Bridlewood Manor
by Mitsugi
Summary: BACK FROM THE DEAD! (1-2-1) The ongoing saga of a Japanese spy and an American waif, thrown together in a tapestry of espionage, romance and murder in London of the early 1900s, with the fabulous Peacecraft estate as a backdrop for their adventures.
1. London Confidential

Welcome to Episode One of Bridlewood Manor. For those of you who have no idea what this is about, let me tell you that it's not your ordinary fanfiction, and point you in the direction of my website...but if you haven't got time for it right now, I'll give you the condensed intro. Bridlewood Manor is a story partly modelled after the classic British TV series, Upstairs, Downstairs, and it takes place in "real-time" minus 100 years exactly. Each episode will have a page of accompanying notes, artwork, sounds, what-have-you, on my website. This fic will continue for as long as I'm a member of FFN, so we're lookin' at the **long haul**, don't ya know. =^_~= 

Disclaimer #1: I had three dozen of those damn "Roll Up the Rim to Win" cups from Tim Hortons over the last two months, and not ONE of them said "You win ultimate control over Gundam Wing and all the characters therein." I did, however, win two coffees, a bagel, a couple of donuts, and a cookie. I don't have them anymore *burp* so you can't sue me for them. =P

Disclaimer #2: I was an English major, so when I write, I write wordy. You have been warned. Muahahahahaaaa....  
**Suggested font: Times New Roman**  
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Episode One: London Confidential

> _"There is in every true woman's heart a spark of heavenly fire, which beams and blazes in the dark hours of adversity." --Washington Irving_

May 24th, 1901

On the twenty-second of January in the year 1901, the British Empire faced a trial of the soul unlike any other when beloved Queen Victoria, defender of the faith and ruler of 60 years, died at the age of 82. On that same day, an equally grievous blow was dealt to a young girl with golden hair and golden dreams, when her father passed away suddenly. As the Empire mourned, very few could mourn alongside Relena Peacecraft, and the burden of sorrow weighed her down, hardening her heart a little each day over the following months.

So impossible to live with was the 'new and improved' heir to the Peacecraft fortune that in the four months since the dreadful day she had lost nearly all the servants from her lavish West London mansion. This distraction kept her from enjoying the garden party she attended with one of her last remaining domestics, Otto, on the anniversary of the late Queen's birth.

"Sugar in your tea, Miss Relena?" he asked in a genial voice.

"No thank you, Otto, I don't think I'll be having anything." Somehow, Relena couldn't stomach the thought of either food or drink since she arrived at the party. It wasn't just the dark cloud hanging over the occasion, that this was the first of an infinite number of birthdays the Queen would never see; Relena felt a strange sensation on the back of her neck, as if she was being watched.

"As you will, m'lady." Otto had taken to calling her Lady Peacecraft ever since her father died, even though the title would not officially be hers for some time. Still, with Lord Peacecraft gone and the elder brother in Africa, she seemed determined to hold her head up high and be worthy of the moniker in her daily deeds.

"I'll be content to sit and take in the scenery for awhile. If anyone approaches, send them away unless it's a person of _very_ high importance. I don't wish to be disturbed for trivialities," she instructed.

"Very good, m'lady."

She sulked a bit in her lawn chair and fiddled studiously with the beadwork on her gown, trying to forget where and when she was. All around, noblemen and socialites were making merry as best they could, occupying themselves with the tea and the sherry and the trifle and the cucumber sandwiches and what a lovely, sunny day it was. Relena cursed them all silently for offering nothing but occasional false sympathy to mingle with her sorrow.

'Stiff upper lip, my dear,' they'd all say at one time or another. 'You mustn't indulge in needless self-pity while the whole of the Empire weeps.' It was the worst kind of false sympathy when the giver expected the receiver to cheerfully fly through life as if nothing at all was wrong.

The orchestra struck a haphazard tuning chord as they prepared to play a lilting gavotte to lift the crowd's spirits. At the same instant, Relena felt eyes upon her again. She looked all around but saw no one looking in her direction; nevertheless, she knew it was real--someone was watching her.

"Miss Relena? Is everything alright?" Otto's concerned voice broke the spell.

She took longer than she should have to answer, which only made him worry more. "Yes...yes, of course, I was just...looking for someone." She struggled to hide her agitation, still moving her eyes across the lawns.

The garden party was held at a sprawling estate full of people and tables of food; there were dozens of hiding places. From one of those secluded spots, behind two tall, columnar cedar trees, a thin, tanned youth with messy brown hair and frosty blue eyes stared at the Peacecraft girl.

The boy, no more than sixteen or seventeen, took an envelope from the inside pocket of his coat and re-read the contents, away from prying eyes. On a single sheet of plain paper was an ink drawing of the girl's face, exquisite in it's detail, along with her name and vital statistics, and probable locations written alongside it in precise, featureless handwriting. His instructions were to watch her closely, then wait to be contacted.

_It seems that I am to decide how close I should be,_ he thought.

He watched as the distressed young lady kept looking over every inch of the estate, never able to meet the unseen eyes that sent electric shocks up and down her spine. _She's aware of my presence, but she can't find me. Her instincts are terrible._ Following his previous orders, he took a lighter out of his pocket, flipped it open, and burned the paper and the envelope from the corner up, letting it fall to the grass when it was nothing more than scorched cinders. Next, he had to get close to her.

The lad observed how the waiters were able to move freely without being actively noticed; it appeared as though the guests deliberately ignored the menial servants unless they were offered spirits and wine. He targeted the very next waiter who passed by his side of the cedar grove and stopped him with a firm hand to the bewildered man's shoulder. The waiter nearly dropped his precious cargo in surprise.

"...'Ere! What's your game?" he whined.

"Put the tray down," the dark-haired boy said coldly, nodding his head toward the tray of drinks the waiter was carrying. The severity of his tone made it impossible to disobey. Puzzled and slightly nervous, the waiter set the tray down on the ground; the dark-haired boy gave him a chilling stare. "Take off your jacket."

The waiter folded his arms and looked annoyed. "Hang about, what's thi--"

Quick as a flash, there was a revolver pointing at the waiter's head. "Take it off," the boy repeated firmly.

Petrified, the waiter took off his white coat and tails, and it was swiftly exchanged for the dark-haired boy's brown tweed jacket. Without missing a beat, the boy put the revolver back to wherever it came from, put the waiter's elegant coat on, and pressed a coin into the man's palm. "Now, go home."

The man blinked and looked at the coin. It was a sovereign, milled from the finest gold and stamped with the queen's portrait. A sovereign! This scrawny little streetrat had just given him a princely sum, more than he could have earned in two weeks of serving cocktails and petit-fours at garden parties.

He swallowed, then smiled widely. "_Thank_ you, sir!" he exclaimed, forgetting all about being threatened with a revolver only moments earlier.

The dark-haired boy grunted his acknowledgement and picked up the tray of drinks. The happy ex-waiter trotted off with his money, hoping to get off the estate quickly in case his benefactor suddenly had a change of heart. Satisfied that he wasn't going to be revealed as a fraud by the waiter, the strange boy left the cedar grove and began mingling among the partygoers, inching closer to his golden-haired target with each glass of sherry he delivered.

Only a few steps away, the agitated Miss Relena had all but given up trying to find the person watching her. She was vaguely aware of Otto speaking to someone, but it seemed far less important to her. Who was out there? Who was it that had been watching her since she arrived?

Her face fell when she saw Otto approach out of the corner of her eye. She had instructed to be left alone unless it was someone important, and in the back of her mind she had hoped nobody important would come. Hard luck. "Miss Relena, Lady Une to see you," Otto stated before backing away respectfully.

Relena's face fell even farther when she heard who it was. Lady Une was probably the person she least wanted to see right now, but she was such a powerful woman, it would damage Relena socially to refuse her 'polite' conversation, even for one afternoon. She put her false smile on and turned to greet her.

"Lady Une, it's lovely to see you here," she lied graciously.

"And such a joy to see _you_ up and about, my dear," the older woman purred. "I understand what a difficult day this must be for you, and I sincerely hope it gets better."

Relena doubted that very much. She watched with a bit of revulsion as the woman twirled locks of her chocolate brown hair around her fingers coquettishly. They were the only two women there with their hair unbound, instead of being swept up in the more tidy, dignified styles the other women wore. Relena's excuse was that she couldn't care less how she looked that day, plus she was young enough to get away with it, but Lady Une did it on purpose. Letting her hair spill over the shoulders of her scarlet tea gown made her look seductive rather than dignified; Relena was sure she only did it because people would disapprove, even if they would never tell her to her face.

"Thank you very much indeed," Relena said as nicely as she could.

Une continued to fondle her hair luxuriantly. "And what a pity about your staff problems! Have people no loyalty whatsoever these days? Leaving you and poor Otto in the lurch while they ran off at the first offer!" She clucked her tongue and smiled. There were many things about that smile that Relena didn't like. "I'm quite sure nothing like this ever would have happened while your father was alive."

"Yes, I'm sure as well," the girl answered softly. "They were loyal to my father and would never have abandoned him."

"Well, loyalty is fine and good, but if they knew how much they could earn in certain _other_ family's establishments..." Une trailed off with a smirk wholly intended to cause offence.

"We kept all our domestics in an exceptional manner. They were always well looked after, and none of them complained." Relena was still seated, but tight-lipped with anger. The second she finished speaking, the logic center of her brain caught up with her controlled rage and pointed out something to her. "They could have left for any number of reasons. Why do you assume it was because they got a better offer somewhere else?"

Lady Une tugged her white gloves on and smiled that devious smile. "I believe you already know my footman and coachman, my dear..." She half-turned to indicate two men standing and having a drink some distance away. They were splendidly uniformed and shockingly familiar. They were _Relena's_ footman and coachman, or at least, they used to be; she remembered that these two had been among the first to leave after Lord Peacecraft died. Now they drove the horse and carriage of a wealthier woman.

Relena stood quickly, barely able to contain her fury. Her former servants saw her, blushed, and turned away, moving towards the other end of the estate where Lady Une's coach awaited. The two women locked eyes, and Otto worried that he might soon have to forcibly separate them.

"I think you'd better go," Relena spat.

Une shrugged. "These parties _do_ get boring after awhile. Perhaps I _will_ go home, there's so much more room to move about there. I do hate these tiny estates where one can't lift a drink without knocking someone over." She chuckled. There was no more reason for her to stay anyway; she had made her point.

Relena gritted her teeth as the pompous socialite left as last. She sat back down with a sigh and spoke to Otto as a friend rather than a servant. "Why did she have to do that? Why does she despise our family so much?"

Otto offered her his handkerchief, but she politely refused; she wasn't about to cry over the likes of Lady Une. "Try not to let it upset you, miss," he said soothingly.

"Oh, I'll try very hard, but I don't know how much it will help."

"Let me fetch you something to calm your stomach," he pleaded.

"No thank you, Otto, just go and ready the carriage," she answered wearily. "I think I'd like to go home too."

Otto bowed and went about his work. She had nothing to fear from him; Otto had a grand sense of loyalty and would never leave her family's service, she was sure of it. As she straightened her dress and pulled herself together, she felt someone approach and stand at her left hand. She could see by the colour and cut of the suit the figure wore that it was one of the waiters, and he would simply go away as she wished if she didn't bother to acknowledge his presence.

Half a minute passed, with Relena staring deliberately down at her hands, but the waiter would not go away. Frustrated, she looked up at him, preparing to snap sharply at him for not reading her mind. Her breath caught in her throat.

The waiter was staring her down boldly, a dangerous move for a servant. He didn't quite look or behave like the others of his trade, flitting about with full and empty trays while he alone stood still. His hair was a mess, and while the coat he wore was a good fit, it didn't seem to suit him or the wild, almost feral glow in his cobalt blue eyes.

He held out the tray he carried. On it was a single crystal goblet half-filled with a rosy liquid. "Sherry?" he offered.

Relena almost shivered at the word, but not for the word itself. The waiter seemed no older than she was, but he possessed a rich, husky voice at the low end of tenor that sent her heart reeling. After the catty display by her social rival and now this, she needed that sherry. She took it from him. "Thank you."

The boy nodded, but did not leave to serve the other guests. He also failed to address her as his superior, with a "miss" or a "ma'am" or a "m'lady". He wouldn't, not yet.

Relena tipped the glass back and downed the contents quickly but with grace. She daubed at her lips with a napkin off the table and placed the goblet back on the tray, decorated with a smudge of her coral pink lipstick. The dark-haired youth remained, studying her. She tried not to let it show that he was making her quite nervous.

Mercifully, Otto returned at that very moment. "Miss Relena, the coach is ready whenever you'd like to leave."

Relena couldn't answer. She was mesmerized by the stranger's stare. Otto sensed immediately that something was amiss with the disheveled waiter, not to mention noticing how he stared at the girl. "You may _go,_ now," he told the boy in a low growl.

The youth switched his gaze to Otto and narrowed his eyes. After a heartbeat, he turned and left, carrying the tray and the empty glass out of sight. Relena was still staring when he disappeared.

Otto brought her back to her senses with a few words of concern, and she rose to leave with him. He made an excuse of illness to the host and hostess of the party on her behalf, helped her into the modestly opulent coach, and spurred the horses forward. At 2:30 in the afternoon, they started off down the cobbled streets towards home.

At 2:31, the odd waiter with the messy hair and flashing eyes began to follow them. Along the way, he managed to trade his posh white coat for a plainer one, to a poor man who was more than glad to get it. Soon, the carriage was well out of sight, but it didn't matter. The boy knew exactly where his target was going.

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Relena took tea in the drawing room, on the ground floor of her mansion, partly because it was a beautiful room to be in, and partly because it was one of the few left that was still fairly clean. The house was down to a skeleton staff, and 62 rooms was too much for Otto to take care of practically by himself.

She smiled sympathetically at him as he brought her a tray of tea and biscuits and set it on the table next to the sofa. After pouring her a cup, with a dash of milk and two sugars, he excused himself to work elsewhere, even though keeping the house under control was a losing battle.

Trying to distract herself onto something more pleasant, Relena's mind drifted back to the young man in the white coat. Just the way he had looked at her was enough to convince her that he was the one watching the entire time. Part of her was terrified of ever seeing him again, and another part dreaded not seeing him at all. With so much new information clouding her mind, she found enjoying the tea and biscuits rather difficult.

"Miss Relena?" a soft, timid voice sang from the doorway.

She looked up and smiled, grateful to see the visitor. It was the apprentice gardener--or rather, the new head gardener, since the previous head gardener had departed for greener pastures--a pale, thin boy with feathery blond hair. He had mindfully removed his muddy boots before venturing this far into the house, and stood just outside the drawing room in his unworthy stocking feet.

"Come in, Quatre," she said. "I'd be glad of some company right now, especially yours."

He crossed the threshhold slowly, as if the polished floor in the drawing room would burn him. Outdoor staff were rarely afforded this priviledge, if ever. "I knew you would be. I just...guessed that you were lonely...maybe a little sad, too." He sat next to her on the sofa and helped himself to a biscuit.

She smiled again. "You always seem to know when I need a friend. I wish I knew how you did it."

"Just comes naturally," he said with a grin. The boy was truly one of her few remaining friends and treasures. He wasn't at all the usual sort of person one found tending the grounds, strong and muscular, physically well-tuned to outdoor labour. He also wasn't crude or coarse as Relena found so many servants to be, but polite and cultured, with a wide range of knowledge usually reserved for university students. If not for the overalls and gardening gloves, he might be mistaken for nobility in conversation. "Has anyone called 'round about the notices in the post-office window?"

"Oh, plenty of people," Relena said tiredly. "But they were all either unsuitable or demanding more than I could pay them, or at least what I know I could pay them without damaging our credit. This house will fall apart soon if I don't find more staff, but I don't know the first thing about finances and wages and all that! Father always took care of it; Otto helps as much as he can, but he has the whole house to look after, and it's just too much for him!" She laid her hands in her lap and sighed deeply.

Quatre wanted very badly to offer his services as bookkeeper; he did a good job of hiding his knowledge about money, and playing the part of the humble gardener, but which was more important--helping a friend or concealing his identity? _I want to help her straighten out the family's money, for her sake, but no one would believe a simple gardener could take care of it, even her. She'd start asking questions, she might find out about me..._

"You're awfully quiet," she remarked.

"Oh...just wondering what would happen to you if you couldn't maintain this place and your brother stays in Africa. You could lose the house...you could lose everything. What would you do? Where would you go?" The blond boy wrung his delicate hands in despair.

Relena was touched by the concern of her loyal domestic. Her gaze filled with pain and gratitude, and without thinking she laid a soft hand on the side of his face. They slowly locked eyes, and Quatre felt a flush rise to his cheeks. Startled by her own actions, Relena blushed and pulled her hand away quickly. They sat in an awkward, slightly embarassed silence, each unable to meet the other's eyes again, until the doorbell rang, shaking them out of their trance.

Quatre stood and backed away from the sofa. If a guest had come to the door, he couldn't be seen inside the house, and certainly not sitting next to Lady Peacecraft. "I...I should get back to the gardens..." he stammered.

Relena smoothed out her hair nervously. "Yes, of course...you may go, Quatre." He turned and left, head lowered, passing Otto on his way to answer the door. Relena sat and fidgeted with her dress while she waited for him to announce the visitor. _Ohhh, what's wrong with me today...I must just be lonely, like he said, and I'll latch onto anyone that happens along. Yes, that must be it. Just a side-effect of lonliness, nothing more._

Outside the front door, the visitor frowned at the ostentatiousness of the doorbell. Instead of a simple, efficient bell or tone, it was a set of deep chimes that boomed out the first four bars of "Rule Britannia". He ran an eye over the brass plaque mounted next to the door, proclaiming to all the world in two-inch letters that this grand building, and the extravagant lawns around it, was Bridlewood Manor.

The door opened; Otto appeared and immediately frowned, recognizing the youth before him as the disheveled waiter from the garden party. "Yes?" he growled.

"The lady of the house, please," the boy said flatly.

Otto scowled. _Impertinent ragamuffin! He saw her once this afternoon and now he's besotted with her! This whelp has no sense of class whatsoever, I can tell._ "I'm dreadfully sorry, _sir..._but her ladyship is tired and mustn't be disturbed." He began to close the door.

"It's important," the boy insisted, blue eyes blazing.

Stopping the door in mid-swing, Otto fought to retain his composure. _Fine. I'll let her ladyship decide. Either way, I'll see to it that you don't stay long._ He sighed and held out his hand. "Your card, please."

Instead of the traditional embossed calling card, of which he had none, the young man handed Otto an empty glass goblet. Otto took it by the stem, turned it over, looked at it, then gave the boy a questioning look. Receiving nothing but a cold stare in return, he shrugged and disappeared into the house.

He puzzled over why the boy would give him such a curious object as this, but took it dutifully to the drawing room and handed it to Relena. "A young man to see you, miss. He sent this as a calling card."

She took the glass, ran her equally confused eyes over the surface, and noticed something about it that Otto had missed. The rim of the glass, along one side, bore a coral pink lipmark, the same shade of lipstick she was wearing earlier that afternoon. Panic filled her; that waiter had followed her home and was standing right outside! The instinct to flee to her room was only barely overcome by her curiosity. She _had_ to know what the boy's intentions were. "Bring him in, Otto."

Otto looked shocked, but eventually pulled himself together and left down the hall to fetch the boy. Relena fidgeted even more now, tugging at her skirts, combing out her hair, and arranging the silver tea things; she had to get all the fidgets out of her system before her guest arrived. _What am I doing, letting a stranger into my father's house!? I hope I'm not making a mistake...I just have to see him again!_ She composed herself and folded her hands neatly in her lap just as Otto brought the boy into the drawing room.

The white coat and tails were gone; instead he wore a plainer, poorer-looking brown jacket with frayed cuffs and excessive wear at the elbows. His hair was still a mess. He strode boldly but gracefully to stand in front of the table upon which sat the silver tea set. He swept up the tea pot and deftly refilled Relena's teacup as he introduced himself, without spilling a drop.

"My name is Heero Yuy. I'm seeking a change in employment." He added a dash of milk and two sugars to the tea, exactly how she liked it. "I thought perhaps there might be a vacancy somewhere in your household." He grasped the saucer gently but firmly, and held the perfect cup of tea out to Relena.

She looked at the teacup for several seconds before taking it and sampling his handiwork. It tasted even better than the way Otto had been making her tea for the last four months, in the absence of a proper butler. It was mellow, soothing, aromatic, and absolutely divine.

A few feet away, Otto was getting madder by the minute. The very idea that this presumptuous brat would charm his way into the house and assume that her ladyship would allow him to stay was bad enough; seeing the entranced look on Relena's face was a step away from unbearable. As she downed the warm liquid, more delectable than the sweetest ambrosia, and studied the thin, smooth hands that concocted it especially for her, Otto could see a breathless 'yes' about to leap from her lips. He couldn't allow that.

"Miss, may I have a word in private?" he insisted.

Relena looked up from her tea, annoyed. "Could it possibly wait, Otto?"

"No, I'm afraid it can't." They exchanged forceful looks until Heero saved them the embarassment of arguing right in front of him.

"I'll take my leave of you, for now," he said, bowing slightly at the waist. Relena drank in every last detail of his presence before he vanished into the hall a few steps away. _Such a strange name, _she thought, _and his face, and his mannerisms...maybe that's why I can't take my eyes off him. He must be foreign! But his English is impeccable..._

Otto was at her side the instant Heero was gone. "Miss Relena, you _cannot_ allow that...that _boy_ into this house. You know nothing about him, and to be perfectly honest, I know more than I care to already."

"You yourself told me only yesterday that the estate was desperate for staff! _'Desperate'_, you said!" she hissed in a terse whisper. "And now a willing worker lands right on our doorstep and doesn't even ask about the wages, and you want to turn him away? No!"

"He approached you uninvited at the garden party, he stared at you, he followed you home, don't you find any of that unusual? Don't you find it dangerous that some lower-class yob should be stalking a young, fetching heiress the same day as meeting her??" Otto was on the verge of overstepping his authority as house steward.

No amount of chiding or intimidation coming from the staring contest was about to persuade Relena. The older gentleman was infinitely more knowledgable about the world and the kinds of people in it, but as lady and mistress of Bridlewood, the final decision was hers. "Bring him back in here, please," she said with a cold stare.

"But Miss Rele--"

"_Now_, Otto," she snapped, cutting him off in mid-protest, "or I'll have one more empty position to fill come the morning."

Otto stiffened; he knew a threat when he heard one. Utterly defeated, he went out into the hall to fetch the boy...but he was nowhere to be seen. Relena saw him looking left and right, high and low for Heero, and became agitated at the thought that Otto might have misplaced him on purpose. She went out into the hall to help him search; they checked the parlour, the sitting room, the games room, and half the ground floor altogether. The boy appeared to have vanished.

Then suddenly, as they approached the main level dining room, they heard a faint metallic clinking. Motioning for Relena to stay behind him, Otto crept towards the dining room, ready to pounce on whomever was there without permission. Relena saw him stop as soon as he was through the doorway, and her curiosity got the better of her; she followed him in and stood to his right. They both gaped at what they saw.

Seated casually in one of the plushly upholstered chairs in his poor clothes and shabby shoes, with his legs crossed and his handkerchief draped over one knee, was Heero, polishing the silver. He held a knife up to the light and studied his reflection in it, looking for spots he might have missed. "There's quite a few things that need doing around here," he said, as he picked up the handkerchief and worked out a few specks of tarnish off a soup spoon. "I know all too well what it's like to run out of day before you run out of work."

The stunned figures in the doorway tried to form coherent sentences, but couldn't. Otto finally strode angrily forward, stared down at the table and silently counted the silverware. To his disappointment, it was all present and accounted for. Defiantly ignoring the man's imposing proximity, Heero put down his work and stood to face Relena, clasping his hands behind his back in a military fashion.

Composing herself, Relena tried to act aloof despite being impressed, amazing, and slightly infatuated all in the space of ten minutes. "Did you have any specific position in mind?" she asked. Otto glared at her fiercely.

"Wherever your ladyship would have the most need of me," Heero conceded.

Relena nodded thoughtfully. "Very well...I suppose the most pressing position that needs filling would be that of head butler," she fibbed. The most needed staff member was actually the cook; four months running, the meagre household had been suffering the distratrous cuisine of Elsie the housemaid, and they were growing thinner every day. But of course, if Relena put Heero in the kitchen, she'd never see him, and that would never do. She stepped forward and laced her fingers together.

"The position is live-in, so I'll expect you to clear any rents or leases you have elsewhere in the city. I also expect you to address me formally unless I instruct you otherwise. You will have authority over all the other domestics; they will answer directly to you, and you will answer directly to Otto." She indicated the burly gentleman with a raised hand. The men looked at each other briefly and with poison as Relena continued.

"You will be responsible for the general upkeep and cleanliness of the house, making sure that everything runs smoothly. You will pour all the drinks, serve all the meals, and see to the needs of the guests and visitors. You will have Sundays and Thursdays off, if you wish, and you will be alotted a clothing allowance. You are expected to look your best at all times. You will keep to your place and come immediately whenever I or anyone else rings for you. You will have a fortnight's vacation time each year, but I must insist that you give me ample notice before you leave, and that you not take your vacation within the first six months of your employment, provided that I decide to keep you on after your two-month probation." She shifted her feet nervously; the next subject was the difficult one.

"This estate has been running under a strict budget ever since..." She cleared her throat. "I may not be able to offer you standard rates, but I will try to give you something fair," she said, calculating something in her head, "shall we say...seventeen and six a week?"

She bit her lip. That only amounted to 45 pounds 10 shillings a year, and she knew full well that other butlers in town were easily receiving 10 pounds more than that, at least. It just wasn't the time for her to be too extravagant.

Heero took in all the information, processed it, and nodded once. "Acceptable."

Relena sighed and smiled with relief. "Well, that's wonderful! Would it be too soon to ask you to settle your affairs by the first Monday of the month?"

"Not at all," Heero replied in a smoky voice.

Otto watched in disgust as Relena fawned over the boy, still a total stranger, making plans with him, talking to him like he had already been a trusted aide for years. He followed them to the front door, suddenly feeling squeezed out of the way to make room for Heero's growing influence over her ladyship. Otto reeled at how easily the boy put Relena under his spell. He decided that, although it was his duty to work and coexist peacefully with the intruder, he would never trust him.

Heero was more vividly aware of Otto's attitude than he was of Relena's idle prattle about the weather and the neighbourhood and how lovely it was living at Bridlewood. He took quiet note of the man's exception to his presence, and filed it away for later study, deep under his mask of total indifference. As the door opened and the street came to life behind him, Heero said his goodbyes and walked crisply down the sidewalk. Relena lingered awhile at the door before going in. The next few days with Otto would probably be less than pleasant, but in time, it would be worth it.

Rounding the corner, well out of view of the manor house, Heero strode into the post office and quickly identified some of the job postings in the window as belonging to Bridlewood. He located the card advertising the position he had just filled, took it from the window, and scribbled on the back in semi-precise handwriting:

_"Target acquired. Optimal proximity attained. Begin communication June 3."_

He purchased an envelope and a stamp, sealed the card inside along with his message, and posted it to a remote adress in the north. Walking back out nonchalantly, he melted into the growing crowd of people heading home for dinner, hundreds upon hundreds, filling the streets, making it easy to disappear. Disappear into the depths of the city. Disappear off the face of the Earth until he was needed again.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


> _Next, in Episode Two: Bridlewood welcomes it's new butler, with mixed reactions from the rest of the staff. Quatre fights to keep something hidden from the newcomer, who obviously has a knack for finding things out, and Relena receives a important letter from her German uncle._

And so it begins...this is a tale that will have no end, at least not for a very long time. Don't think it's going to as simple as "Heero and Relena stalk each other for 87 episodes" either, because it's going to be MUCH more complicated than that! *evil laugh* You heard the man, June 3rd. Sorry it seems so long from now, but I wanted to get a few episodes ahead of myself and it just seemed a reasonable time for Heero to start his new job. And I know that's not _really_ the first Monday of the month, but in 1901 it was the first Monday of the month, and by the time it shows up on FFN's main page, it'll be Monday anyway, so...I'm confusing myself now, so I'll stop. =^_^= Baiii! 


	2. Veiled and Blackmailed

Make way for Episode Two! It pained me greatly to make you wait, but I had to see exactly how fast I could write this stuff, maintain the website ABOUT this stuff, and still do other things in life BESIDES this stuff without going even more insane. As before, check my website for the companion notes to this episode, as well as the first. =^_~= 

Disclaimer #1: I had three dozen of those damn "Roll Up the Rim to Win" cups from Tim Hortons over the last two months, and not ONE of them said "You win ultimate control over Gundam Wing and all the characters therein." I did, however, win two coffees, a bagel, a couple of donuts, and a cookie. I don't have them anymore *burp* so you can't sue me for them. =P

Disclaimer #2: I was an English major, so when I write, I write wordy. You have been warned. Muahahahahaaaa....  
**Suggested font: Times New Roman**  
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Episode Two: Veiled and Blackmailed

> _"Great truths are generally bought, not found by chance." --Milton_

June 3rd, 1901

Before the sun rose that morning, Heero had collected his paltry belongings into two suitcases and was brushing the lint off his best suit. For whatever reason, he hadn't slept very well the night before, but he hoped it was just the commotion in the kitchen downstairs and not a case of nerves.

The room he had been renting for the past month was upstairs at the back of a local pub, the Muddy Nag, managed by a young red-headed woman named Catherine. It was a tiny room with no decoration to speak of, the plainest and smallest room she had; he insisted on it. The only real downside in Heero's eyes was that it was directly over the kitchen, and since the pub grub left much to be desired, Catherine was often up long after closing, sometimes straight through till dawn, trying to improve her cooking.

The clanking of pots and pans, and the strange aromas filtering up through the floor kept Heero awake most of the night, the result of which being he wasn't fully alert when he heard a woman's scream coming from the kitchen. It took him two seconds to identify the scream as belonging to Catherine, and another three to find his gun. By that time, the reason for the yell was self-evident.

"You no good, freak-haired, sticky-fingered pie-bandit! You miserable little toe-rag! When I catch up with you, I'll knock you silly! And then you're gonna work off every last bite scrubbing my basement! You moocher!!" Catherine sounded unharmed and in good voice. Heero sighed. The phantom pie thief had struck again.

He collected himself and his belongings, took a final look around the room, and headed downstairs to meet with his hot-tempered landlady. She had been struggling for several months against a fleet-footed youth living in the alleyways, with an appetite on par with the Black Hole of Calcutta and a penchant for swiping fresh pies off Catherine's windowsill. The thief had never been caught.

By the time Heero made it to the kitchen, she was throwing things in anger, and was lucky she missed smacking him in the face with a wet teatowel by about six inches. "Honestly! You'd think somebody would _do_ something about those rotten little beggars! But _no_, they let them roam the streets and take advantage of helpless ladies trying to earn an honest living!"

Heero raised an eyebrow at the word 'helpless'.

"I don't know what else to do," she whined, dropping her hands at her sides. "I've tried varying the times I cook, I've tried stacking crates across the alley out back...I've tried cooling pies on the _second_ floor windowsill, and he _still_ gets them! They could be hanging in mid-air thirty feet up and it wouldn't matter!"

"Why not just keep the food indoors?" Heero suggested.

Catherine shook her head. "Oh, I couldn't do that, the competition might be sitting out there in the bar smelling it for hours, and they'll figure out all my best recipes and copy them!"

As soon as her back was turned, Heero cringed. _Not much danger of that, _he thought, having himself been a victim of her culinary skills, or lack thereof. "I'm just on my way out," he said.

"Ohhhh, so soon? Gee, I'll be sorry to see you go, you were a model tenant," she answered sadly.

Heero set his cases down and took out an envelope. "Actually, I'd like to keep that room for the time being. I might still need it occasionally," he said, handing it to her. "That covers the next two months plus any incidental expenses."

Catherine looked surprised, but extremely pleased. "Oh, alright! I'll keep it in good shape for you."

Nodding, Heero picked up his cases and left, grateful to escape the clutches of Hell's Kitchen.

**********  
  


The doorbell rang at quarter past eight, and Otto dreaded being the nearest available person to answer it. Today, that conniving little weasel was coming to stay. Otto's stomach turned as he opened the door, but mercifully, it was only the postman. Breathing a sigh of relief, he took the morning mail and distributed it around the house. After giving Relena the lion's share at the breakfast table, he found there was one letter left. He frowned storm clouds at the name printed on the envelope.

_Mr. Heero Yuy  
c/o Bridlewood Manor  
145 Whittington Place  
Regent's Park, London_

  


_He hasn't even arrived yet, and already he's having his mail sent here. Bloody cheek..._ The doorbell rang a second time, and Otto quietly hoped the postman had returned. He had half a mind to give the offending letter back to him. Elsie got to the door first this time.

Otto listened as the thirty-year-old cockney housemaid greeted the man on the front step. "Oh, it's you. You're the young lad what's been 'ired as lord an' master over us poor, lowly servants, eh?" She didn't sound impressed. "Right in 'ere." She stepped aside and showed Heero in without enthusiasm.

Otto walked up, holding the letter, just as Heero set his suitcases down next to the umbrella stand. "Her ladyship is taking breakfast in the conservatory, if you'd care to wai--"

Before he could finish, Heero walked briskly past him, snatched the letter out of his hands, put it in his inside jacket pocket, and continued down the hall, all without uttering a sound or making eye contact. Elsie nodded her head in the direction he left and clucked her tongue. "...he's friendly, innit he?"

"Not to worry," Otto said with an angry glare. "If I have my way, we won't have to put up with him for long."

As soon as he spoke, Relena poked her sunny face out into the hall, practically glowing with joy. "Elsie, would you take the bags up to the attic please?" Without waiting for an answer, she disappeared back into the conservatory to enjoy the rest of her breakfast with the object of her fixation.

Elsie snorted and walked over to the suitcases. "Won't 'ave to put up with 'im for long? Faint 'ope of _that_, she seems to like 'im well enough." She attempted to pick up the cases, then dropped them with a moan, clutching her back melodramatically. "Oh, I say...'ere, couldn't give us a'hand with these, could you?"

Wickedly pleased at the invitation, Otto scooped up the bags and started towards the servants' stairwell. "With pleasure." He climbed three flights of stairs with the suspiciously heavy luggage, itching to view the contents. The attic was finished and divided into servants' quarters, but in the absence of the usual compliment of staff, many rooms had fallen prey to overflow storage. Otto dumped the suitcases in the only available room and set to work.

He saw right away that the locks on the cases were brand new and looked very sophisticated. He crept into the housemaids' room, took a hatpin off the dresser, and tried to jimmy the locks open. Ten minutes later, he had a host of intersting scratches on his hands and a bent hatpin, and was no closer to seeing inside Heero's luggage. Swearing under his breath, he went back downstairs; maybe another opportunity would present itself later.

When Otto reached the conservatory, Relena barely acknowledged him enough to ask him to clear away the breakfast dishes and bring Quatre in from the gardens. Seconds later, the four of them were standing together in the conservatory, some smiling, some not.

"Now then, Heero, there's someone I'd like you to meet," Relena said cheerfully, steering him about by the shoulders. She stood him in front of the fair-haired boy who had just been called inside from tending the garden. "This is Quatre Sagheer, my gardener. Quatre, this is Heero Yuy. He's to be our new butler."

Quatre smiled and held out a friendly hand. "Pleased to meet you."

Heero hesitated, studying the boy's face; Quatre began to look a bit nervous. The stranger was looking straight through him, as if dissecting his soul and calculating it to be a threat of some kind. Keeping his stern expression in place, Heero shocked him by clasping his hand firmly and addressing him in his native tongue. "Kaif halak?"

Quatre paled considerably, if such a thing were possible. He swallowed and gave the expected response. "Ana bekhair." He had the distinct, uneasy feeling that Heero was testing him. _There's something frightening about this one, he knows my language and he seems to know I'm hiding something. Maybe I'll just try to avoid him as much as I can..._

As they unclasped hands, Relena barely batted an eyelash at her butler's unexpected talent, chalking it up as one more thing to impress her friends with at dinner parties. "I'm sure you're going to get along splendidly with one another, and you can both start by going into town this morning."

Quatre blinked. "Both of us? But doesn't Elsie do all the shopping?"

"You're not buying groceries, I want you to help Heero choose some new clothes for his tenure here." She opened her purse and gave Quatre a plain white card with dignified writing that would identify them as servants of Lady Peacecraft and allow them to make purchases on credit. The truly well-to-do never paid cash. "You know the sorts of things I like to see."

Quatre bristled nervously at the thought of spending more time with Heero instead of less, but he'd never let her ladyship down once yet. "Yes, miss."

"I want him back here, properly attired, in time to serve tea this afternoon. Do you think you can manage that?" she asked, smiling sweetly.

"Yes, miss," he repeated, nodding. And with that, Otto shuffled the pair of them out the front door. For awhile, they just stood on the porch, staring at each other. Quatre was frozen to the spot, paralyzed by the other boy's glare that was still boring two holes into his skull. After only knowing Heero for a scant few minutes, he was becoming desperately afraid of those icy blue eyes.

Eventually, Heero grew impatient with his new acquaintance standing there looking for all the world like he wanted to hide behind the hedge. He sighed faintly, took the gardener by the arm, and marched him down the front walk. It was going to be a long day.

**********  
  


By lunchtime, Heero and Quatre had done most of the shopping they had set out to do, and their purchases would be tallied, billed, and delivered later that day. Heero was very much aware of the fact that Quatre hardly spoke two words to him, except to ask how various garments fit and what size shoes he took. All other communication had taken place between Quatre and various salesclerks, as they twirled Heero around in front of full-length mirrors.

Even if he did get the silent treatment, Heero was grateful for the company; clothes shopping wasn't his favourite pasttime by a longshot, and besides, Quatre was handling the financial end of things like a pro. That made him think; Quatre's math was better than half the shopkeepers they visited--so why was he working as a gardener?

He thought it over while they pondered where to have lunch. The question hung in the air silently, and Quatre was still too freaked out by Heero in general to mention that he was getting hungry. Wordlessly, Heero led him down east to his old neighbourhood in Peckham, around this corner and that, to the only place he really knew, the Muddy Nag.

They wove their way through the tables filled with workmen gobbling down their food noisily, and chose a table in the farthest corner from the kitchen...Heero's regular table, as it happened. Catherine spotted him on her way down from the upper level and sauntered over. "Heero!" she cackled gleefully. "Did they kick you out already?"

He ignored her attempt to be insolent. "Catherine, this is Quatre, my new co-worker."

She looked the blond boy over several times, giving him a sly, seductive smile of appreciation just for being in her pub. Quatre blushed instantly. "H-how do you do?" he asked shakily.

"Oh, _much_ better now that you're here, thank you," she squealed.

Heero decided he'd better give her something to do quick before she started tying the meek lad to the table with her apron strings. "Kibba mousel, twice, with Turkish coffee please, Catherine." Quatre's face lit up when he heard the lunch order.

Catherine's eyes brightened by the same degree. "Ah, so you're giving in and trying the international menu after all, eh? See, it pays to innovate, that's how I stay competitive!" She skipped happily off to the kitchen as Heero rolled his eyes for the second time that day. Appeasing his former landlady had nothing to do with it, he was more interested in choosing something Quatre might appreciate better than egg and chips. It was an added bonus that the dish came primarily out of a packet and was reasonably edible.

Quatre leaned back in his chair and seemed genuinely relaxed. _Pity,_ Heero thought, _I have to un-relax him if I'm going to get anywhere._ He sat up straight and fastened his eyes on the boy. "You don't particularly like me, do you?" Not that he cared about being popular, but all information had value.

Quatre looked down at his hands and sputtered, startled by the boldness of the question. "Well...I mean...y'see, it's like this...it's not that I don't _like_ you, I just don't _know_ you very well, that's all." He couldn't meet Heero's eyes.

"But you're afraid of me." Heero liked it when people were afraid of him. It made him feel powerful. He liked feeling powerful.

The humble gardener was looking more uncomfortable by the second. "When you s-spoke to me in m-my language," he said, quivering, "I thought someone had sent you to...I mean, I thought you'd come to collect me...I mean..." He sighed and lowered his head into his shaking hands. "I don't know _what_ I mean..."

Heero watched him squirm without sympathy or contempt. This boy not only seemed to keep dangerous secrets but was emotionally vulnerable; he would be much easier to manipulate than Otto or Elsie. "Listen to me," Heero ordered quietly. Quatre pulled his head up and forced himself to look him in the eye. "It's obvious to me that you don't belong in that house, as least not in service. You're educated, you're cultured, and you don't look as though you've worked a day in your life, before arriving there."

To emphasize his point, he took one of Quatre's pale hands and gently turned it palm-facing-up. The soft skin was marred by blisters and scratches, as if completely unaccustomed to the work they were made to do daily. If he had been a gardener for years, his hands would be gnarled and rough from a lifetime of manual labour, however short. Quatre looked at his hand and bit his lip.

"You're also intelligent enough to realize on your own, sooner or later, that I don't belong there either." Heero released the quivering hand and it disappeared swiftly below the table. "But we both have our reasons for being in that house. So long as you don't interfere with my work, I don't need to know yours and you don't need to know mine."

Quatre looked up again, slight traces of relief crossing his face. Heero wasn't trying to expose him or blackmail him, necessarily, he was just making sure they both knew where they stood with each other. "I understand...thank you."

"You have nothing to thank me for," Heero said flatly. "I might want your help from time to time, and if I don't get it, I _will_ discover whatever secrets you're hiding, and you don't want that to happen."

Quatre shuddered and gripped the tabletop in fright, but he slowly accepted that it was the best offer he was going to get from this boy. Now he was desperate to please him, for his own safety. "Is there anything I can do?"

Heero nodded. "For now...stay out of my way."

The subject was closed only seconds before Catherine brought their lunch, a traditional middle-eastern lamb stew of sorts, in a pastry shell. Not being something she practised often, it didn't hold it's shape very well, and it tended to fall to pieces all over the plate, but it still smelled delicious. The aroma it gave off brightened the gardener's face substantially, prompting Heero to guess that he hadn't eaten what he might consider a home-cooked meal in a long time.

"...and here's the coffee," Catherine sang as she set the cups down. "Will you be having anything else?"

Heero was already on his first forkful of stuffing and raised his eyebrows at Quatre, offering him first choice. "No thank you, miss," the fair-haired boy said, raising his fork and smiling. "But I _am_ going to enjoy this."

"I'm glad." She leaned deeply over him, mirroring his smile plus some. "And do call me Catherine," she purred.

"We'll call someone to haul you away if you don't get back to your kitchen," Heero said without looking up from his plate.

Catherine stiffened and shot him a nasty glance. "That'll be sixpence three farthings," she spat.

"Catherine..." he chimed, almost sweetly, through a mouthful of stew.

"What?"

"...'incidental expenses'."

A wave of shock hit her, followed by extreme annoyance that by overpaying her when he left, Heero had committed her to feeding him and his friends whenever, whatever, and however often he liked. She clenched her fists and tried to say something really vile to chop him down to size, but the sheer depth of his cunning kept her tongue in knots. Without so much as a smile goodbye for Quatre, she went back to the kitchen, defeated. Heero allowed himself a tiny, self-satisfied smirk before moving on to the next bite.

Quatre couldn't help but smile at the exchange, and at the way Heero seemed to level the woman with two words. He was a scary person to be around, but Quatre felt it was only on the surface. His mysterious sixth sense told him that this dark stranger was tough, but fair, and eventually they might become allies in their secret struggles.

"Is she always so...personal...with her customers?" Quatre asked timidly.

"Only with the men," Heero said with slight exapseration in his voice. "They call her 'Clingy Cathy' outside in the marketplace."

With a shiver, Quatre looked in the direction of the kitchen, suddenly worried that she might return. He studied Heero for a few seconds and marvelled at how he seemed immune to her sugary smile. "Is she ever like that with you?"

Heero stopped eating to look directly at him, eyes flashing. A hint of a grin revealed that for her to do so would mean instant death. "No."

Quatre smiled, widely this time, and dove into his kibba mousel with new enthusiasm. Scary as this boy was, as long as other people found him scarier than Quatre did, Quatre was somewhat safe. He mentally tripped over that thought, several times, before giving up and concentrating on how much he was enjoying his lunch, and the company.

**********  
  


The shopping trip was finished well before tea time, as promised. Quatre went back to his gardens, prepared to put in sufficient overtime to keep from falling behind. Relena had something planned for the two of them that coming weekend, and the last thing he wanted was a pile of unplanted begonias waiting for him when he got back.

Heero's new clothes were waiting in the hall, assembled into a tidy stack of packages wrapped in brown paper. After being greeted at the door by a bubbly Relena, he was sent up to his attic quarters to arrange himself and his attire before serving tea.

The servants' stairs were narrow and badly kept, with creaky stairs and peeling wallpaper, where there was wallpaper to peel. In other places, the plaster was coming off the walls one little chunk at a time. The climb was treacherous enough on one's own, but carrying a half-dozen parcels made it quite a trial.

When he reached the top, he located his suitcases in the only available room, definitely the poorest of the lot. There were two beds, a twin-size with a rickety cast-iron frame, and a double with a more stately-looking, but still very worn, wooden frame. The servants were apparently treated to the best that the family downstairs had worn out over the years, not the best that money could buy. Heero chose the twin for himself and dropped the packages onto it.

_Somehow I expected better than this, judging by the rest of the house,_ he thought, looking around in dismay. This room was in worse shape than the stairwell, and in much worse shape than the room he used to have over the pub. There was nothing but a dingy whitewash on the walls, the scraps of wooden furniture looked like they might fall apart at the slightest touch, a strong smell of kerosene hung in the air around the single table lamp, and half the floorboards were loose. Still, it had four walls and a roof, therefore it would suffice.

A second shock came when he saw the pinscratches on the locks to his suitcases. _Kisama! I know exactly who did this..._ He opened them both and confirmed that the contents were untouched, then began making plans for Otto's untimely and very painful demise as he changed clothes.

The moment Heero set foot on the ground floor in one of his new suits, the doorbell rang. He winced again at the superfluous chimes and opened the door to reveal a very panicky postman, humiliated to be back on the same front porch at 3:45pm.

"I...I can't understand 'ow it 'appened, sir!" the cockney postman exclaimed in a serious dither. He was clutching an envelope, which shouldn't have been that unusual. "I finished me route, an' I was just about to go 'ome, and there it was in the bottom o' me bag!" Shaking, he held the letter out.

Heero took it without ceremony. A simple mistake, he'd just forgotten to deliver it that morning. No harm done. So why was the poor man so terrified? "Thank you," Heero said plainly.

The postman blinked, inhaled, blinked again, and thanked the Almighty. "Cor, I'm glad I got you today, sir! That big fellow woulda snapped me 'ead off for this!" He took off down the front walk before 'that big fellow' decided to make a surprise appearance.

Heero understood the postman's apprehension, but he didn't share it. Otto would be taken care of in his own good time; for now, there was a late letter to deliver. Heero looked it over on his way to the study, where Relena would be taking tea later. It was postmarked from Warsaw.

He strode into the study and handed her the letter crisply. "Late delivery for you, miss."

"Oh!" She took it, identified the handwriting immediately, and smiled. "Thank you, Heero. You may go now." She turned away and opened the envelope as Heero left. As he went out one doorway, Otto entered the study through another. Heero flattened himself against the wall just outside the room and listened intently.

"Otto! It's a letter from my uncle!"

"Which one, miss?" Otto asked, taking a chair opposite her.

Relena dropped her hands in her lap and grinned. "I only have one, silly...Uncle Treize!"

Heero bristled, but remained still and quiet.

"Ah, yes, the Count...what does he say?"

"He's coming here to manage the estate for us! He says he'll be here in a few weeks, to take over father's responsibilities, and he's bringing a guest as well...a duchess, or a marchesa from the sound of things...oh, won't it be wonderful to have guests in the house again? It'll be just like the old days!"

Otto smiled wistfully at her glee. "Shall I inform the staff that we'll be expecting his visit?"

"...no, I'd like to wait until we have more staff to inform. We should fill a few more positions first. I want this house to be exactly perfect...I want to make a good impression on him, so he can see how well I've been coping here on my own."

"Of course, Miss Relena."

From there the conversation shifted to less interesting topics, and Heero slunk away towards the dining room. _We'll do better than just make a good impression...we'll make a lasting one, and it's going to stick with you for a long time._ Heero took a chair in the dining room and began polishing the silver, preparing it for afternoon tea. Outside, a slow rain began to fall, beating a rhythm on the window pane at the precise speed of his thoughts, as his mind began the reflexive task of making plans for the visitor's arrival.

_I'll be waiting for you...Count Khushrenada..._

  
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> _Next, in Episode Three: Relena treats Quatre to some country air and recreation, but they are bound to be surprised by what they really find there; and while the cat's away, the kittens will play, and Heero suddenly becomes the mouse in the servants' sadistic power games. Will he survive his first weekend alone with Taskmaster Otto?_

That was *TOO* long a wait for Episode Two! =@_@= I'll try really hard not to do that again. Luckily, we won't have long to wait for Episode Three; mark June 6th on your calendars! It's finished already, so there's no way it'll be late! =^_^= What did Heero and Quatre say to each other in Arabic? "How are you?" "Fine, thanks." Wow. Riveting conversation, that. *grinz* My apologies to anyone who speaks Arabic and feels my transliteration isn't what it should be, I swear it came from another website. You know how difficult it is finding an English-Arabic dictionary online that gives you transliterations instead of inline images? Pretty freakin' hard, I can tell you! And the pastry with lamb stuffing...well, Catherine tries, bless her, but she doesn't always get it right. The recipe she used can be found on my webpage, along with the companion notes for this episode. Until the 6th, ja ne! 


	3. Ask Not For Whom the Bell Tolls

That was a refreshing little break, only three days...I haven't settled my mind as to any regular distance between episodes. So much of the story might depend on events that have already happened, so this fic's future kinda depends on history. =^_~= Oh yeah, this episode has a cricket match in it, and I know it's going to seem like a whole other language to some readers (it sure was to me!) but hang in there! Anywho, on with the show!

Disclaimer #1: I had three dozen of those damn "Roll Up the Rim to Win" cups from Tim Hortons over the last two months, and not ONE of them said "You win ultimate control over Gundam Wing and all the characters therein." I did, however, win two coffees, a bagel, a couple of donuts, and a cookie. I don't have them anymore *burp* so you can't sue me for them. =P

Disclaimer #2: I was an English major, so when I write, I write wordy. You have been warned. Muahahahahaaaa....  
**Suggested font: Times New Roman**  
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Episode Three: Ask Not For Whom the Bell Tolls...

> _"Grumblers never work, and workers never grumble." --Anonymous_

June 6th, 1901

After breakfast, Quatre stood at the end of the front walk, smiling and patting the snout of the waiting cabbie's horse. The animal huffed and snorted in a friendly way, totally at ease. The cheery, moustached cabbie smoothed out the brim of his top hat and grinned at Quatre from his high perch. "He likes you, mate."

"Most animals do," the blond boy said. "They can always tell I won't hurt them." He stroked the horse's neck while Otto and Heero brought a small army of suitcases down the walk and began loading them on top of the carriage. The chestnut steed shrank away from Otto, but it didn't seem to mind when Heero came near. Quatre made a note of that.

"And where are we off to today, sir?" the cabbie asked Otto, as the most senior member of staff present.

"Euston Station. Her Ladyship will be taking the earliest possible train to Bournemouth," he replied crisply, "with this young man." He indicated Quatre as discreetly as he could. Relena often enjoyed taking him along on short trips like this, for company, but since Otto would have to stay behind to show the new butler more of his duties, they would be travelling unescorted, and tongues could easily start wagging. It was a blessing that, when Quatre tidied himself up a bit, he looked, acted, and spoke very much like Relena, so people often mistook them for brother and sister.

As they finished securing the mountain of luggage to the rickety wooden vehicle, Relena emerged from the house at last, dressed in a smart blue travelling frock and flanked by the housemaids, Doris, Bethany, and of course Elsie. On her right arm was a delicate little handbag that matched her dress perfectly, and which also carried the train tickets. In her left arm she carried Frederick, a short-legged lap dog that was a curious tawny brown variety of West Highland Terrier, specially bred by an aristocratic woman in Norwich. Heero thought of Frederick as a wiry self-propelled mop with no handle.

She extended her free hand to Heero, allowing him the distinct priviledge of helping her into the carriage. Once she and Frederick were settled, she addressed her staff with a regal air. "Now, you _will_ be able to manage for the weekend, won't you? Elsie, I want that sideboard in the drawing room polished again, it's riddled with fingerprints already. Otto, be sure to tell Arthur about the loose step in the gazebo, I don't want anyone tripping over it. And the guest room linens need changing, that's for you, Bethany. We'll be back Saturday evening, so keep the home fires burning!"

The cabbie raised both eyebrows and suppressed a chuckle at the way the tiny slip of a girl doled out orders to people twice her age without a second thought. He gave the reins a tiny jerk, bringing the horse to attention; the horse responded with a snort and nuzzled Quatre sharply in the side of the head, as if to hurry him along.

"Okay, okay, I like you too!" he yelled back, laughing. Giving a quick nod goodbye to the others, he climbed into the carriage and sat next to Relena.

Otto closed the door to the carriage and stepped back; with a crack of the reins, they were on their way, and Relena waved to the housemaids like the Queen leaving Buckingham Palace. As the manor disappeared from view, she pulled her hand back inside and patted Frederick on the head. "I do hope they'll manage without me."

Quatre half-smiled at her self-importance. "I'm sure they'll be fine."

Back at the manor, the housemaids filtered back indoors, leaving Heero alone with Otto on the front walk. The larger man draped an arm around the other's shoulders and grinned condescendingly at him. "Today, my boy, we cross a major threshhold in your training. Today," he said, pushing him up the walk, "we tackle...the bellpull system."

They made their way through the basement, to a room off the kitchen with a massive board bolted to the wall. On the board was mounted no less than five dozen tiny antique bells, each about two inches in diameter. They all appeared to be identical, although a few were newer and had probably been recently replaced. Above each bell was a neatly-written label bearing the name of the room to which the bell was connected by a thick wire; they were arranged in three rows to represent the three main levels of the house, excluding the attic and basement.

"It's quite simple," Otto droned, "someone rings for you somewhere in the house, you read the board to determine in which room and on what floor your assistance is required, and then go at once. Speed is of great importance; you must think out the quickest possible route so as not to keep anyone waiting." Otto folded his arms and pasted on a devious smirk. "Say, for example, someone rings from the master bedroom on the second floor...naturally, you would have to take the east stairs, go straight past the library--"

"Straight past the library, left at his lordship's smoking room, through the back door of the upstairs parlour to the north hall, turn right at the nursery and head for the west exit which would put me in the master bedroom between the wardrobe and the writing desk in one minute ten seconds." Heero folded his arms casually. "Give or take. Forty-five seconds if I run."

Otto glared. _One week not even past and you think you've got the place memorized?_ "Don't interrupt while I'm instructing, _boy._" He quickly conjured up another scenario to reinforce his superiority. "If, by chance, you were called to Miss Relena's room," he said, narrowing his eyes, "you would take the south stairs all the way to the third floor, take the shortcut through the music room, and be absolutely sure to knock before entering, understand?" _And if I ever catch you there..._

Within two blinks, Heero had processed the route and pulled some extra information out of his mental database. "Except between 9 and 11 in the morning, Tuesdays and Fridays."

Puzzled, Otto dropped his hands back at his sides. "...what are you talking about?"

Heero drew a slow, deep breath. "On Tuesdays and Fridays, Bethany dusts the second floor. Between 9 and 11 in the morning, she's working in the billiard room. Where the south stairs meet the billiard room, there's a short landing between the stairwells, and the stairs continue up to the third floor after a jog of about twelve feet. Bethany is obsessed with keeping the carpets in good condition, so she pushes the billiard table to the south side of the room so she can bring up the pile of the carpet where the table sits. When she does this, the south stairs are blocked, unless you want to crawl under or over the billiard table." It would be simpler to ask Bethany not to do this, but Heero had a point to make to his haughty overseer. "At those specific times, it would be quicker to take the west stairs to the third floor and cut across the guest bedrooms."

Otto did his best not to look severely humbled. "...indeed. Well, I don't think we need go on with this, you seem to have a vague sense of what to do," he said with a huff. "I'll leave you to it, then." He let the barest hint of a smirk cross his face before leaving Heero alone with the bells.

After several minutes of staring at them, he still couldn't understand why Otto had left this part of his training so late. It seemed like a vital function, so what could be gained by putting the bells off until almost the end of the week? Shaking his head slightly, he wandered into the kitchen, sat down at the heavy block table, and nibbled boredly on a stale tea cake.

Once he sat down, he had a chance to close his eyes peacefully for all of thirty seconds before a viscious clanging pelted his ears from the other room. Eyes wide once more, he walked briskly to the board and saw not one, but _four_ bells ringing, one on the ground floor, two on the second floor, and one on the third, spread out to the four corners of the house. Exactly one bell for each of the housemaids, plus Otto. _I'll destroy you..._

The depth of their conspiracy was almost painful. Heero couldn't afford to have them convince Relena that he was slacking off from his work, and if he didn't answer each of those bells, that was exactly what might happen. He needed very badly to stay in that house. It didn't matter if the bells were contrived false alarms, he couldn't ignore any of them.

Hurriedly swallowing the last bite of dry cake, Heero flew up the stairs to the third floor. It was going to be another long day.

**********  
  


Although there had been a slight threat of rain in London, it was a gorgeous, warm day in Bournemouth, surprising even the natives, who were more than used to gray clouds swelling out from the salty coastline. Stepping out of the coach that brought them from the train station, Relena opened a pretty blue parasol that matched her purse and dress; Quatre carried little Frederick under one arm.

They strolled through a crowd of ladies in ruffled dresses and men in sweater-vests and straw hats until they reached the grandstands on either side of the bowling green at Dean Park. For the next three days, this would be the arena for a major sporting event to which thousands of eager fans had flocked--the cricket match between Hampshire and Kent.

Relena's late father had strong ties to the county of Hampshire, and had been a devoted supporter of the team for many years. Since this would be his first season of the sport that he would miss, it made Relena feel a bit better to put his longstanding reserved seating to good use, and carry on the family tradition.

"I like to think Father has the best view of all for the match," she said softly, glancing skyward.

Quatre let the moment pass without comment; everything he could have said to comfort her had already been said, and now he just wanted her to enjoy herself. As he parted the crowd for her, they passed two men standing off to the side, an umpire and someone from the Hampshire team. Quatre identified the player by the small design on his sweater, a crest with a crown and a white rose; both men were about the same height and spoke with the same clipped, stuffy, old-school accents. The player seemed to be upset about something.

"But you simply _have_ to let him play! It's an emergency!" the player begged.

"There's no possible way we can allow a scratch replacement so close to the start of the match," the umpire said. "If your regular player can't be here until tomorrow, you must either substitute another player, or forfeit. You cannot simply pull some chap off the street and put him in front of the wicket."

"He's not just a chap off the street, he's a cracking good batsman and he runs like the wind! He even has the same last name as our player! It's an omen, I tell you!" The player was pulling on the umpire's sleeve now, quite a strange thing to do. "Our man _will_ be here, just not until tomorrow. I don't see the harm in letting this boy take his place for an innings...or two..."

The umpire adjusted his straw hat with a sigh. "If mumsy were here, she'd make you go sit in the corner."

"If mumsy were here, she'd tell you to stop being so mean to me."

Quatre chuckled. Of course--they were brothers; it would be difficult to make an umpire bend the rules to accomodate anyone else but family.

"Alright," the elder brother conceded, "send your young chappie in, and I'll turn a blind eye, but if Kent twigs, on your own head be it."

"Oh, _thank_ you, Horace!" the younger brother squealed sickeningly. He trotted off to tell the replacement player that he was officially in the match.

Moments later, Quatre and Relena found their seats in the grandstand and settled in; he handed Frederick back to her as soon as she was seated, and the toffee-coloured terrier snuggled into the folds of fabric on her lap right away. Quatre sat on her right hand, and as the seats filled up, an elderly gentleman sat on his other side.

"Marvelous weather, don't you agree?" the moustached man said, tipping his brown trilby hat to Relena.

"Yes, just lovely!" she answered with a smile.

The man adjusted his spectacles and leaned forward on his oak walking stick. "I'm here supporting Hampshire, of course," he said with a sophisticated air. Bournemouth was located in Hampshire county, so naturally they had the larger portion of the supporters in the crowd.

"So are we!" Relena chimed. "My father had friends and family in Southampton, so I come to the matches as often as I can. It's a family tradition."

The moustache twitched. "Ah, then I'm sure you've heard about this debaucle over their star player..."

Quatre's eyebrows jumped up as he remembered the conversation he overheard earlier. "What's happened?" he asked.

"Sixth man in the lineup. Tall fellow. Plays deep mid-off in the outfield," the gentleman began. "Word has it among those of us in the know that he was on his way down from Middlesborough, visiting his mother, you know...when halfway through York, there was a landslip and the train couldn't get past. He won't be here until tomorrow, so Hampshire have had to make a last-minute substitution." The moustache twitched again. "Some local farm boy, I've heard."

"Oh, goodness, what an awful thing to happen!" Relena sighed.

"Now, don't be too sure about that, young lady," the man said with a twinkle in his eye. "A few minutes ago, I was talking to a wicket keeper for Hampshire, and apparently this young chap they've brought in is absolutely smashing. As luck would have it, he's even got the same last name as the fellow he's replacing! I've got his name here...oh, where's that program..."

The old man fumbled around in his pockets looking for the list of players. Just then, a dignified cascade of polite applause washed over the crowd, as eleven strapping young men from the home team jogged out onto the green. They were all dressed in identical white trousers and wore the same caps and sweaters emblazoned with the crest of Hampshire, and they all had the same calmly sportsmanlike manner about them...save one.

Quatre's eyes were drawn to the last man in line, and upon him his gaze stuck fast. He was easily the youngest of the group, and taller than most of them. The boy carried himself like a prince, his gait light, his movements graceful...and yet using his sixth sense, Quatre felt a wild, powerful energy lurking in him, just below the surface. He wanted desperately to be seen by the boy, so he could feel more of him, but it was difficult from that angle...his cinnamon brown hair was falling carelessly and beautifully into his eyes.

_That must be him..._ Quatre clasped his hands tightly together, trembling with the anticipation of hearing the boy's name for the first time.

The visiting team appeared on the field, and all persons present honoured the playing of "God Save the Queen" by a small brass band. By the time the players had taken their positions, the old gentleman found his list and began running through the names. "Now let me see here. Baldwin? No...Palmer? Don't think so...Steele? Doubt that...Llewellyn?"

Quatre was barely listening; he was enthralled by the waves of pure power wafting off the boy. _I've always been able to feel the energies of other people, but never like this...never anything like this in all my life. I have to know his name. I have to know him._

"Ah, here is it...Barton."

Relena squinted at the captains taking their places for the coin toss. "Is he the one with the dark hair and spectacles?" she asked.

"No, no," the gentleman said, "that's Reverend Grieg...or is it Webb?"

The two chatted quietly, right through the coin toss. Kent won and chose to bat first. Twenty-two players shuffled around on the pitch, and the whimsical spectators on either side of Quatre carried on their conversation, but he was blissfully ignorant of it all. He remained transfixed on the boy with the cinnamon hair.

He didn't actually understand very much about the game, but he paid dutiful attention as one man ran towards a second man, threw a ball at him, then either had it thrown back by the catcher or saw it fly past him, as the second man, and now a third, ran back and forth across the pitch. After they had done this several dozen times, Quatre didn't feel any closer to understanding the action, except for the observation that when Hampshire hit the ball and ran back and forth, the home crowd cheered, so it must be a good thing. Relena and the old man saw his confusion early on and tried to give him pointers, but a half-hour into the match, he was still pretty much lost.

Every now and then, Quatre perked up whenever the red leather ball was handed to the Barton lad. He seemed to face the same batter each time he bowled; the team obviously had a strategy in mind. Running towards the batter time and again, he hurled the ball forward with the same graceful but strong overhand lob. Sometimes the batter struck the ball, sometimes not; the actual game didn't matter to Quatre--he simply wanted to catch the boy's eye each time he walked back to the other end of the pitch.

_Please look at me...just once..._

"Quatre?" He snapped his head around to look at a concerned Relena. "You don't look as if you're enjoying yourself," she said sympathetically.

"Oh, it's not that at all," he flubbed, not wanting to take his eyes off the field. "I'm just trying hard to pay attention."

Relena put a hand on his, where it rested in his lap. Again he felt a slight heat rising to his face, and tried to hide his blush by turning away. "We can leave early if you like," she offered.

Forgetting the rosy colour he must have turned by then, he looked back at her, earnestly. "No, no, I _want_ to stay! I'm glad we came, I really, really am."

She seemed satisfied with that, and after exchanging smiles they turned their attention back to the field just as Mr. Barton stepped into the crease with bat in hand. Quatre nearly jumped out of his chair; following the pattern he'd seen all afternoon, if he hit the ball, he'd get a chance to run, much faster than he did while bowling. _I hope he does run...I can feel him so strongly just standing still, what must it be like when he's using every last drop of his energy?_ Quatre held his breath as the first ball was delivered.

At the near end of the pitch to where Quatre was sitting was the second batsman, who would run and exchange places with Barton if the ball was hit. The bowler for Kent shined the ball on his trouser leg, jogged forward, and released the ball at a frightening speed. A snapping sound of willow bat against leather ball was heard, and the two batsmen took off towards each other, while the crowd cheered.

Quatre was mesmerized as he watched the cinnamon-haired boy run. He was fast--incredibly fast--aided by long, powerful legs and the fire of determination as he sprinted gracefully across the lawn. Quatre seemed to see him in slow motion, relishing the sight of the boy's lips barely parted and gasping for breath, his limbs pounding with the speed of a wild cheetah, and the single visible eye shining with hot, emerald rays of reflected sunlight. The boy reached his target and turned around, ready for another run, but he was so much quicker than the other batsman that by the time one run had been legally completed between them, the ball had been fielded and the play was over.

"I say, didn't I tell you that boy was something?" the old man shouted over the applause.

"I've never seen anyone move as fast as that!" Relena said in awe.

Quatre let them chatter on either side of him, while he watched the runner standing still again, not even out of breath. He didn't realize he was staring until the cinnamon-haired boy turned at the waist and looked up into the stands--looked _directly_ at Quatre. The blond gardener gasped and clutched a pale hand to his sweater, right above his heart; his eyes were wide with shock and exhiliration as they finally made eye contact.

The Barton lad stared back for a moment ot two, then smiled slightly and touched a hand up to the brim of his cap in a gentlemanly salute. Quatre smiled back, his heart racing suddenly.

Play resumed quickly, and as the afternoon wore on, there was a definite change in Mr. Barton's behaviour. More and more often, especially after scoring a run for his team, he would look up into the crowd to meet the turquoise eyes of his fair-haired admirer. One time at bat, he had a massive hit, and the ball flew past the boundary, counting for six runs automatically. Amid the cheers of 'well played!' and 'good show!' from the spectators, he looked straight up at Quatre and smiled widely, as if to say, 'See that? That was for you.'

Relena looked around, puzzled. "That one seems to be looking this way an awful lot. Do you suppose he's got family sitting near us?"

Quatre nodded slowly, with a heartfelt smile. "Or a friend."

Blissfull as it was, it couldn't last forever, and eventually the match wrapped up for the day, and would continue Friday afternoon. Relena was still chatting with the nice old man as the trio left their seats and meandered about the grounds. The players, for the most part, were packing up and leaving; Quatre left Relena to her conversation and darted around, looking for the friend he'd never met.

He searched and searched, but couldn't locate him anywhere. Finally, he latched onto the umpire's younger brother, the one who had been pleading Mr. Barton's case earlier. "Excuse me," Quatre said with a note of desperation, "can you tell me where that substitute player is? The one with the hair in his eyes?"

"Oh, terribly sorry, but he's gone home. Had to be at a church somewhere. Friend of yours, is he?"

Quatre evaded the question. "Which church? Where?"

The player scratched his head and frowned. "Oh, golly...do you know, I've absolutely no idea...definitely in the countryside somewhere. Doubt very much if he'll be able to pop round for the rest of the match, especially since our regular chap'll be here tomorrow." He totally missed the disappointment on Quatre's face. "Stil, never mind, he did a super job for us anyway. Must dash!" And with that, he nodded curtly and left with a stupidly upper-class grin.

A little invisible storm cloud formed directly over Quatre's head. _Well, that's it then. Somewhere in the countryside...there's only 3000 square miles of countryside here. Finding one church with one green-eyed cricketer in it should be a snap._ He dragged himself dejectedly back to where he left Relena. They had to leave soon, to stay at the Peacecrafts' country estate until the match resumed the next day. That boy was probably long gone and headed in the opposite direction. _Serves me right for getting my hopes up._

He was very quiet as Relena ordered a carriage to take them to the estate. She said her goodbyes to the elderly cricket fan, piled her dog and her gardener into the open-top buggy, and they were on their way once again.

**********  
  


By tea time, the sound of ringing bells was making Heero physically ill. Before he could finish dealing with the person on the other end of one bell, another two would start ringing, and after each task, he had to sprint all the way back downstairs to find out where he was 'needed' next. Between Otto and the three housemaids, who apparently had no more regard for him than Otto did, less even, they were able to work in shifts dragging Heero all over the house and still have time to eat. Heero, for his part, hadn't had a morsel in almost seven hours. 

The threat of being sacked for inefficiency was no longer in his mind as he raced around; now he was doing it purely to prove to them all that he could, and that their intimidation techniques weren't going to spook him into leaving Bridlewood. It was clear now why Otto had waited to show him the bells; he couldn't have gotten away with such treachery while Relena was at home.

There seemed to be no end to it. He was called to the front parlour. Doris. Help move the piano. Called to the second floor guest suite. Bethany this time. Pry up the heating grate so she could retrieve a lost button. Called to the library. Otto. Rearrange the great classical works of literature in alphabetical order by title. Dining room. Elsie. Take the crystal out of the cabinet and dust every piece. Library. Otto again. Changed his mind, rearrange the books by author's last name.

He wondered if they would keep up their sick, sadistic game all night, or if they might actually let him sleep. Mercifully, while the four of them enjoyed an extra-long tea break that eventually turned into dinner, in the dining room using the freshly-dusted crystal no less, they got bored with tormenting him and just sat around complaining about how difficult their lives were and how they all deserved better.

Tired and hungry, Heero skulked down into the kitchen to see what Elsie had prepared for the evening meal. To his starved senses, even the substandard aromas lingering in the air were tantalizing and inviting, but while the air in the room was thick with the scent of hot food, the cooking pots were empty. Bewildered, he checked the pantry and the cupboards. A lot of food was missing, and a lot of serving dishes as well.

He scowled viciously at the ceiling. _They've taken everything upstairs to make sure I either go hungry or humble myself by eating at the same table as them. Well, it won't work._ Furiously indignant, he threw himself into a chair and folded his arms. _After what they put me through today, I'd sooner starve._

It could have been his imagination, but he thought he heard people laughing and dishes clinking above him. Then his stomach growled with urgency and he suddenly felt a bit light-headed. Starving was not an option.

He thought of going across town to the Muddy Nag for some of Catherine's veal casserole, but Otto would probably construe that as abandoning his post, and his suitcases might very well be sitting out on the front step when he returned. He needed some fresh air, though, and if it wasn't safe to leave by the front door, at least there were the spacious back gardens.

Heero climbed the half-flight of concrete stairs up and out of the basement kitchen, into a back yard one could easily get lost in. There were several acres of lush green lawns and gardens full of fragrant flowers, bordered by trees and a rock wall. In the southwest corner was the stable, where the two horses that pulled Relena's carriage resided. In the northwest corner was the garden shed, the size of a small log cabin.

Smoke billowing out from the chimney caught Heero's eye. _A potting shed wih a chimney? It must be Arthur,_ he thought, remembering the quiet carpenter who was Quatre's only assistance in tending the grounds. He hadn't properly met the man yet, and was simply told that his name was Arthur Dunnet and he fixed things. Except Quatre, no one ever spoke to Arthur except to ask that something be repaired, and Arthur himself rarely spoke at all.

Before he could think twice, Heero found himself hiking to the potting shed. When he got up close, it looked much larger that it should've done, and he guessed that Arthur's living quarters must be here rather than in the basement of the house, where Quatre slept.

_He's cooking something in there, I can smell it!_ In an instant, the hungry boy forgot the courtesy of knocking and opened the front door to the cabin, poking his head in just far enough to see Arthur stirring something delectable on top of a pot-bellied stove. The wizened old carpenter looked up, saw the glazed and fatigued look in Heero's eyes, and wordlessly ladled out two bowls of the piping hot concoction. Taking this as an invitation, Heero walked the rest of the way inside and closed the door, then sat down at the heavy wooden table opposite the man.

Arthur regarded Heero with a calmly contented expression, waiting for him to taste his handiwork. Heero looked at him hesitantly, then picked up a fork and sampled it. The old carpenter had made himself an exquisite beef and potato hotpot, with fresh carrots and onions, grown in his own little garden out the back. Heero knew all his life that food existed to keep you alive, not to make you happy, but that night he discovered that food tasted a hundred times better when you were forced to wait for it, and at the first bite his stern face melted into ecstasy.

Smiling at the boy's reaction, Arthur slowly picked away at his dinner, watching Heero the entire time. He poured two glasses of homemade elderberry wine, and refilled Heero's dish the moment it was emptied, pleased that the second helping disappeared as quickly as the first. In the house of the poorest and lowliest inhabitant of Bridlewood, Heero ate like a king.

It wasn't until the tea and the bread pudding afterwards that he stopped long enough to think and realize why Arthur was rarely seen around the house; he had learned to make a cozy, separate little life for himself away from overbearing Otto and the petty housemaids. Heero couldn't help but admire him for that.

After dinner, Arthur moved to one of two well-worn armchairs in front of the fireplace and lit a pipe. Heero wondered if he'd overstayed his welcome, but the old man made no protest when he slowly rose from the table and cautiously sat in the other armchair. Arthur still hadn't said a word.

_Why do all this for me, when you don't even know me?_ Heero thought. Arthur was also the only servant there who hadn't participated in working him to the point of exhaustion just to be cruel. The carpenter caught the look of confusion mixed with gratitude in Heero's face and nodded with a slight smile, as if reading the boy's mind. _Because you're not like Otto and the others...I wish you had found me as a child instead of..._

Heero forced himself away from unpleasant thoughts of the past and stared into the fire. He would have to go back to the house eventually, not just for his duties as butler, but to write a report of the week's events for his contact at the remote address in the north. But for now, the fire was warm and the company was pleasant enough; he was content to let matters wait a little while longer.

Before he left the cabin that evening, he decided that the kindly carpenter would be the first peron he would deliberately avoid harming during the course of his mission. Arthur Dunnet had made the "A" list.

**********  
  


The buggy carrying Relena, Quatre, and Frederick bounced along the bumpy country road towards the tiny village outside which the Peacecrafts' rural estate sprawled across the rich, green land. At their current pace, they would make it there just in time for dinner. Luckily, there were still enough locals working on the estate in exchange for harvesting the fields that the estate ran itself fairly well, although nine-tenths of the house was under dustcovers.

As they neared the border of Wilts county, Relena heard a sound she never expected--a church bell was ringing somewhere to the northwest, but it was an odd day as well as an odd time for it. "Driver!" she called out. "Do you know this area well?"

"Yes, ma'am, been 'ere all me life!" he said over his shoulder. "Started driving this pony n' trap about the borough when I was a lad o' fourteen."

"Well, I spent ages in this county as a child, and I thought I knew when all the little country churches held mass..." Relena mused with confusion.

The driver snapped the reins lightly and shook his head. "No ma'am, t'isn't mass, t'is the early hiring fair. All the free farm hands collect together at the parish of Puddleduck-on-the-Marsh when the bell rings out, and the local squires look 'em over as prospective workers. Only there's so many out of work, t'is going on all week, three times a day. Right now must be the evening batch."

Relena leaned back and pondered. "A hiring fair...right near the country house...and we're here already..."

"Are you thinking of going?" Quatre asked.

She nodded. "It makes sense, doesn't it? We still need more outdoor staff in London, and it's not that big of a detour." She made up her mind and called to the front of the carriage again. "Driver, take the next road towards that church please!"

"Right you are, ma'am," he said, and he led the horses down another dirt road.

When they approached the parish, it was obvious that even at dinnertime, this was a serious business. Hundreds of men were standing in a narrow stretch of field next to the little church, and each carried the implement of his trade. Farmers carried pitchforks and spades, cattle herders carried yokes, horse trainers carried whips and saddles. In front of them mulled a throng of country gents, haggling and barganing with various prospects over wages and working hours.

The driver pulled the buggy up to the church and let his passengers out, right where some local ladies were serving tea and light refreshments off lace-covered tables. Relena chatted with them while she and Quatre enjoyed a brief snack to tide them over until they got to her country house. After a scone each and a quick cup of tea, she set to work examining the men for hire.

With a positively regal air, Lady Peacecraft looked them over one by one, trying to decide which of them would be most suitable to invite back to London. She patted Frederick on the head, in deep thought, while Quatre followed dutifully behind. Taking clues from the other employers, she spoke to several of them about their work experience and special skills, as well as what she expected out of her workers. Quatre found it all quite boring, and he wandered off after a short while.

_I'd rather by anyplace else, but I should be grateful she wants to hire someone to help me. It's getting awfully tiring, now that the gardens are in full bloom._ He walked down the line with his hands clasped behind his back, making a mental list of things to be done when he got back to Bridlewood. Absentmindedly, he looked up from the ground and froze right where he stood in utter shock.

Ahead of him was a plump old baron with a monocle, shiny shoes, an upper-crust handlebar moustache, and a gold watch on a chain. He was rubbing his chin and negotiating with a boy carrying a riding crop. A tall boy with cinnamon hair and emerald eyes. _It can't be!!_ Quatre squinted and studied him; it was definitely the scratch player from the cricket match!

The thrill of finding the wild boy again _and_ seeing that he was for hire as an outdoor labourer filled Quatre with such jubilation as he had never known. Quickly, however, it was overshadowed by the horrific realization that he was about to be hired by someone else. The boy was nodding as the portly baron described the position he had open on his estate.

Quatre was staring again, filled with panic; the cinnamon-haired boy must have felt the weight of his eyes, as he looked in Quatre's direction, looked back at the baron, then snapped his eyes wide open at the blond boy in a disbelieving double-take. Although he didn't smile in front of the rotund aristocrat, his flashing green eyes betrayed his delight at seeing his 'friend' from the grandstand.

"Boy? Are you listening to me?" the baron barked grumpily.

"Uh...yes, sir. Sorry, sir," he answered meekly, dragging his eyes away from the fair-haired lad. Quatre shivered; the boy's voice was like the sweetest honey falling on his ears. He backed away in a fluster and grabbed Relena's arm as she was talking to a beet farmer.

"Relena!" he gasped. "You've _got_ to come see someone over here!"

She appeared annoyed and embarassed that her gardener was addressing her in the familiar in front of common folk. "I'm busy, Quatre, couldn't this wait?"

"No, it _can't!_" he almost shouted.

Relena flushed and turned to the farmhands. "Do excuse us a moment," she said with a smile. She dragged Quatre aside by the arm. "How dare you speak to me in such a fashion!?" she whispered fiercely.

Quatre took a step back as if she had physically struck him. "I...I'm sorry...but there's a fellow over there who I think is _perfectly_ suited for our needs, and if you don't hurry, he's going to be hired by someone else!" He pointed at the Barton lad, who was biting his lip, rubbing the back of his neck and looking nervously at Quatre and Relena while the baron yammered at him.

"Him?" Relena sounded surprised, but not particularly interested. "I was really hoping for someone a bit older and stronger. Look at him, he's skin and bones! If he didn't wear heavy workboots, the breeze might blow him all the way to Beachy Head!" She turned to head back to the lineup.

Quatre ran in front of her before she took two steps. "He's bigger than _me_, and I already work outside! And...and we saw him in the cricket match today, remember? You saw yourself that he can run and he's strong, so he _must_ be in good health, right? You wouldn't want to hire someone you've never seen in action and then find out he's lazy or a drinker, would you?"

Relena stood there and looked peeved. "Quatre, I need someone who can tend the grounds and trim the trees and drive the horses. I do NOT neet a substitute bowler who looks like he's fresh out of mixed infants school!"

"But he _wants_ to come with us!" he said desperately, looking over at the green-eyed boy again. He was staring at the ground now.

"Is that what he told you?"

Quatre paused hopelessly. _He didn't have to tell me, I felt it!_ "No, I...haven't spoken to him, but I know he doesn't want to go with that man."

Relena shook her head. "Now you're just being silly. Here, make yourself useful and take little Freddie for a walk," she said, shoving the dog into his arms. "Just keep out from underfoot until it's time to go home, and don't pester me again or I won't take you on any more outings!" She walked swiftly past him to continue her negotiations.

The little invisible storm cloud returned to it's place over Quatre's head, and even Frederick whimpered a little. He looked back at his 'friend'; the boy had his arms folded and his eyes downcast, and the baron's hands were on his wide hips in frustration. Turning down work was risky business because regardless of his personal feelings, he still had to eat, but the boy seemed reluctant to give the baron an answer. He looked up with intense eyes, and Quatre suddenly understood; he was stalling for time.

The gardener flipped open the massive strategy book in his brain and formulated a plan that might get them closer to what they both wanted without making Relena _too_ angry with him. He knelt and set the dog down on the ground. "Now listen, Frederick," he whispered in the terrier's pointy, upturned ear. "You see that fat man in the black suit? See how he's bothering that nice boy? Well, I want you to sic him! Bite his ankle! Be a menace! Now go, Freddie! Go boy!"

The dog looked up at Quatre and made an 'urrf?' noise.

Quatre sighed. "Please, Freddie, for me? Just go bark at him or something!" He stood and looked down at the dog, motioning for him to hurry up and get over there.

At last something clicked in Frederick's doggie brain, and he trotted off on his little legs to stand next to the fat baron and the slender farmhand. _Yes! Good boy!_ he thought. The dog looked up at the baron, yipped once, and wagged his tail merrily. Quatre slapped both hands over his eyes. _No! Don't make friends with him, scare him away!_

The baron only frowned at the dog and tried to shoo him away with his brass-handled walking stick; then he turned back to Mr. Barton. "Well, young man? Do we have an agreement or not?"

The situation seemed hopeless for the two lower-class teenages in the face of such an imposing aristocratic presence as the baron. Suddenly, Quatre clutched a hand to his chest as he felt an ominous pressure building from afar; the cinnamon-haired boy looked at Quatre, looked at the dog, then manufactured an intense, gut-wrenching feeling of fear and projected it directly at Frederick.

The tiny terrier responded immediately and sprang into action, growling and snarling at the baron, with his ears flat against his furry head. Quatre gasped in amazement; the boy had not only picked up on his plan, but had somehow convinced the dog, with a single thought, that he felt as if he were in mortal danger from the man in the black suit. Frederick honestly believed he was saving the farmhand from a fate worse than death, and that his mistress would reward him handsomely for it.

"Who let this animal loose!? Whose is it!?" the corpulent baron bellowed. By now, nearly all eyes were focused in their direction, drawn in by the dog's violent barking. Relena was one of the last to look, and raced over as gracefully as she could. Quatre followed.

"Naughty Frederick! I'm ever so sorry, sir! Quatre, I thought you were watching him!!" she blurted.

The two boys did their best job of looking innocent while the baron ranted. "How impertinent! Letting this wild beast trample all over people, why I've a good mind to call the proper authorities and have you both--" His ranting slowed to a grinding halt, and his face went ashen. Everyone followed his eyes downward as he looked at Frederick, standing on three legs, indignantly soaking the man's shoe the only way he knew how.

Relena gasped. The baron fumed. The boys blushed and the dog looked quite pleased with himself. With a strangled roar, the massive man staggered backwards, heaved and panted with rage for a bit, then barrelled off towards the church, muttering syllables that were best left incomprehensible.

Relena scooped Frederick up off the ground and held his face up to hers. "You're a naughty Freddie, you are! And _you_," she said, turning to Quatre, "I'll have a word with you about this later, make no mistake."

Quatre ignored her harsh tone, looking back and forth between her and the cinnamon-haired boy. He finally locked eyes with her boldly, filled with all the pent-up lonliness of a lifetime. "Please, Miss Relena? I know he'll do a good job for us, and frankly..." He trailed off, wringing his hands nervously. "I don't mean to sound selfish...but I really don't have anyone my age I can talk to."

Frowning sadly, she knew he was right. Most everyone at the manor besides herself was a good deal older than he was, and Heero didn't count because he was indoor staff. Besides, she had other plans for her butler anyway. She rolled her eyes in resignation and sighed deeply. "Very well...we'll see."

Lady Peacecraft and a widely grinning gardener took their place where the fat baron had stood. Relena adjusted Frederick in her arms and put on her strictly-business face. "And what's your name?"

"Trowa Barton, miss," the boy said quietly.

She nodded. "And what do you do?"

"Whatever needs doing, miss," he answered. "But I'm good with horses in particular."

Relena had to admit to herself that this was getting awfully convenient. She needed a coachman and a stable lad badly, and the boy looked healthy enough to do both jobs for the time being. _Nevertheless, one mustn't appear desperate._ "I am Lady Peacecraft of Bridlewood Manor in London. There _may_ be a position open at my estate, tending the horses and driving my carriage, but truthfully, I haven't made up my mind yet," she said haughtily.

The blond boy next to her cleared his throat softly. Even the aristocracy needed to be reminded of their manners occasionally. "Oh yes," she said dryly, "this is my moral conscience, Quatre Sagheer." She waved briefly in his direction, and emerald eyes finally met jewels of sea green in a silent greeting.

Relena went on and on about duties and wages, blathering vacantly like any good socialite does when faced with the prospect of being snookered into doing whatever the servants wanted. She hardly noticed that Trowa scarcely looked at her the entire time she spoke, choosing instead to gaze into the eyes of his new friend. Relena negotiated fairly, but in reality she could have had him for practically any price; from the instand he heard Quatre's name, he didn't take notice of a single word she said.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


> _Next, in Episode Four: The residents adjust to having more people about the manor, and there's still more to come than most of them realize. Quatre makes his new friend feel at home, Relena frets over not being able to find a chef, and Heero catches the pie thief!_

Ok, how badly did I butcher the game of cricket, can anyone tell me? I tried really hard to study it in the short span of time I had to write this, and I think I got it straightened out more or less, but nobody really knows the game better than the people who grew up with it. =^_~= This was no randomly-generated game, either...check the notes on my website for some interesting historical facts about Hampshire v. Kent! *giggles insanely* I'm enjoying writing Episode Four...hehehehehehehehe. *suspense* Now I have to pick a date...let's say the 12th, shall we? That oughta gimmie enough time to finish it and get a head start on Episode Five. =^-^= Cyaz! 


	4. The Case of the Peckham Pie Thief

You know what I get more emails about than anything else? "Who's the pie thief?" =^_^= I love my work....*huggles the pie thief* Golly, the suspense is just TOO much, isn't it? hehehehehe!

Disclaimer #1: I had three dozen of those damn "Roll Up the Rim to Win" cups from Tim Hortons over the last two months, and not ONE of them said "You win ultimate control over Gundam Wing and all the characters therein." I did, however, win two coffees, a bagel, a couple of donuts, and a cookie. I don't have them anymore *burp* so you can't sue me for them. =P

Disclaimer #2: I was an English major, so when I write, I write wordy. You have been warned. Muahahahahaaaa....  
**Suggested font: Times New Roman**  
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Episode Four: The Case of the Peckham Pie Thief

> _"The sublime and the ridiculous are often so nearly related that it is difficult to class them separately. One step above the sublime makes the ridiculous, and one step above the ridiculous makes the sublime again." --Thomas Paine_

June 12th, 1901

Catherine rose at half past nine with a mission. Today, she was determined to conquer her culinary demons or perish trying; she made the same promise to herself every morning and it had yet to be fulfilled. But today was going to be the day.

Throwing on her green crepe shawl, she scoured the market for the finest fresh berries available, painstakingly inspecting every bit of fruit in every stall from one end of the street to the other. She returned to her kitchen with a basket full of prime ingredients, rolled up her sleeves, and set to work assembling the finest pie of her cooking career. Coated in shortening, flour and berry juice stains, she popped the pie into the oven and moved on to phase two of her plan.

From her cellar, Catherine collected buckets, ropes, and old, broken ladders and chairs she swore she'd find a use for someday--and what better day to use them! She carted the junk into the alley behind the pub and looked up at the windowsill upon which the fate of her pies rested.

Ignoring the puzzled looks of stray cats passing by, she built a series of obstacles and barriers stretching across the entire width of the alley, a good thirty feet in either direction from the window, and twice her own height up the wall. Within an hour, a large area around the prized windowsill was a tangle of snares even the rats ran away from; buckets were stacked on chairs stacked on cartwheels stacked on rain barrels, and it was all held together by about twelve miles of half-inch rope.

Grinning to herself, she went back inside to check on her creation, into which she had poured more concentration and hard work than she had ever done in her life. When the pie thief came for her today, she would be ready.

**********  
  


"I'm not having any argument about this, Otto, either we go home with a quality cook who can make a suitably good impression on Uncle Treize, or we don't go home at all!" Relena slapped the palm of her hand with a dainty white glove to punctuate her statement. "We simply _cannot_ serve him the kind of food Elsie prepares, we'd be ruined socially!"

Otto struggled to keep up with her as she stormed down the streets in a flurry of ribbons and petticoats. "While I agree with your Ladyship _in principle_, the fact remains that we've been searching the city for three days, and there is simply no one available for the post who will meet our terms!"

The daily charade was beginning to get silly. Each day since Relena had returned from Bournemouth, she would pack Otto and Heero off with her to scour the restaurants and the cooking schools of London for anyone who might be able to take over the meals of the manor before Treize arrived. Everyone they approached, unfortunately, was either unqualified, unsuitable, or unwilling to leave their present position for the money Relena was offering.

"I just can't accept that there isn't _one_ person suitable in the whole of London. It's impossible!" Lady Peacecraft frowned daggers at the street before her and kept on walking with Otto at her elbow, trying to reason with the hard-headed girl. Heero followed quietly at a respectable distance.

Otto looked over his shoulder at the tagalong, then spoke in Relena's ear. "Perhaps we could cover more ground if we split up." He clearly didn't like being followed by the boy, official business or not. 

"Oh, that's an excellent idea!" she cheered. Relena hadn't really had a good reason for bringing him along except that she wanted to spend more time with him. Her eyes lit up and she turned around swiftly. "Yes, well done indeed. Heero, let's--"

"Begging her Ladyship's pardon," Otto said, grasping her arm before she could stray too far. "It would be rather...imprudent to be roaming the streets alone with m'lady's butler, under any circumstances."

Relena looked disappointed; Heero showed no reaction whatsoever. "Very well, if you insist." She started walking back down the road, dejectedly, knowing that Otto was quite correct; it wouldn't look at all proper.

Otto clasped his hands behind his back resolutely and turned to Heero. "Still, never mind, there's no reaon why _you_ can't go off on your own." He didn't even need the false smile he wore, because Heero picked up on the hint easily. They exchanged angry, territorial looks, and parted ways. Otto steered his young charge down a more respectable boulevard, and Heero disappeared in the opposite direction, almost grateful to be off his leash.

As he walked through the midday mob, Heero actually allowed his mind to go blank, a rare luxury, and he avoided obstacles like horsecarts and children playing in the street as if on autopilot. The simple bliss of not thinking would be a little more scarce after today; Relena's new farmhand was arriving from Hampshire that afternoon, and if she found a cook, that would be two more staff members to supervise. He made full non-use of his spare time while he still could by letting his eyes glaze over, ears clouded with the drone of the marketplace, until he looked up and found himself in front of a familiar door.

Shaking his mind out of the sea of white noise, he read the name on the door with mild surprise at how far he had walked. He had wandered straight to the Muddy Nag. Holding back a smirk at how he naturally gravitated towards the familiar, he left the front step just as a pair of grubby workers from the market shoved past him on their way for an early pint. It was then that Heero heard the crash.

A horrible, clattering, smashing sound began in the alley beside the pub, and it grew quickly. He heard Catherine scream and ran to the corner of the building. Just as he reached the alley, something strong, lanky, and carrying a pie slammed into him. Before he could think, Heero was flung forcibly into a brick wall with the wind knocked out of him.

He was faintly aware of shouting in the street, and the sound of rapidly fading footsteps belonging to his assailant, but he couldn't command his body to move. Doubled over and coughing, he pulled his head up to look down the alley. It was a tangled mess of crates, tables, ladders and rope; Catherine was leaning out the window, still hurling curses and insults at full strength.

"Catch him, Heero! That's him! That's the pie thief! Get him!"

Heero dragged himself to his feet, brow heavy with the wrath of a thousand hells, and took off after the bandit. He'd get him, alright, but not for swiping one lousy pie, or even a hundred pies. Nobody shoved Heero Yuy into a brick wall and lived to tell the tale.

The bandit had a good head start, but he left a trail of alarmed pedestrians throughout the marketplace as he darted in between stalls and under carts. All Heero had to do was follow the line of stunned faces and he began closing in on the thief. Inching closer to his target as they sprinted through the crowded streets, he could see him more clearly--about his height, wearing a shabby brown suit and a tweed cap. There seemed to be something sticking out of his collar at the back.

People literally jumped aside when the thief came tearing past, and Heero was close enough now to hear the boy shouting things as he ran. "One side! 'Scuse me! Comin' through! Love that hat!" As he rounded a corner, he caught a glimpse of the richly-dressed dark-haired boy following him, and poured on even more speed, careening down one of the back streets.

Heero matched his speed, but if the boy proved himself to be any quicker, he doubted he'd be able to catch up with him. When the thief started knocking over barrels and crates in path, it was all he could do to leap over the obstacles like a high hurdler and still keep up the frenzied pace. _How is he doing all this at such a speed without dropping the pie?_ A stupid thought, but Heero couldn't help himself.

As the bandit ran down a darkened, high-walled alley, it looked like he was running out of steam at last. Up ahead, there was suddenly a six-foot wooden fence blocking the alley. _Hah! Got you!_ No sooner had the words echoed inside his head than the pie thief accelerated towards the fence, leapt halfway up, grabbed the top edge with one hand and flung himself over it, all without dropping the pie.

Heero nearly tripped over his own jaw. _...the hell? How does he..._ Fighting a state of total shock, he clambered up the fence and jumped over it as well; it took Heero both hands. The thief heard the soles of his hunter's shoes hitting the ground behind him and looked back in a shock of his own.

Up ahead was a second fence, similar to the first, but the bandit had used up too much energy protecting his treasure, and he was definitely slowing down. Heero got another look at the back of the boy's collar; something seemed to be wriggling out of it as he ran. A hundred yards to go, and with every step, the object tucked down inside the thief's jacket inched further out of it, until it finally jumped free and flew out behind him.

Heero squinted in disbelief, suddenly unsure of exactly _what_ he was chasing. The bandit possessed long, chocolate brown hair woven into a three-foot braid. As it twisted and danced in the breeze, it caught little streams of sunlight and glowed with bright golden highlights, seemingly with a life all it's own. Heero found himself watching it like a cat playing with a bit of yarn.

Soon, the analytical part of his brain took over and pointed out that if this yard-long rope of hair was trailing behind the villain, that was a yard less distance Heero had to close between them in order to catch him. He gave it every last ounce of speed he had, focusing on his new target. The thief kept looking behind him in terror, then back at the fence. He was so close, if only he could make it another twenty yards...

The hunter glided nearer still and made a calculated grab at the braid. He snagged it, first try. "Ow! Leggo!" the robber yelped. They both ran together as Heero pulled the scraggly head backwards and reached around his quarry's side to grab his free arm. Seconds later, he twirled the thief around and tackled him to the cobbled street, landing square on top of him.

The thief coughed and wheezed from the impact, pinned in place and trying to wrestle his empty arm out of the hunter's grip. Heero wondered where the boy's other arm was and located it after a brief search; it was stretched out to the side, still holding the perfectly unscathed pie off the ground.

"If you want one, then get your own!" the thief yelled angrily, seeing how Heero looked at the pie. "I've been working that alley for months now, and I've got rights to it! You find your own window and stay out of my business!" He kicked and squirmed underneath his captor, but he couldn't break free, nor would he relinquish his aromatic trophy.

Keeping a firm grip on the lapels of his prisoner's coat, Heero got up and hauled the boy to his feet. _If you'd just dropped the damn pie, you wouldn't have gotten caught!_ He shook his head. "Idiot."

The thief took severe exception to being insulted, and thrashed around in Heero's grip until the dark-haired boy was forced to pin his free arm behind his back. Whatever punishment his body took, the thief made every effort to save the pie, as if it were a matter of life or death. Heero marched him to the fence, opened the gate, and shoved him through, clutching him by the arm and the scruff of the neck.

"Ouch! Geez, okay, okay! We can share the alley if you're that upset about it!" the thief blubbered as Heero shoved him down the rest of the backroad towards the street. "Hey, you're not one of those plain-clothes police officers, are you? You can't convict a man without a fair trial, you know! I'm an American and I wanna see a lawyer, understand!? What's Scotland Yard care about a few missing pies, anyway? OW! Watch it! You don't have to twist my arm right off!"

As soon as they were out in the direct sunight, Heero backed the thief up against a wall, clutching his braid like a leash. "Listen very carefully. We're going back to the windowsill you stole that pie from, and you'll have a chance to apologize for the trouble you've caused. Then you're going straight to the magistrate's office to answer for your previous thefts."

Heero searched the boy's face for traces of remorse, and found himself staring longer than he probably should have. His prisoner was no older than he was, but obviously poorer; his arm had felt sickeningly thin within his strong grasp. Partly hidden under spiky brown bangs was a gaunt, heart-shaped face, it's delicate features and pert elven nose smudged with grime from the street. His eyes were the most curious shade of violet, and shined with mischief.

"I've got a better idea," the thief pleaded cleverly. "Why don't you and me team up? Then we could hit twice as many windows and split the takings 60-40, only 'cause it was my idea, y'see, I'd be the brains of the operation. How 'bout it?" He tried to grin his way out of a tough situation, a talent at which he'd had much practice.

Heero wasn't impressed. "I don't think so." He began marching the boy back towards the pub.

"Alright, 50-50 and you get first pick of the goods, but that's my final offer. I'm giving you a good deal here, buddy!" The thief was still trying to bargain his way out of Heero's custody when they turned a corner and nearly walked straight into a woman with her back turned and talking to someone outside a shop. She was in the way.

"Excuse us," Heero said tiredly.

The woman turned around and smiled brightly. "Heero! Where have you been?" They had stumbled straight into Relena. "I was just asking this nice gentleman if he knew any available chefs, but no luck yet. Oh, and thank you very much for your time, sir," she said to the man.

"Not at all, m'lady," he answered as he went back inside his shop.

"...m'lady..." the thief whispered to himself. If the cash registers chinging in his head were audible, the force of their collective sound would have demolished the shop entirely.

Relena straightened the pin in her little flowered hat and looked the pair of them over uncomfortably, opting not to comment on their appearance. They looked as though they'd been wrestling down a coal mine. "And who's your friend, Heero? Aren't you going to introduce me?"

_Friend??_ he thought. Of course, she couldn't tell the boy was his prisoner. The way his hand was positioned in the cnter of his back, seizing his braid, they must have looked quite chummy from the front. "I'm just taking this--"

"Excuse me, madam, did I hear you correctly in elucidating your requirement of domestic assistance of the culinary persuasion?" the thief purred. Heero stared at him as if he'd gone insane. What was with the big words all of a sudden?

"Why yes!" Relena cheerily confirmed. "I need a chef for my London estate. Do you know someone?"

"Know someone? Oh, ha ha!" He gave a fake laugh and wrapped his free arm around Heero's shoulders. "Why madam, I happen to be the most giftedly serviceable connoisseur of superior delicacies out of anyone I know. Heero and I were _just_ talking about how I could put my splendidly refined skills to good use and improve our quality of living."

The very idea that this filthy little robber would suggest that they were longstanding friends gave Heero murderous thoughts. He glared at the boy. _First Otto, then you. And I'll stash your bodies in the same place so I don't have to make two trips._

Relena looked at the pie in his hand and clapped her own hands together in excitement. "Oh! Is that one of your own recipes, then?"

"Uh..." the boy fumbled for precisely the right words. "Well, y'see, the _actual_ recipes are a little hard to keep track of, I mean let's face it, there's just _so_ many pies out there. But I _can_ tell you that it's just come out of the oven not ten minutes ago!"

"Oh, I see!" Relena stepped closer, eyeing the pie.

"Miss Relena," Heero said, trying to get her attention. He couldn't let this charade continue.

"Relena! What a beautiful name!" the bandit cooed charmingly. "I'll bet the birds stop singing when they hear it, because they just can't compete!"

The girl blushed and giggled, while the braided boy smirked at Heero. He only glared in return.

"Silly!" she squealed through gloved fingers. "But I still don't know your name."

The boy removed his arm from around Heero and offered a courtly bow, forcing the other to let go of his braid or be seen. "Maxwell, m'lady. Duo Maxwell. I have exquisite taste and I never, ever tell a lie. I'm famous for it."

Heero stiffened. "Miss Relena," he said, more forcefully this time.

"Shush, Heero, manners!" her Ladyship ordered with a disapproving scowl. "Not while I'm negotiating! Now then, Mr. Maxwell, what about this pie of yours?" She leaned in close to smell it.

The boys stared at each other; Heero looked shocked and Duo looked smug. He was doing an even better job of charming his way into Relena's good graces than Heero had.

Relena breathed deeply, sniffing the warm pastry. "Mmm...smells wonderful! What kind is it?"

"...um..." The boys' expressions traded faces; Duo looked shocked and Heero looked smug. They both knew perfectly well that the braided burglar hadn't had the opportunity to check. "Well, it's...uh..."

She looked up hopefully. "May I have a taste?"

Duo's brow furrowed, and he shrugged. "...sure." He struggled with guesses as she removed one white glove and pried up a bit of the crust. "This is...um...well, this _particular_ pie is...uh...peach!"

"Cherry," she corrected after one bite.

"Cherry! I meant to say cherry. Cherry it is. Definitely cherry." Tiny sweatbeads were forming under his bangs. He smirked. "Y'know, it's just been _such_ a hectic day and all..." He looked at Heero, who had his arms folded and wore a look of triumph. Duo wrinkled his nose at him arrogantly.

"This," Relena said softly, enraptured by the morsel she had yet to swallow, "is excellent."

The boys looked at each other blankly, then down at the pie. Neither believed anything from Catherine's window could be described as 'excellent'. They each sampled a bite of their own, and their eyes widened. It _was_ excellent. Probably the first thing Catherine had cooked right in five years, and it was snatched away before she could find out she'd succeeded at last. The irony was painful.

"Well, I don't need any more convincing than that," Relena said firmly. She stepped between them and took Duo's arm, turning her back to Heero. "I think we have one or two things to chat about, don't you?" She smiled at him.

"I think you're right!" he said with a grin.

Relena looked over her shoulder. "Heero, would you fetch Otto out of the shops and have him ready the carriage please?"

Duo reached around the girl's waist and handed the pie to his 'friend' to look after. "Yes, _do_ hurry, Heero, we're losin' daylight!" He shot the dark-haired boy another smug look as he patted the gloved hand on his arm.

Before waiting for a response, they sauntered down the busy street, arm in arm. The dying strains of their conversation melted into the hum of activity around them. "However did you get yourself in such a grungy state? Have you been cleaning out the ovens all morning?"

"One of a multitude of possible explanations, m'lady..."

Heero frowned. The boy claimed that he never told a lie, but he didn't tell the entire truth either. He could feel somehow that this addition to the household, assuming Relena was foolish enough to buy his story and hire him, would only make his mission more complicated. _Wonderful,_ he thought bitterly.

He looked angrily at the pie, then grumbled off to find Otto, mentally kicking himself for not taking the boy straight to the authorities when he'd had the chance instead of staring into his violet eyes like a zombie. He wondered why he couldn't tear his own eyes away, or reveal his treachery in front of Relena. He could have if he'd tried a little harder. This was not like him...not like him at all.

**********  
  


Crouched in a bit of shade, Quatre busied himself with the flower beds around the gazebo, pulling up weeds and filling in the empty spaces with pretty rocks and decorative pieces of slate. He genuinely enjoyed his work, even if he wasn't born into the craft; every now and then, he wondered what he might have been doing by this time if he hadn't left home...never mind leaving so quickly. _No...I don't have time to be homesick._

Wiping his brow, he sat back on his heels to examine his work. It was only the second growing season he'd spent on these flower gardens, but he had quickly turned everyday labour into a fine art to be admired. _If I had stayed, I wouldn't have been able to do this,_ he thought, smiling at the patterns he created with different-coloured petunias.

He heard the back door to the house open, the lower one just off the kitchen, and out popped Bethany, the youngest of the housemaids, clutching someone's hand and leading them out into the garden. Quatre knew who it was even before they opened the door; Trowa emerged right after Bethany and squinted through the afternoon sun, scanning the grounds for Quatre. The gardener stood and waved from the gazebo, and soon they were relaxing on the bench underneth it's wooden canopy.

"I'm glad you found the house alright," Quatre began with a smile.

Trowa nodded. "The directions were easier than they sounded."

"Yes, well," Quatre replied with a grin, "Miss Relena has a tendency to make things more complicated than they need to be. She might be a little overbearing and snobbish in public, but she's really a nice person to work for. I think you'll like it here."

A slight smile graced Trowa's shaded features. "And the others?"

"Others?" Quatre looked over the grounds; there was no one about at the moment except the old carpenter. "Well, that's Arthur over there, he doesn't say much. There's the maids, Doris, Elsie, and you met Bethany already...Otto is the major domo of all Miss Relena's properties, so if something goes really badly wrong, you'll have to answer to him. He's usually in a foul mood, so be careful." Quatre smiled again at the memories of the previous weekend. "And of course, you know Frederick."

Trowa chuckled. "I hope you know, I did _not_ tell him to do that."

"Yeah, I know," Quatre said with a laugh. "He's just resourceful like that...oh, but...actually, there _is_ someone you should watch out for..." His face suddenly turned quite serious. Trowa watched him speak, concerned that such a carefree spirit could be worried about anything. "...our new butler."

Trowa sat back and waited for him to continue, expecting the butler to be an unpleasant stuffed shirt or a cruel taskmaster or something. "His name is Heero Yuy. He's been here almost two weeks, but I could tell as soon as we met...that there's something seriously wrong with him." Quatre wrung his hands; it was getting to be a habit lately. "If you're hiding something, or if you lie to him, he can tell. If you do anything he thinks is suspicious, he'll watch you. I don't even think he's a real butler, myself. He has some secret reason for being here, but don't try to find out anything about it, alright? So long as he does no harm to Miss Relena or the rest of the household, it's none of our business."

Quatre folded his hands in his lap and closed his eyes, his speech finished. He hoped the last part was convincing, because he certainly wasn't staying out of Heero's way to be courteous or to keep to his own business.

They sat in silence until the back door opened again and Bethany reappeared, followed by Relena this time. Relena was followed by a short line of servants, ending with Heero. The group began walking to the gazebo, and the two lads on the bench rose out of deference to Lady Peacecraft's presence. Quatre gave Trowa a nudge and whispered to him. "That's him, the one on the end."

Trowa looked the dark-haired boy over from afar. _He does look a bit unpleasant,_ he thought. "I'll be careful."

Almost the moment he spoke, Heero looked straight at the pair of them. The chill it sent down their spines almost distracted Quatre completely from noticing that there was an extra person in line. In front of Heero sauntered a boy about his own age with bright eyes and a wide grin. He was emanating beautiful cheerfulness as he skipped along, and Quatre was sure they'd be instant chums.

He smiled brightly and nudged Trowa again. "That one in front of Heero...he's new...he seems nice, don't you think?" he asked, forgetting that his friend might not share his sixth sense.

Soon, all the staff except Arthur, who neither was summoned nor attempted to join the group, were assembled on the back lawn, waiting for Relena to make the introductions. "Let's get straight to the point," she said, arranging them all in a circle. "My Uncle Treize is coming here within a few weeks, with a guest, to manage my late father's affairs. It's _extremely_ important to me that we all make a good impression on him. My uncle is very important socially across Europe and even overseas, and if we're 'in' with him, Bridlewood Manor is _set_ for a long time to come. This house will be a _name_ in London, not just a fancy building in a rich neighbourhood."

She strode slowly clockwise around the inside of the circle, giving the servants tasks in the order in which she passed them; apparently they were just supposed to remember each others' names as the instructions were handed out, rather than being formally introduced like civilized people.

"Bethany, I want you to scrub down all the woodwork in the house, then treat it with that oil father brought back from Denmark. Arthur can show you where it is."

Bethany curtsied. "Yes, miss."

"Trowa, glad to see you made it here on time...now, my carriage is in the coachhouse behind the stable. I want every bit of it to shine like it was new, after you've taken care of the horses, naturally. Everything you need should be in there already."

"Yes, m'lady," came the quiet reply.

"Quatre, put the back gardens on hold and focus on the front of the house, the walk, the rose bushes, and the front porch. Wash the front windows and shine all the brasswork, you can manage that, can't you?"

Quatre tried not to let it show that he'd rather stay in the back garden. _There's nowhere to hide at the front of the house! Suppose a cab drove by carrying one of my...no, stop it! This is no time to get paranoid. Miss Relena needs you._ "Of course!" he said in his usual chipper tone.

"Doris, you're good on ladders, you can check all the electrical lighting fixtures and chandeliers, make sure they're clean and working properly. Especially in the guest rooms, we don't use them as often so we have no idea what state of repair they're in. Leave the gas fixtures for last."

Doris, an intelligent older woman with silver-gray hair, nodded in lieu of a curtsey. "Yes, miss."

"Otto, check over the book of accounts and make sure all the figures are up-to-date." The newer members of staff wondered why the biggest, strongest person smong them had the lightest work to do, but nobody said anything.

"Of course, m'lady," Otto replied.

"Now then, Elsie," Relena began. This one had boundless energy, but had to be given plenty of work or she'd start gossiping with the other maids. "Clean all the guest rooms from top to bottom. I know we only have two guests coming, but I want to be able to offer them their choice of rooms. After that, you can tend to the carpets on all three floors, starting with the main floor."

Elsie curtsied. "Yes, m'lady."

Relena stopped in front of Duo and faced him straight on. "I don't suppose I have to outline _your_ duties. Mealtimes are the same here as they are anywhere else, only I'd like to present Uncle Treize with something a bit fancier than traditional fare. I'll leave the choice of menus up to you."

Duo snapped his heels together and saluted. "Neither ran, nor sleet, nor gloom of night shall keep this chef from his appointed kitchen!"

Hiding a giggle, Relena moved on. "Heero, as for you, well..." she said gently, letting her eyes trail over his face lovingly, "...just stay close to me, and you'll be fine." She gave him a knowing smile, and didn't notice that she received nothing in return. Clapping her hands, she addressed the group once more. "Right, you all have your instructions, on about your work!"

The circle dissipated, and they all went to their separate tasks, except Duo, who just stood there, dumbstruck all of a sudden. He spotted Heero on his way back to the house and ran up beside him. "Hey! Uh...could you show me around the kitchen real quick?"

Heero gave a tiny sigh. "Fine." They went down the concrete steps to the kitchen; the stove, the oven, the icebox, and all other kitchen appliances were self-evident and didn't need pointing out. "The food is over there, and the cookbooks are on that shelf there," he said, indicating opposite ends of the large, imposing room.

Duo blinked at the bookcase. "Cookbooks. Book about cooking. Cooking in book format. Okay..." He took a few steps towards the bookcase and stopped, then looked uncomfortably at Heero and took a few more steps until the books were an arm's length away. "Tell you what, why don't you pick out your favourite recipes and just walk me through them one time, huh?"

Heero was getting fiendishly intrigued by the boy's nervousness and how suddenly it had appeared. "No, no, I wouldn't want to interfere with your creative process," he said slyly, folding his arms.

"Right," Duo sneered. He turned back to the bookcase and looked over the selection with worried eyes. Glancing over his shoulder at Heero again, he slowly reached out and plucked a medium-sized blue volume off the shelf. The cook sat down at the huge wooden worktable, as far away from Heero as he could. He opened the book somewhere in the middle and focused on it.

Heero watched the boy's brow furrow over and over. He walked a bit closer, prompting the cook to shrink away as if trying to hide. The butler cleared his throat. "Good book, is it?"

"What? Oh! Yes, fine, just fine...wonderful...magnificent even."

"And what does the book say?"

Duo looked like a startled owl. "...what?" he squeaked.

"About cooking." Heero leaned over the table on both hands. "What...does...it..._say_?"

The cook pasted on a defiant glare. "A lot of things! This and that...you know...stuff! Boy the things it says...what does it say? Ha! What _doesn't_ it say!" Hoping that would shut the other boy up, he stood the open book up on the table and attempted to hide behind it.

Heero squinted at the cover from the other end of the table and read the title: 'Twelve Tales of Love and Romance' by Miss Patience Goodfellow. He smirked. "You can't read, can you?"

Duo slapped the book down angrily. "I'm insulted! After I set aside my vitally important daily routine to grace this house with my effervescent presense, you see fit to ridicule and verbally abuse your honoured guest? Bringing a smear upon my good name? Well I'll tell you something, Mr. Snooty-Puss, if anyone expects me to stay, I oughta be treated a little better than that! I'm not a second-class citizen and I don't deserve these wild accusations!"

"So you can't read?"

"Not as such, no."

Heero shook his head and fell into a chair opposite Duo, who closed the book in defeat and tossed it on the table. "So what book is that, anyway?" Duo asked.

"Something I suspect Elsie kept around to distract her from her cooking, which is why we needed a _proper_ cook in the first place," Heero said with a sigh.

Duo looked around in a state approaching panic. "Well, aren't you going to help me? I mean...damn, I've gotta cook dinner in a hour!" He ran his fingers through his bangs nervously. "You gotta help me out, Heero, or I'll be the one that's cooked! What'll I do!?"

Heero rose from the table and straightened his jacket. "What you're going to do is fail miserably, and then her Ladyship will see you for the fraud you are. See you at dinner." He started for the door.

"Fine! Who needs you!? I've survived this long, and in worse places, I can manage one measly little kitchen just peachy without your help! So get lost!!" He was still shouting after Heero left. _Jerk,_ he thought, _I'll show you I know what I'm doing._ He got up and went to the pantry, examining the contents; once he assessed the condition in which the larder was stocked, an idea sprang to his mind. _I know what I can do...yeah, I've seen her make that a dozen times! No problem..._

Duo started pulling ingredients from the cupboards; if he had to make dinner to keep his bed for the night, he was just going to have to fix something up from memory. He was going to show _all_ of them he deserved to live there.

**********  
  


Relena sailed down the stairs at five minutes to six that evening, wearing a raspberry-coloured dress from her 'casual elegance' collection. Otto met her at the last step and esscorted her to the dining room; as always, he would be her sole dinner companion in place of her father. She was looking forward greatly to having guests to talk to in the coming weeks.

Otto pulled out a chair from the long table for her, while Heero lit the candles. Most of the house had been fitted with new electric lights, including the dining room, but Relena enjoyed the glow of the tiny flames so much more. Heero blew out the flaming taper and retreated to the main floor kitchenette to await the delivery of their dinner.

He stood by the dumbwaiter that led downstairs to the kitchen, wishing he could be present when Duo's gourmet creation was inflicted on her Ladyship. At exactly one minute to six, the ropes in the little wooden chamber set into the wall came to life. Something was on it's way up.

Heero opened the engraved wooden cabinet doors and up popped three plates covered with sterling silver domes, along with delicate little pots of sauces and condiments, bread rolls, and a bottle of Beaujolais. Tied to the handle of one of the silver covers was a scrap of paper. Heero plucked it off and looked at it; there was a drawing of a happy face sticking it's tongue out impishly. Duo couldn't write any better than he could read, but he could get a point across perfectly well. He set that plate aside, assuming it was for him. _Interesting so far..._

The other two meals went on a silver-plated serving cart, with the extra bits and pieces, and the bottle of wine. He wheeled the cart into the dining room and arranged the items in front of Otto and Relena.

"So, Heero, any first impressions on how our new chef is doing?" she asked.

The butler paused. "None that I can easily put into words, m'lady." He left before Otto could say anything, pushing the serving cart back into the little kitchenette and standing by the door. As he heard the silver covers come off their plates, he held his breath and listened intently. Soon the little thief who nearly knocked him over would get his comeuppance.

Relena's voice came drifting through the door. "Otto, what _is_ this?"

"I've no idea, miss. Never seen anything like it."

Heero crept closer to the door when he heard forks and spoons clinking against fine china. "I can't believe this," he heard her say. _Any second now..._ "This is...this is...absolutely wonderful!"

Heero leaned back from the door quickly as if it had just bitten him, and gave it an incredulous look. Then he glared at it. Otto chimed in next. "Quite unusual, but most definitely a masterpiece! You're right, we were lucky to find this chap!"

"See, Otto? You should trust my judgement more often. I can read people too, you know. I can tell who's trustworthy and who isn't."

_The hell you can!_ Heero shouted at her in his mind. Furious that the pair of them had been so utterly duped, he dashed to the table and yanked the cover off his own plate, inspecting the contents. It looked like a fairly ordinary beef stew. Perhaps Duo had sent him something different and completely unpalatable to get back at him for showing him up in the kitchen earlier. Yes, that must be it.

Heero forced himself to taste it, then lowered his fork and frowned. _Shoot. It's fabulous._ He tossed the fork aside. _I just can't win lately._ The butler sat there in defeat for a good ten minutes before giving in and finishing his dinner. Otto had been correct; it _was_ unusual, but worth every bite.

Three crystal dishes arrived in the dumbwaiter just moments before Relena rang to have the dinner plates removed, perfectly timed. Heero took them two bowls of something unidentifiable. In each dish was a small mountain of fresh cut fruit emerging from a pale orange substance that wobbled when shaken. It seemed too thick to be blancmange, and the wrong colour to be aspic.

Dessert was received as happily as dinner had been. The pair in the dining room couldn't say enough good things about the new chef, and it was starting to get on Heero's nerves. He deliberately avoided the kitchens and the chef for the rest of the night. As soon as he finished his duties, he retreated to his room at nearly ten o'clock, hoping not to cross paths with the sneaky lad until he absolutely had to.

He laid down on his narrow bed fully dressed, rubbed his eyes, and wondered how he was going to explain this to Catherine when he next saw her. A light set of footsteps bounded up the servant's stairwell. Heero looked up, slightly puzzled; he thought all the maids had gone to bed already, and there was no one else rooming on this level of the house...unless... _Oh no._

As if on cue, in bounced Duo. "Hiya, roomie! Enjoy your dinner?"

Heero fought hard not to groan out loud. "Fine, thank you."

"Don't mention it. Hey, is all that for me?" Duo chirped, pointing at the double bed across from Heero's twin. The braided boy took a running leap and threw himself on it, bouncing around on the thick mattress like a fish in the bottom of a rowboat. He finally stopped and laid on his back, ecstatic. "Oh wow...this is just too much. It's gotta be a dream, a long beautiful dream. And man, this house has everything! Telephone, electricity, indoor plumbing...and did I see a phonograph in that one room?"

Heero frowned; the house was nice, but it wasn't the royal palace Duo made it out to be. "The manor isn't all _that_ spectacular."

Duo laced his fingers behind his head. "Hey, it beats a packing case in Covent Garden," he said a bit solemnly.

Heero looked over at the boy. He hadn't thought of that, but he should have, else why would he be stealing food? Duo was homeless. "What about your family?"

"Haven't got any," Duo said with a shake of his head. "I carelessly misplaced my parents in Victoria Station when I was five. Been pretty much on my own ever since."

A pang of something unpleasant struck Heero in the chest. He deduced that it was probably guilt over his behaviour towards the boy, and judging him too quickly. "I shouldn't have been so harsh with you earlier. I apologize."

"Hey, I don't need any pity apologies, okay? I can take care of myself just fine, always could," Duo countered. "First thing you learn on the streets is that you can't eat sympathy."

"It's not sympathy," Heero said, "you said you could cook, and apparently you can. I didn't believe you because you couldn't read. I was mistaken."

Duo smiled. "Thanks. I _can_ read a little, you know...I can read numbers a bit, and I can write my name and the words 'American Embassy'. Spent a lot of time there while they looked for my folks."

A question was nagging Heero, and now was as good a time as any. "What exactly was it that we ate?"

That brought a wider smile to the chef's face. "Good old-fashioned gruel, like you find in workhouses and orphanages. 'Course, it turns out a heck of a lot better when you have fresh food to cook with, instead of rotting vegetables and things you find lying dead in the road."

Heero looked at him wide-eyed in shock. "I had no idea things were that bad in the city."

Duo smirked. "Nah, I'm kidding, I really don't know where they found the stuff. Damn well didn't taste like chicken, that's for sure." He really didn't care to stay on this subject. "What did you think of dessert?"

Heero struggled for adjectives that wouldn't encourage conceit. "Unusual."

"Gelatin and orange juice," Duo offered. "A friend of mine taught me how to do that. Throw in some cut fruit, and leave it in the icebox until it sets. I'm lucky there was ice in there at all, I'd've been stuck for ideas if there wasn't!" He rolled over on his side to face Heero and kicked his shoes off onto the floor. "That blond kid is funny, everytime his gelatin wobbled he broke out laughing! It was hilarious! Shame you missed it, but we'll all get to know each other sooner or later. Guess I've gotta come up with breakfast too, and I was thinking..."

Duo kept talking for almost an hour, and it seemed like one long, continuous sentence, switching rapidly from topic to topic until Heero escaped to the bathroom to change clothes. His reward for not telling the chatterbox to shut up was finding him already asleep when he returned. Asleep and snoring softly.

Heero sighed. Having this new person around could threaten his mission if he wasn't careful; on the other hand, he seemed eager to make Heero happy, and could be a potential ally if he was found to be trustworthy. The evidence presented that day hardly supported _that_ theory, but Heero had also seen that the boy knew how to surprise people. Either way, it was up in the air, and a decision for another day.

He draped a blanket over his roommate, blew out the lamp, and climbed into his own bed, to which he still wasn't accustomed. Moonlight was streaming in, weaving itself around drifting clouds and illuminating Duo's cherub-like face. _We'll see,_ Heero thought, gazing at the boy. _We'll see._

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


> _Next, in Episode Five: A European woman on the run from her past lands in a remote village far north of London, where a frightening old man lives in seclusion. What's his connection to London, and why does she fear him instantly? Also, Heero makes some unauthorized modifications to the house, and Trowa worries that his new friend is keeping a dangerous secret._

=^_^= Hiiiiii! Gosh, I've got nothing left to say about this Episode, it just speaks for itself! I dunno what I'm going to put in the notes, probably recipes. =P Meet me back here for Episode Five on Saturday the 16th!


	5. Just A Note

Alright, I made my first boo-boo as far as the dates are concerned. I'll tell you all about it in the notes for this Episode, but suffice it to say, due to a clerical error, you're getting this a day early. *grin* Better than a day late, right? =^_~= So, it's going to say June 17th because...well, just because. Visit my website for details of my supreme idiocy.

Disclaimer #1: I had three dozen of those damn "Roll Up the Rim to Win" cups from Tim Hortons over the last two months, and not ONE of them said "You win ultimate control over Gundam Wing and all the characters therein." I did, however, win two coffees, a bagel, a couple of donuts, and a cookie. I don't have them anymore *burp* so you can't sue me for them. =P

Disclaimer #2: I was an English major, so when I write, I write wordy. You have been warned. Muahahahahaaaa....  
**Suggested font: Times New Roman**  
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Episode Four: Just A Note

> _"You never get a second chance to make a first impression, unless someone likes your second impression more than the first." ~Anonymous_

June 17th, 1901

Somewhere far north of London was the sleepy village of Cloverderry Glen in the valley of Innisdale; somewhere in that sleepy village was a tiny building with stone walls and a thatched roof, in which resided the post office and general store. It was normally run by Mrs. Mavis Trimble, a jolly, pudgy woman approaching the age of fifty, but she was beginning to find the work too much for her.

She opened the shop on the morning of the 17th and patiently waited for the villagers to trickle in a few at a time, to fill their needs after the weekend. As she was sorting the morning mail, her equally pudgy husband, Wilfred Trimble, poked his head in the door with good news. He spoke in a deep drawl typical to the area, an accent associated with men of the soil.

"Mavis! 'Ere, I've brung you someone to help with the shop!" he announced. The portly farmer waddled in and hoisted up his sagging trousers by the belt.

"Help with the shop?" Mavis queried. "But I thought there weren't nobody willin' in the village, they've all got other commitments!"

Wilfred took off his floppy sun hat and beat the dust out of it. "T'isn't somebody from the village, t'is some new lass come from the Continent. She's 'ere by 'erself and needs the work, so I thought--"

"Is she pretty?" Mavis asked with a note of playful suspicion.

Wilfred grinned. "She ain't no sow headed for market, that's for sure!"

Mavis shook her head and clucked her tongue. "Oh, dry up, you old goat. Show the lass in and let's have a look at her."

"Ar," he agreed, and toddled off to fetch the young lady. A moment later he returned with a slim, statuesque woman in tow, wearing a two-piece travelling dress with a tweed coat and cotton skirt in similar shades of gray. She carried a handbag and a single suitcase, which she set down on the floor of the shop as soon as she entered. The hat she wore was a simple style, decorated with artificial cherries that warmed the cool, dark tone of her hair. There was something odd about that hair, Mavis thought; it was short at the back, but long in the front, and it partly covered the woman's eyes.

"Well, aren't you a pretty thing," Mavis cooed in a motherly fashion. "And what's your name, dear?"

The dark-haired woman started to say her name as a reflex, then stopped herself quickly, looking a bit nervous. Finally, she extended a gloved hand. "Lucille. Please call me Lucille."

Mavis took her hand and patted it, smiling. "Pretty name for a pretty lass. My Wilfred tells me you need a bit o' work, is that right?"

Lucille nodded. "Yes, ma'am, I'm alone in your country, for the moment, and I could use a job so I can find someplace to stay."

"You've got nowheres to lay yer 'ead at night? Oh, what a pity...'ere, 'ang on...t'ain't no reason why you couldn't 'ave our spare room in the cottage! We could 'ave you as a lodger...couldn't we, Wilfred?"

Wilfred nodded thoughtfully. "Ar."

"And we can let you help out around the 'ouse to earn your keep, couldn't we, Wilfred?"

"Ar," he repeated.

Lucille blushed. "Oh, no, I couldn't impose on you like that, I really should just go find a boarding house or a hostel--"

"No no no no, my dear, I won't _hear_ of it. Wilfred, take that suitcase back 'ome and tidy up the spare room a bit...and you, my dear, you come with me and I'll show you 'round the shop!" The bubbly woman hustled Wilfred out the door with Lucille's suitcase, then took the girl behind the counter and began showing her the basics of running the post office.

Lucille took off her hat and gloves, and set them under the counter with her handbag, smiling graciously. She had come to England with practically nothing, bounding from town to town as she sought little more than a place to hide, and suddenly she had a job _and_ a home! What luck!

Wilfred poked his head back in the door suddenly. He was still carrying the suitcase, and he whispered frantically and urgently across the room to Mavis. "Look sharp, you! T'is Lord Jeffrhyss comin' up the road!" Wilfred disappeared as quickly as he came.

Mavis looked flustered. "Oh bother. Lord Jeffrhyss, and on your first day, too." She trotted quickly to the basket of half-sorted mail and started flipping through the letters. "Must be 'ere somewheres..."

Puzzled, Lucille leaned over the woman's shoulder. "Who's Lord Jeffries?"

The woman didn't answer until she found what she knew had to be there. She plucked a letter out of the basket and handed it to Lucille. "_That's_ Lord Jeffrhyss. Lives down the road aways, in the old farmhouse by the mill wheel. Make no mistake, he's a strange one...never sets foot in the village unless it's to pick up a letter or drop one off." Mavis drew air in through her teeth in short sips. "Funny thing is...his Lordship always knows when there's a letter come for 'im, without being told. That one only came this mornin', and 'ere he is!"

Lucille's eyes widened at the mystery; this man _did_ sound strange. She read the envelope in her hand carefully; it was postmarked in London. The name Jeffries was spelled 'J-e-f-f-r-h-y-s-s', and Lucille was quite sure she'd never seen it written that way before; even the man's name didn't look normal. Or natural.

"He's nought to be afraid of, mind you," Mavis continued, "he don't chat much, just picks up his post and leaves, that's all."

The door opened and Lucille bristled, but it was only an old woman from the village. She and Mavis appeared to be close friends, as they immediately went off in a corner to gossip, leaving Lucille to fend for herself. The door opened a second time and the young woman gasped. There was much more Mavis could have told her about Lord Jeffrhyss.

A man with long gray hair and a tidy moustache slowly entered the shop. One of his arms was missing at the elbow, replaced with a wooden appendage and an iron hook. Both of his legs ended at the knees where his trouser legs were knotted to keep from flapping about, and he walked on two wooden peglegs like an impoverished pirate. His one good arm held a heavy cane which he used to steady himself, and he wore a long black coat that came an inch away from draping on the ground, hiding most of his body. His eyes were obscured by small, round, dark spectacles.

Lord Jeffrhyss looked at Mavis, who was occupied with her chat, then looked at Lucille standing behind the counter. She couldn't see his eyes, but nevertheless felt impaled on their cold gaze. He began plodding towards her in a dignified manner, and she suddenly wanted to bolt from the shop and never return; his very presence made her skin crawl.

Finally, he reached the counter and waited, leaning his cane against a display of custard powder tins. Lucille stood frozen for a few moments before remembering what it was he wanted. She looked at the letter in her hands and held it out with trepidation.

Jeffrhyss took the letter and put it in his coat pocket. "You're new," he commented. His voice was gutteral and without any hint of local accent.

Lucille swallowed. "Yes, your Lordship."

The old man seemed to smirk. "Warned you about me, did they?"

"_Told_ me, your Lordship, else how could I have know what letter to give you?" She knew instantly that she shouldn't have challenged him, but it was too late.

His mouth twitched and he took hold of his cane. For a moment, Lucille feared he would strike her with it. "You have a secret," he said simply. When the young woman gaped and provided no response, he continued. "Everyone who looks at me that way has a secret. I shall have to decide whether yours will be of any use to me."

With that cryptic remark, he turned and plodded slowly back out of the shop, leaving a stunned Lucille gripping the edge of the counter in an effort to stay standing. Her head was swimming with an eerie fright. _What could he find out about me? What might he already know? It's no good, I can't stay here, not with people like that snooping around, can't risk anyone finding out--_

"Has he gone already?" Mavis sang cheerily. The other woman she'd been gossiping with was picking through the selection of tea bags, so Mavis had come back to the counter.

Lucille shook herself to attention. "Yes, he...he took his letter and left, just like you said."

"Oh, I _am_ glad he dinnit give you no trouble, he's just an odd sorta fellow, is all. After dealin' with 'im, I'm sure you'll be able to handle this job without any trouble at all. I must say, it'll be lovely to 'ave someone 'elping me, the old back's been playing up summat awful and I just can't look after this place the way I used to. T'is lovely there being a nice young lass such as yerself about the place." The woman smiled and patted the girl's arm. "Now, step this way and I'll show you the till..."

As she demonstrated various shop procedures, the good-natured Lucille suddenly felt guilty about wanting to run away again. _Poor Mrs. Trimble...she seems to be depending on me already, and I've had so few chances to make a friend in England...I can't possibly leave now._

She bowed her head and thought about how her faraway love would react to her running from her problems, old and new. _He wouldn't like it one bit, he'd tell me to stay and fight. Easy for him to say..._ Her secret love, the reson she was forced to run, would never have backed down the way she had; he was fighting bravely on the battlefields of South Africa, and he would surely think her a coward for leaving a good job and a warm bed and plenty of food because of a scary old man with a cane.

Lucille lifted her head at last. _I'll stay, to earn your respect, my love._ At least, until someone in this sleepy village discovered who she was and why she was there, then a new decision would have to be made.

**********  
  


The heat of the midday sun forced Trowa and Quatre to seek refuge in the kitchen, and Duo was happy to provide them with tea and biscuits in exchange for some lively conversation. Relieved to be indoors, they sat around the heavy kitchen table and chatted aimlessly.

Duo propped a thin cookbook against a bag of flour and stirred a bowl of biscuit dough while they talked. Once again, Quatre had been assigned the task of finding suitable attire for the new indoor staff member, and the previous Thursday saw them buying stacks of chef's uniforms, crisp white suits with two rows of black buttons down the front.

On the same shopping trip, Quatre learned that Duo was unable to read, and hunted down several children's books about cookery that featured colourful illustrations alongside each recipe's instructions. Duo also insisted on a floppy white chef's hat, 'the kind all the really fashionable French chefs' wore. He absentmindedly played with the brim as he tossed some sultana raisins into the dough.

"Aw, c'mon guys, he's really not _that_ bad..." the chef pleaded.

Quatre took a sip of tea. "Doesn't he make you the least bit nervous?"

"Well, kinda," Duo said with a shrug, "but he hasn't done anything wrong."

"You feel safe around him?" Trowa added.

Duo stopped stirring the dough and thought about that. "Okay, he _did_ actually throw a pillow at me because he _claimed_ I was snoring...and he smacked me a couple times for bugging him while he was trying to read the newspaper...and he's constantly telling me to shut up..."

"There, see?" Quatre said triumphantly. "He hits you because he's mean. He's mean because he's edgy. He's edgy because he's hiding something, right?"

Duo sighed. "Yeah, whatever, I guess."

Quatre set his tea down and pointed a terse finger at Duo. "All the more reason for you to stay away from him. Whatever he's into on the side could be terribly dangerous, and I wouldn't want to see you get hurt, alright?"

"How am I gonna stay away from him when we sleep in the same room? It's not like I've got anywhere else to go, unless I wanna sleep in the bathtub!"

The debate was interrupted by a bell ringing on the board in the next room, followed by footsteps heading downstairs. The object of their discussion was approaching. "Just don't push him too far right now, that's all," Quatre whispered.

A tired and haggard Heero tramped quickly down the stairs, walked briskly past the others around the table without acknowledging them, and went straight into the bell room. He stared at the ringing bell and the label above it. "Third floor," he growled, exasperated. "I was just ON the third floor!!"

The others froze in their spots, afraid to make the slightest move, as he stormed past them again and charged up the stairs, furious. Nobody made a sound until he was well and truly gone.

Duo dipped a finger in the bowl of sugary goo and licked it clean. "Y'know, there could be another reason why he's so edgy," he said with sarcasm, smacking his lips. "If you ask me, he's got the toughest job out of all of us. We all know damn well Otto doesn't lift a finger."

Trowa looked down at his tea. "I've heard Miss Relena yelling out the window for him if he doesn't show up quick enough. If he isn't there as soon as she calls him, she thinks he's out wasting time in the garden."

"She won't let anyone else but him make tea for her, either," Quatre added, "and she expects him to follow her around while she's making inspections of the house. I'm surprised Frederick isn't jealous."

Duo measured out some baking soda according to the illustrations and dumped it casually into the batter. "Makes you wonder why a guy so independant and so angry at the whole world lets himself be led around by the nose by 'Miss Junior Queen', 1901." He shrugged again; so did the other two.

Several minutes passed, and footsteps were heard on the stairs again, only much slower this time. Already glaring at nothing, Heero walked past the trio into the bell room and leaned against the wall opposite the board with his arms folded across his chest. He had discarded his jacket and was now only in his shirt and waistcoat, and duty trousers, wilting from the summer heat and the sprints up and down the stairs.

Trowa and Quatre stayed put and ignored the glowering butler, but Duo couldn't help but poke his head into the tiny bell room. Heero was glaring fiercely at the board full of bells. Duo leaned against the doorframe, licking batter off a mixing spoon. "Hey, Heero! Trying to move them using the power of your mind?" He smirked.

"Duo."

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

Duo stepped back into the kitchen and pointed violently at the bell room, mouthing the words 'See? See?' The other two boys grinned and ducked their heads a little. Not a sound was heard for a long time, during which Duo finished his tea biscuit batter and popped his latest experiment into the oven. Trowa and Quatre finished their tea and were about to head back outside when Duo silently motioned them to stay.

Heero had stepped away from the wall and was standing a scant few inches away from the bells. After a long silence, he put his hands on his hips and shook his head. "This has got to go." The trio looked at each other and shrugged again. The chef decided to be brave and walked back to the doorframe.

"Duo..."

"I didn't say anything!"

"No..." Heero said, wincing, "you're very familiar with this city, correct?"

Duo appreciated him not over-emphasizing the reason why. "Yeah, sure! You know what they used to say about me? 'If Maxwell can't find it, it won't be worth looking for!'"

Heero finally stepped out of the bell room. "Then you'll know where I can find shops that sell musical instruments?"

The braided chef paused to think, but before he could answer, Quatre piped up excitedly. "There's a _huge_ music store on Winchester Street, they've got everything! And Mr. Crenshaw there is so nice, if there's anything you don't see, he can order it for you, and they have the most wonderful...practice room...for, um..." Quatre reddened under the force of three pairs of eyes staring at him. Gardeners weren't supposed to know about music stores.

He muttered something to the effect of having heard about the store from a past guest at the manor, and excused himself to scamper back to the front garden, blushing. Trowa gazed after him with worry, but the other two kept right on talking.

"Pretty much anything you can't find anywhere else shows up in the Portobello Road eventually," Duo suggested.

Heero nodded and took Duo's arm, pulling him towards the stairs. "Come on."

"Wait a minute, right now? I've got stuff baking! I can't leave!"

"I have less than two hours before I'm officially needed again, and I want this done today," Heero snapped, dragging the chef along.

Duo looked helplessly at the cinnamon-haired stable boy. "Trowa! I'm counting on you, man!" he yelled as he was hauled up the stairs. "When the little hand's on two and the big hand's on four, take the biscuits out of the oven!!"

Trowa smiled and shook his head as they left. _We'll have to draw straws to see who gets to teach Duo how to tell time._

As soon as they were outside, Heero flagged down a hansom cab and they were taken to the music store on Winchester Street. Just as Quatre said, it was a huge shop, and Mr. Crenshaw was more than helpful. Heero asked him for something that nearly made Duo's eyebrows fly off his face; he asked for bells.

Mr. Crenshaw produced a large range of chimes and handbells from the storeroom, and allowed Heero to tap them all and listen to the sounds they produced. After a half-hour's deliberation, he purchased nearly 30 bells, all different sizes; Duo almost passed out when his companion pulled a thick wad of pound notes out of his pocket and handed over more than two weeks salary as if it were nothing.

They visited two more music shops and collected even more bells before reaching the Portobello Road market. There, after a lengthy search, Heero came across an old sailor flogging bells scavenged off small ships that had outlived their seaworthy years. He bought man's entire inventory, again handing over a substantial amount of money without any regard at all.

Lastly, they came upon a stall where a small girl was trying unsuccessfully to shift a load of broken toys at scrap prices. One piece in particular caught Duo's eye, a little platform painted with holly for Christmas, on which were mounted eight brightly-coloured birds with flexible legs. He picked it up gingerly and admired it.

"What's this?" he asked the girl.

"They're watchbirds, sir," said the tiny eight-year-old voice, "from Germany. They fly about the house before Christmas to see if the children are being good, then on Christmas morning they fly to the tree to watch them open their presents."

"No kidding!" Duo chirped, smiling. He noticed that in front of each bird was a tiny silver bell, and that when you pushed a bird's tail down, it sprang forward and struck the bell with it's beak. The sound caught Heero's ear, and he came closer to inspect the toy with interest.

"These watchbirds are _special_, sir, they don't usually have bells and all that. These ones sit on that perch when they're not on the tree, and you can play a tune with them!" The girl looked a bit sad. "Only they don't move by themselves no more...something's broken."

Heero noticed how Duo couldn't take his eyes off the colourful birds, and how he stroked their tiny beaks and wings as if they were real. He blanked out for a few moments, aware of nothing else but the boy's violet eyes shining as brightly as the artificial plumage, and his pale, thin fingers travelling along the eight tiny silhouettes. Heero squinted and shook his head, wondering if he'd been out in the sun too long.

He took a good look at the bells attached to the toy that fascinated his companion so. They weren't exactly what he was looking for, but they were close enough, and he decided to purchase the toy. Seeing how thin and poorly the girl looked, and remembering how twig-like Duo's arm had felt in his grasp days earlier, Heero gave her three times what she was asking for the musical watchbirds...a small sacrifice for the two big smiles he was given in return.

They carted their treasures back to the manor just before tea time; Heero stashed the bells in the tiny room off the kitchen and served tea on schedule, letting the other boys puzzle over what he was up to. Before dinner and for a long time after dinner, he secluded himself in the bell room with hammers and nails and bits of wire, and several metal brackets designed for hanging potted plants off the side of a building.

Hours of banging and clanging later, the suspense was too much. Duo, Trowa and Quatre stood at the entrance to the bell room and watched Heero finish his work. He had removed all the bells that had been on the board and replaced them with those he had purchased that day. Starting in the bottom left-hand corner was the largest, and they decreased in size across the row, and again up the next two rows, finishing with the smallest bell in the top right-hand corner.

Quatre picked one of the old bells up off the floor and look at it worriedly. "Heero, did Otto say you could do this?"

"No," he answered simply. He picked up the hammer and drove a few extra nails through the board and into the wall to support the extra weight.

"Oh man, he's gonna have kittens when he sees _this_," Duo said, standing behind Heero and looking over his shoulder. "What was wrong with the old bells, anyway?"

Heero began rearranging the room labels above the bells so that the rooms were listed roughly clockwise from the west stairs, which were closest to the kitchen. "They all sounded the same."

Quatre smiled with instant understanding as Heero tapped each bell in turn, while reading it's label, recording the sound and associating it with it's newly-assigned room. The bells were all exactly a semitone apart and all distinctly different.

When the modifications were complete, he swept past the boys into the kitchen, sat down in a chair facing away from the bell room, and slowly stretched the kinks out of his arms. Within a few minutes of finishing, a bell sounded from somewhere in the house. The tone was light and airy, somewhere around high E flat.

Heero rose from his chair and straightened his waistcoat. "If you'll excuse me, I'm wanted in the second floor library." He disappeared quite calmly up the stairs.

The boys looked at each other, speechless. Trowa stepped into the bell room and read the label above the bell that rang, still moving slightly on it's hook. "Second floor library..." he said with awe.

Eventually that night, the housemaids trickled down to see what Heero had done, and he patiently let them tap bells at random while he called out the names of the rooms they belonged to. Low G natural, front parlour. High F sharp, master bedroom. Middle C, conservatory. The sounds could even be heard from the top of the west stairs. Everyone, even Elsie, had to admit that Heero was much more clever than they had initially given him credit for.

As the sun set on the butler in his kitchen chair, and on the other servants ringing bells for fun, Otto crept down the west stairs and stood on the very last step. No one could see him but Heero; he listened to the goings-on and glared as the dark-haired boy looked him defiantly and triumphantly in the face, with the tiniest hint of a smug little grin.

The tortuous farce Otto had played out while Relena was in Bournemouth was not to be repeated.

**********  
  


Duo turned down the covers on his bed, brushed out his hair and re-braided it, all before Heero came back from changing clothes. They wore nearly identical long-sleeved pajamas, evidence that the same fair-haired boy had picked out most of their clothes for them. Duo's were solid black with white buttons down the front; Heero's were similar except the top was a pullover style in a deep forest green.

Before sitting down on his own bed, Heero handed Duo a bundle of something wrapped up in his handkerchief. "You can have these," he said.

Duo looked up with those big, bright eyes and smiled. "A surprise? For me?" He loved surprises. Duo carefully unwrapped the bundle and found eight little painted birds inside. Heero watched in mild amusement as the braided boy's face glowed with joy. "Whoa...seriously? I can keep these?"

Heero shrugged. "I only needed the bells they came with, and you seemed to like them..."

"Hey, thanks, pal!" Duo propped one of the birds on his finger and whistled at it, pretending it would chirp back every time it bounced back and forth on it's springy legs. He sighed happily. "Thank you, Heero, I mean that. This is great." _I don't care what the others think of you...you're not dangerous, you can't possibly be._

Heero grunted in a noncommittal way and climbed into bed. _Simple minds, simple pleasures,_ he thought. He watched the other boy play with his new toys for quite awhile before letting them perch on the bedside table for the night. Somehow, the noise didn't bother him...too much.

Elsewhere in the house, Trowa was plagued by a restless sleep from which he woke over and over for no reason. A few minutes asleep, a few minutes awake, soon stretched into a few hours, and he began to worry the whole night would be like this.

He propped himself up on his elbows and looked around the room and its bleak concrete walls. The basement chamber he shared with the gardener was dark, dingy and quite dull to look at, but nothing seemed out of place, and there were no noises that could have kept him awake. He looked across the room at Quatre's bunk; the smallish lump under the covers was motionless, and appeared to be soundly asleep.

Thinking something over, Trowa ran a hand through his bangs and crept out of bed; he padded across the cold stone floor and leaned over the smallish lump. _Maybe it is just me...it doesn't seem to have woken him up._ The lump was very still...almost too still; Trowa watched it for awhile and started to worry. The lump wasn't breathing.

"Quatre?" he whispered. The lump gave no response. Trowa reached out and grabbed the lump between it's shoulder and neck. "Quatre!" Finally he yanked the covers off and blinked in surprise--Quatre was gone and two squishy pillows had been left in his place.

Trowa was immediately relieved that his friend hadn't stopped breathing in the middle of the night, but relief was soon replaced by worry as he wondered where the gardener could have gone at such a late hour. He tossed on a pair of shoes and slipped out into the back yard to look for him.

By the time he reached the gazebo, Trowa could hear a faint, lilting sound drifting to his ears on the night breeze. It grew steadily louder as he moved closer to the back wall, centered between the stables and the potting shed. He squinted with confusion; there was music coming from behind the huge oak tree marking the center of the back wall, a haunting melody filled with such longing and sadness that it brought tears to his emerald eyes.

He ducked behind a nearby tree and cleared his mind of all stray thoughts and feelings, not wanting to trigger the sixth sense he found so charming about the blond boy. Sure enough, there was Quatre, standing behind the massive oak that completely hid him from the view of the manor. His eyes were shut against the glow of the moon, and his pale hand guided a bow across the strings of a mournful violin.

The song went on for the longest time, crying out hopelessly from the depths of the boy's soul. When his arms could no longer bear the weight of the instrument, Quatre slumped to the ground, leaning against the tree's gnarled, rough roots. He rested his arms on his knees and brushed fresh tears away from his pale face, offering a plaintive sigh to the moon and stars, his audience.

"Be well, father."

Trowa suddenly felt guilty for silently intruding on his friend's most private moment, and decided it would be best if he didn't stay. Quatre remained in his spot, looking up at the night sky and lost in his reverie until the tiny snap of a twig made him look around, startled.

He set the violin down on the grass and peeked out from behind the tree, still wiping his tear-stained face with his sleeve. There was no one at all to be seen. The backyard was completely empty.

_I mustn't give in to my imagination,_ he thought. With that he sat back down against the tree trunk and wrapped his arms tightly around himself, praying the night would be over soon.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


> _Next, in Episode Six: Duo thinks he can fill one more job at Bridlewood with one of his friends from the street, but only if he can find her! Relena takes Heero to see the Royal Ascot races, where he begins to ply her for information about her Uncle...what could make him so interested in a man he's never met?_

Awww...what a sweet thought for Father's Day, ne? Argh! I'm, like, three hours later than usual, gomen! But hey, lots of new things happening. Who wants to guess the identity of Lord Jeffrhyss and "Lucille", and even her secret love fighting in Africa? Saaaa, you're smart peeps, you can figure it out! =^_~= It won't be the last time we see them. And there WILL be some highly musical people wondering how I could fit the bells on the board, yes I know it's next to impossible but HEY! this is fiction, people. =P It's magic. And yes, I've been dragging out this Quatre-has-a-secret thing for a long time, don't worry, there's a point to this and I'm getting there, okey-smokey? =^_^= *whips out calendar* I'll need a few extra days on the next ep, let's say....um....June 21st. Right? right. Baibai!


	6. Powers of Persuasion

Okay, the last Episode was dripping with sap so much, it left syrup stains on my keyboard. Time to slowly start adding some danger, a pinch at a time. =^_~= muahahaha....oh, by the way, there will be a little longer gap between this episode and the next, to give me time to slip in an unrelated ficcie.

Disclaimer #1: I had three dozen of those damn "Roll Up the Rim to Win" cups from Tim Hortons over the last two months, and not ONE of them said "You win ultimate control over Gundam Wing and all the characters therein." I did, however, win two coffees, a bagel, a couple of donuts, and a cookie. I don't have them anymore *burp* so you can't sue me for them. =P

Disclaimer #2: I was an English major, so when I write, I write wordy. You have been warned. Muahahahahaaaa....  
**Suggested font: Times New Roman**  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Six: Powers of Persuasion

> _"Our sense of power is more vivid when we break a man's spirit than when we win his heart." ~Eric Hoffer_

June 21st, 1901

Relena listened patiently to Heero's status report over her morning tea. The house was coming along nicely, and the staff were getting along fairly well together. All in all, he painted a highly efficient picture, partly by leaving out a few details that he decided she didn't need to know just yet. The manor would soon be in excellent shape for the Count's arrival. "However," the butler added curtly, "once the guests are actually here, I forsee one or two problems arising."

She sighed, knowing it sounded too good to be true. "What sort of problems?"

Heero topped up her cup of tea and set the teapot down delicately. "The housemaids have been complaining to me about their workload. Apparently they feel there should be one more of them at least, otherwise they say they won't be able to keep up once the guests arrive."

Relena nodded. "Opinion?"

"Even operating at maximum efficiency, there is still a significant portion of their work left unfinished at the end of the day. Doris told me that even if they had a laundry maid helping them, it would drastically improve their productivity." Heero's voice was cold and unwavering throughout his speech.

Relena buttered a raisin scone and nodded again. "You said one or two problems. What's the other one?" she asked, taking a tiny, dignified bite.

Heero hesitated, thinking of the best way to approach the subject. "Duo may also require assistance in the kitchen. He's been managing well enough up to this point, but--"

"But once the guests arrive, yes, I know. The workload increases, the amount of effort he puts into the meals increases, and the number of hours in a day stays the same." She took a sip of tea and mulled over the situation. "So, it comes down to needing a laundry maid _and_ a scullery maid...if we're lucky, maybe we can find someone to do both."

A quiet cough and a faint knock at the conservatory door drew her attention away from Heero. Standing out in the hall was Duo, in his crisp white chef's uniform, with his hat in one hand and a piece of paper in the other."'Scuse me, Miss, but I, uh...wanted to go over some suggestions for the menu, for when the Count arrives," he said weakly. The chef wasn't his usual bubbly self for some reason.

"Oh yes, of course, do come in," Relena granted. Duo walked up to her and held out the paper, casting a nervous glance in Heero's direction from time to time. Relena took the page and looked it over, then grew puzzled. "Your handwriting is an awful lot like Quatre's, isn't it?"

Heero looked over her shoulder at the writing and fought back a smile; telling Relena her chef was illiterate would technically be the right thing to do, but he found it amusing to watch the chef squirm, and he wasn't sure why. "It _is_ Quatre's, m'lady." Duo gave him a frightened look, pleading with him not to reveal his secret. "Duo was in the middle of cooking something and didn't want to spill anything on the list, so he had Quatre write it out for him."

Duo gave him a grateful smile; his principles wouldn't allow him to lie to Relena, even to save his job, so Heero lied for him. He quickly changed the subject so she wouldn't have time to think about what was just said. "Did I hear your Ladyship say you needed another maid?"

"Yes, I did. Why?"

The chef swallowed and fiddled with the floppy hat in his hands. "Well, I know this girl...she's a really hard worker, and not fussy about what kind of work she does. If I could get her here...would your Ladyship be willing to give her a chance at the job?"

Relena thought for a moment. "Very well, tell her to come tomorrow for an interview, but I'm not making any promises."

"Uh...well, the thing of it is," Duo stumbled, "I'm not sure if she can make it tomorrow. Y'see, she moves around a lot, and, um...I'd kinda hafta _find_ her first."

Heero frowned; he knew what that meant. The girl Duo spoke of must be just as homeless as he himself had been until recently, and while the arrangement with the chef had worked out so far, Heero wasn't keen on the idea of giving a job to absolutely anyone off the street just because they were friends with a member of the staff. He didn't like the turn this conversation was taking.

Relena looked exasperated. "You have to _find_ her first?" She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Duo, but I can't hold the position open indefinitely. We shall advertise the post properly and interview the applicants, and if we hire someone else while you're looking for her, that's her own hard luck."

Duo's eyes lit up regardless. "But if I find her, you'll talk to her?"

"Well...alright, yes, I'll--"

"Great!" he hollered. "Gotta go!" He sped out the door leaving a little puff of dust hanging over the carpet where he stood. Heero shook his head slightly and Relena simply stared.

Setting aside the rather odd exchange, Lady Peacecraft dismissed her servant and continued with her breakfast. Heero made a perfectly-timed hike to the front door and arrived at the exact same second as the postman; the poor fellow didn't even have time to ring the bell before the door opened and the stack of letters was snatched out of his hands. The whole process took about six seconds and was becoming a fine art.

Heero distributed the morning mail and, as happened occasionally, there was one letter left over, posted from a village north of London. It was marked 'urgent' on the envelope; that wasn't normally the case. Heero took his letter to a remote corner of the main floor and opened it quickly, absorbing the contents while looking over his shoulder. Treize was ready to leave Warsaw any day now, as reported by contacts in eastern Europe, and it was an 'essential task' that Heero learn all he could about the Count from his niece or any other source prior to his arrival. _In other words, quit wasting time serving tea and dusting knick-knacks and get some real work done._ He nearly tore up the letter in anger, despite the fact that he'd be burning it later anyway for security reasons. _Don't trust me enough to complete even the simplest tasks, do you?_

Miffed but outwardly calm, he stalked back up to the conservatory to see if Relena was finished eating. The two of them were going out today...alone. There would be plenty of opportunities to learn all he needed to know.

**********  
  


This, Relena hoped, would be only the first of many outings she and Heero would enjoy alone together. 'Alone' was a technical term that didn't include Trowa and the two horses pulling the carriage, but that was beside the point. They were going to Berkshire together, to the Royal Ascot races, which was a must-attend for all members of the upper social circles.

The girl chattered incessantly the entire trip; Heero stared out the window most of the time, turning his head and nodding occasionally to give the illusion that he was actually listening to her prattle. True to her roots, she had been raised as a socialite, and had very little of substance to say.

"Oh, look at those hats! Aren't some of them fanciful! Do you think mine is too much? I thought of wearing my straw hat with the flowers and the ribbon hanging down the back, but I didn't think the brim would be wide enough in this sun...oh, see that pink dress over there? I have one almost identical to it! Good thing I didn't wear _that_, can you imagine the embarassment? Us showing up in the same dress, what would people think? Oh, look at that blue hat over there! Isn't it lovely?" It probably wasn't her fault that she turned out so vapid, but she made no effort to improve herself intellectually, either. Heero found that to be a great pity.

Their carriage was making it's way past the fairgrounds, just a short walk from the racetrack. The races would begin at 2pm, leaving them plenty of time to sample the delicacies that were offered for lunch. All around were ladies in formal dresses and magnificent hats, and gentlemen in their finest suits and top hats. Track officials were milling about in bowler hats and business suits, and bookies with leather bags hanging off their shoulders were quietly taking bets from the spectators.

"Let's have a bite to eat, shall we?" Relena suggested, pulling her companion towards one of the picnic areas. He offered neither input nor protest as she picked out a socially enviable table between the Duke of Lancaster and the Minister of Foreign Affairs. The races themselves were apparently secondary in importance to being seen around the right people.

Relena started in on the tea and sandwiches, causing her to stop talking long enough to realize that Heero had hardly said a word since leaving the manor. "Is anything the matter? You're awfully quiet today."

Heero lounged back in his chair, enjoying the snooty, disapproving looks he got from the other guests. Not wearing a hat was one thing, acting casual was downright insulting! He smirked inwardly. "I'm always quiet, aren't I?"

Relena shrugged. "I would think you might at least _try_ to make conversation, today of all days. It's not a time to be sulky, it's a time to socialize! Make an effort for once!"

"Very well." Enough pussyfooting around; time to turn on the prefabricated Yuy charm. He beckoned over one of the waiters in white coats and black bow ties and asked for a bottle of champagne. Relena looked up in surprise and nearly gasped at what she saw in the eyes that used to frighten her so. Heero gave her a smoldering look that no ordinary servant would dare bestow upon his fair, delicate employer...a look that promised all the dangerous pleasures forbidden to young ladies of her station. His voice changed from frosty and calculating to warm and smoky in a heartbeat.

"Tell me about your uncle," he said.

It took Relena a moment to drag herself out of her fantasy and answer him. "Uncle Treize? Well, he's _fabulously_ wealthy, one of the richest men in Europe! He owns four castles, two in Germany, one in Poland, one in...well, I forget where the last one is, but I hear they're all exquisite!" She seemed to raise her voice a little, as if hoping to impress the people at adjacent tables.

"You've never visited?" The champagne arrived and he filled both their glasses, hers a little higher than his.

"Well, no" she said, taking her glass. "Uncle Treize is actually my father's half-brother, and we never saw that side of the family. Father was the elder of the two anyway, so we didn't worry ourselves with our comparitive social condition. Being the eldest made Father the rightful heir to the Peacecraft legacy, so having a half-brother never made him feel threatened. Grandmama simply remarried a German nobleman after Grandfather died, and that was that. It was hardly even spoken of."

"What a shame you never had a chance to meet him..." Heero waited for her to take the first sip of the bubbly liquid before sampling his own. "Still, I'm sure he wouldn't have been lonely...plenty of friends and relatives in Europe, right?"

"Oh, but yes! Uncle Treize has never been short of a few friends!" She took another sip, feeling more liberated by the minute. "Even though our side of the family never saw his, he and father often wrote to each other, and my uncle would tell us all about his exciting social gatherings and the people there...father would read his letters to me, by the fire..." She trailed off into a cloud of happy memories, of sitting by the fireside while her father narrated the fanciful tales spun by her uncle's pen.

"Anyone particularly interesting?" Heero prodded gently.

Relena blushed at having revealed so much of herself to her servant. "Oh, I couldn't say, really..." Wanting an excuse to leave the subject gracefully, she set the champagne down and looked instead at the posh silver trays full of tiny cakes, fruit tarts and dainties that had been specially prepared for the occasion. "Don't these look lovely!" She took off one glove and looked over the selection.

As she reached for a bit of sponge cake, Heero met her hand halfway and took hold of it, gently but firmly, and pulled it closer to his side of the table. Relena shivered at the contact and drew in a quick breath. Rubbing the backs of her thin fingers with his thumb, Heero caught her shocked glance and refused to let go. "These letters," he said in that dark, husky tone she remembered fondly from their first meeting, "could I read them sometime?"

Relena was frozen in his grasp. She couldn't think. She couldn't breathe. His hand was so warm and soft around hers, she just wanted the rest of the world to disappear, to leave her alone with his flaming touch. "I...uh..."

"Not that I mean to intrude, far from it," he said soothingly, "but I do feel it would help me understand you better...to hear the same words you heard as a child...to know what you know..."

The girl was melting, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the summer sun. She licked her suddenly dry lips and swallowed. "Of course...the letters are in my father's study. I'll get them for you when we return," she said breathlessly.

Heero released her hand, satisfied with her answer. "Thank you." He watched her pulse and breath rate slowly return to normal, always keeping a firm eye on her, always keeping her a little bit under his spell. _Thank you very much indeed. Correspondence written in Khushrenada's own hand, now that could be very useful...thank you, Miss Relena._ Mentally patting himself on the back for a job well done, he drained his glass of champagne in one gulp.

They frittered away the next hour and a half saying very little until it was time to take their seats in the Royal Enclosure. Heero was nearly turned away for not having a top hat on, but Lady Peacecraft pulled rank on the minor track official and threatened to cause a scene if he wasn't admitted. She won rather quickly.

Relena settled in for what she hoped would be a tremendously entertaining afternoon of high-quality horse racing; fate, however, had other plans. A woman in a _very_ grand hat and a designer gown that simply screamed 'high class' as well as 'high price tag' sat next to Heero and leaned right in front of him to greet the blonde girl to his left. "Why hello there!"

The voice was smooth, snide, and full of cheerful contempt. Relena knew it instantly. "Lady Une, lovely to see you again..."

"I must admit, I'm rather surprised to see you here. Didn't imagine you could get past the front door without daddy holding your hand." Une sat back in her chair and fanned herself like a Persian cat flicking it's tail haughtily.

Relena smiled sweetly, staring forward at the racetrack. "I didn't expect to see you here without a new suitor on your arm. Slow week, is it?"

The brunette stared forward also, with a smile half as sweet and twice as forced. "I'd expect a remark like that from the ill-mannered and ill-bred."

"I suppose if you spent enough time with them, you'd get to know them very well."

"Well, if the common folk insist on hovering around me, they must want to learn my secrets of superiority."

"I do hate it when unworthy people claim to be superior, it makes life _so_ much more difficult for those of us who actually are."

Very politely phrased insults passed between the women one after another in rapid succession. Heero wondered if they actually knew he was there, or if they were putting on this little display for his benefit, to show which of them could hold out the longest without running away in tears. Whatever was going on between them ran deep, and had a long history. He sat quite still and said nothing; best not to get involved.

"The mark of quality always finds it way to the _right_ people, and the _right_ people won't mind a bit if I attend a gathering unescorted." Une turned her head just enough to look Heero over from head to toe. "And if I thought they _would_ mind, I _certainly_ wouldn't resort to parading around with one of the staff. It's called class, my dear."

Relena's head whipped around with a mixed expression of pride and hatred. "I don't see how it could possibly be any of your business who I'm escorted by, and if our positions were reversed, I'd have twice the class you'd have because I wouldn't draw attention to it!"

Une laughed and folded her delicate lace fan in her lap. "Careful, my dear, mustn't get defensive or people might think there's something sordid between you two to be defensive about!" Heero could only raise an eyebrow at her, more from fear of doing her physical harm than heed for his lowly position compared to hers.

"How dare you make such an insinuation!" Their whispers were getting louder by degrees. "My household is run with the utmost in good taste, and I'll thank you not to suggest otherwise," Relena spat.

"I don't have to suggest anything! Give it time and it'll be all over London, in the papers, everywhere. Then everyone will know how you've been shamelessly carrying on in your dear father's abscence."

Heero bristled. _That does it._ Being in the middle of a ping-pong match between two wailing Harpies was bad enough without one of them hinting that he was having an illicit affair on the billiard table every night. He had his own dignity to think of! He twisted in his chair and opened his mouth to say something really cutting, but Relena leaned overtop of him before he got the chance. "I should smack you right in the mouth for that, you vicious old cow!"

Lady Une leaned closer still, until Heero couldn't see the racetrack anymore, just the sides of their faces poised an inch apart from one another. "I should watch what you say and do in public, if I were you. Bad impressions last a lifetime, you know, and the longer you can keep people from finding out that you have no class, the better off you'll be."

"I'm positively _dripping_ class, I'll have you know, and when you see my name in the papers, it'll be to herald the triumphs of my superior summer luncheonettes with Parisian buffet, garden entertainment, and Ceylon tea served from my exclusive line of Wedgwood china with the hand-painted strawberry leaves." Relena sat swiftly back in her chair and folded her arms in a huff, considering the subject closed.

The brunette gave a tiny snort of disdain. "And who will be attending these luncheonettes, the footman and the hall porter? Or will the invitation be extended to _my_ staff as well?"

Relena sat straight up and fixed a cold glare on her opponent. "I shall be entertaining none other than Count Treize Khushrenada of Schaffhausen at my estate, and since my social engagements will be limited to only the superlative element of the upper crust, I shan't worry about seeing _you_ there."

As she turned back to the racetrack, determined to ignore her rival for the rest of the afternoon, Relena didn't see the strange look that crossed Lady Une's face. Heero caught it, and found it more than intriguing. He could read surprise, remembrance, and something else he couldn't identify wash over her features before she finally spoke. "Really..."

Heero studied her intensely, and she seemed too caught up in memories to notice. He was probably too far beneath her socially to be worth noticing except to shame Relena with, in her eyes. _You know something,_ he thought, _you know him, don't you? How well do you know him? How much does he trust you? You and I really ought to have a chat sometime, Lady Une._

Miraculously, there wasn't another incident between them for the rest of the afternoon. They went back to being well-behaved ladies and made no further attempts to take each other down a notch. The races provided a suitable distraction, during which their tempers cooled to a more civilized temperature. Heero felt sure, however, that the next time these two met, they'd most likely boil over.

**********  
  


Duo wasn't one to have a defeatist attitude, but he was seriously considering it, with the mood he was in. He'd spent every free moment scouring the streets for his friend, the girl he playfully thought of as his little sister. They only crossed paths a few times in London over the years, but they had become fast friends, and Duo wanted very badly to know that she was warm and safe with a roof over her head.

It was dark out by the time he made it back to the manor, after cooking dinner and going straight out afterwards to resume his search. His aching feet could hardly stand the march up the three flights of rickety stairs to his room. Once there, he tossed his shoes in the corner and flopped on the double bed, exhausted.

Heero didn't acknowledge his entrance, being too engrossed in a large stack of letters he obtained from the study. He was sitting at the writing desk at the foot of his own bed, poring over page after page of graceful, energetic handwriting. To his left was a small stack of newspapers, a pair of scissors, and a pile of articles cut from the papers and set aside. To his right were a few pieces of embossed Bridlewood stationery, on which he jotted copious notes as he read the letters.

Duo was instantly bored and forgot all about being tired and sleepy. "Hey, Heero," he said expectantly, "are we gonna keep going, or are we done for the weekend?" The chef reached under his bed and pulled out one of the children's books Quatre had loacted for him. For the last several nights, Heero had seen the potential benefits of having an eager helper sharing his room, and was taking it upon himself to teach the boy how to read.

"No lesson tonight, I'm working." Heero didn't even turn around to look at him.

Duo pouted. "Not even a little bit? It won't take that long, just gimmie twenty minutes, okay?" No response. He jumped off the bed and hovered over the other boy like a wasp. "Ten minutes, even...c'mon, Heero, don't just sit there like you can't hear me, say something!"

Heero slapped the letters down and looked straight ahead at the wall, angry and irritated. "Duo, find something quiet to do, or go to sleep!"

Unseen by Heero, the chef stuck his tongue out and scrunched up his nose. "Fine, geez, don't bite my head off..." He sat down on his bed and debated going to sleep; he was tired but wired, and wanted to burn off his excess mental energy somehow. Looking around the room, he spotted a white rectangle under the smallish wooden table that separated his bed from Heero's. He picked it up and examined it; the object was an envelope with a letter inside.

_Okay, here's something I can practice on, with or without your help, smarty._ Duo studied the scratchings in black ink on the envelope. "Bree...Bri...Bridlee...oh, Bridlewood!" he exclaimed gleefully at recognizing part of his new home address.

Heero sighed deeply, hoping Duo would take the hint and shut up without being told, but the boy opened the letter and continued. "Okay, what have we got here...'As soon as pose...poseeb...possible! Need infor...uh...informay-something...resuh--no, resume...communi...cay-something..."

Heero looked up from his work. That didn't sound like a cookbook; what had Duo gotten his hands on?

"Lord...Jeff-something. Heero, who's Lord Jeff-something?"

Heero leapt out of his chair, lunged at Duo and tore the paper out of his hands. It was the letter he received the same morning, of that there was no doubt; he cursed himself for not remembering to burn it after returning from Ascot. Duo shrank away quickly and plastered himself against the wall, startled at the boy's reaction. Heero towered angrily over him and gestured wildly with his free hand; he came dangerously close to striking the boy.

"Don't _ever_ read my mail again! Do you understand me!? Don't touch _anything_ of mine!! Don't even set foot on this side of the room, got it!?" Heero waited until the petrified child managed a tiny nod, then went straight back to his work.

Duo curled up into a tight ball on his bed and stared at Heero for awhile, wondering when it would be safe to move. His gaze fell on the pretty ornamental birds on the bedside table, and he stared at them rather sadly for a few minutes. Heero was still writing with his back to him, but he didn't look relaxed or in a forgiving mood. Duo gave silent thanks that the dresser was on his side of the room, quietly fetched his pajamas out of it, and slunk out.

Once Heero heard the click of the bathroom door, he set his pen down and rubbed his eyes. He hadn't meant to snap at Duo, it just happened...it was his own fault for not burning the letter, anyway. Later, he might try and apologize, after his study into the affairs of Count Khushrenada was completed.

The letters revealed much that Lord Peacecraft probably never told his young daughter. Politically speaking, the Count had his fingers in many pies, and between the letters and the international newspapers, Heero was beginning to construct a frighteningly powerful picture of a man without scruples or limits. There was no safe option except to prepare for the worst.

Taking advantage of being alone in the room, he reached under his bunk and pulled out his black suitcase, still bearing the scratches from Otto's attempts to gain entry. He opened it as quietly as he could and took out the revolver he'd been guarding so carefully since his arrival. A quick check of the barrel confirmed it was fully loaded, but it was during this examination that the bathroom door opened too quietly for him to hear.

A tiny gasp sounded in the hall, and Heero acted on his reflexes, whirling around in his chair and pointing the gun at a pair of terrified violet eyes. The black-clad chef dropped the bundle of clothes he was carrying and bolted down the darkened hall.

_Damn!_ Heero stashed the gun in a desk drawer and took off after him. Duo was still fast on his feet, but there were no other lights on in the attic, and Heero had the floor plan committed to memory. The frightened boy mistakenly ran into a cluttered storage room instead of heading for the stairwell and quickly found himself trapped.

Heero stopped just inside the room; it was pitch black inside, and he hadn't thought to bring any matches. There weren't any electric lights on the fourth floor either. Finding a thief dressed all in black was going to be interesting. He shut the door behind him and listened for movement. "Duo?"

His quarry was crouched behind some boxes and trunks in the corner farthest from both the door and the window. He could hear the butler's carefully measured footsteps growing closer and closer.

"Duo...I'm not going to hurt you...come back to our room so we can talk about this."

Duo had all but made up his mind that he wasn't going anywhere with Heero, ever. He fought to keep his breathing slow and steady as he helplessly listened to the other voice growing nearer and more insistent.

"Just come back with me. Everything's going to be fine." Heero's words were soothing, but his tone of voice was not. He didn't have time for this. He was angry, at Duo for meddling, at himself for being so careless, at the Count for making weapons of any kind a necessity for him. "I'm not leaving this room without you."

Instinct drew Heero to the corner in which Duo was hiding, a clump of boxes almost head-high obscuring the boys from each other's sight. Somehow he _felt_ Duo's presence right in front of him, but trying to get at him from either side of the barricade would be useless. He would be out the other side, out the door, and quite probably out of the house before Heero could blink.

He gingerly picked up a small can of wood stain and aimed for a spot along the wall to the left of the boxes. Holding his breath, he threw the can at the wall where it collided with a sharp clunk. Duo sprang out from the right-hand side of the boxes and ran straight into Heero, easily victimized by the simple ruse. Before the braided boy could cry out and alarm the household, Heero backed him up against the wall and pinned him in place with his own body. He clutched both of his tiny wrists in one hand and suspended them securely against the wall over his head, while the other hand clapped quickly over Duo's mouth, silencing him.

Duo's eyes were wide with fright, and his breathing quickened involuntarily. He tried to pull his arms down and kick Heero's legs out from under him, but nothing worked. _Maybe Quatre had a point about this guy after all,_ he thought.

Heero leaned in close so he could whisper in Duo's ear. "Listen to me. I said I wouldn't hurt you, but if you struggle, you'll end up hurting yourself." Duo squirmed a bit, but they both knew it was useless; he was still weak and malnourished from a lifetime on the streets. Finally, he stood still. "I'll let you talk if you promise not to scream. Do you promise?"

Duo forced himself to calm down and stop hyperventilating, and as a reward, the hand slowly came off his mouth. Heero pulled away until they were a foot apart, but he kept a strong hold on Duo's wrists, one in each of his hands, held between them. Once again, Heero found himself staring into those purple gems, their owner completely helpless in his grip. He actually forgot what he was in the room for until Duo broke the silence with a frantic whisper.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I won't read your mail anymore, I won't snore anymore, I won't talk, I won't move, I'll just sit there until I'm supposed to be doing something different!" He definitely sounded as if he feared for his life.

Heero had only one shot to repair the damage, and it had to count. "I didn't mean to point the gun at you...you just startled me, that's all."

"I startled YOU!?" Duo shrieked. He winced at how unexpectedly loud that was and seemed to shrink further into the wall, taking Heero's glare with him. He lowered his voice back down to a whisper. "I think I have a perfect _right_ to be scared out of my wits, thank you very much!"

"I know," Heero sighed, "but you don't have to be afraid of me." He paused, trying to come up with a plausible explanation for being a heavily-armed butler in a house full of pampered weaklings. "I have another job, on the side...sometimes it means getting into trouble...falling into danger. I'm just trying to protect myself on the job, that's all. I have no intention of shooting you over how loudly you snore."

The last bit brought a grin to Duo's face. "You'd better not, 'cause if you heard yourself snore, you wouldn't have a leg to stand on."

Heero didn't argue with him, he simply held the boy's wrists up between them and let go of them slowly and carefully, demonstrating his lack of true malice. Duo let his arms fall back down at his sides, and they stood there, staring at each other for a few tense moments. "So," Heero ventured, "are we alright now?"

Duo thought it over. "Yeah, s'pose so...only warn me from now on if you're gonna store firearms in the same room as me!"

Heero nodded. "Fair enough. Shall we go?"

Duo grinned widely and started back through the maze of boxes towards the door; all was apparently forgiven. They left the storage room and walked back down the hall, only to be stopped midway by Elsie, poking her bonnet-covered head out of the housemaids' bedroom and giving them a furious look. "What's all that noise? Some of us have gotta get some sleep, y'know!"

"Aw, it was nothing," Duo said with a smirk, "Heero caught a mouse, that's all."

"A mouse?" Elsie asked in disbelief. "On the fourth floor? You must be joking!"

"Nope, it was there alright. A very naughty mouse who's learned his lesson." Duo yawned comically. "And now the mouse is going to bed. G'night!"

Heero pretended to shrug innocently at Elsie and followed Duo back to their room. He could hear the bewildered woman conversing with the other maids as their voices faded in the distance. "Did he say a mouse?"

"Don't pay no attention to 'im, luv...the boy's crackers!" Two doors shut firmly for the night, and not a sound was heard from within.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


> _Next, in Episode Seven: Treize arrives with a guest on his arm; they seem quite harmless to most of the staff, but Heero knows better. How long can secrets be kept in a growing household, and whose will be discovered first? The month of July will be interesting indeed..._

*kusukusu* How kawaii was that? =^-^= And get a load of Hee-chan now! *gasp* He knows how to get what he wants from women all of a sudden! Let's hope he uses his powers for good instead of evil! *Duo runs in, puts Relena in a box, puts the box in the corner, and sits on it smugly* Okay dear, I'll get to you in a minute. Now, there are NO NOTES YET on my webpage because Dreamwater is being a pain and I can't get into my File Manager. But there will be a short note later on, whenever I can get through. Next Episode will be the last one for June, on the 29th. =^_~= See you then!


	7. Treize Arrives

**June 29th, 8:44pm** -- Sorry for the delay, but I couldn't get far enough into FFN earlier today to upload this chapter sooner. *shrug* Technical gremlins, nothing to worry about. But if I'm ever delayed like this again, because I can't access this site, I won't break my promise of turning out a chapter on the day I said I would--you can find it on my website if you get desperate. =^_^=

*whoof* This turned out to be a looooong chapter! Better get yourself a donut before you start reading! =@_@= This episode will round out the month of June, which had been mostly filled with setting up various situations and relationships...next month, we actually start _doing_ something with these situations and relationships. =^_~=

Disclaimer: This year, for my birthday, I asked for omnipotent control over the five Gundam pilots contained herein, which I didn't think was too extravagant or outlandish. What did I get? A set of green plastic see-thru picnicware from Zellers. I hope my now-ex-boyfriend puts a little more thought into his next girlfriend's birthday gift. If you want to sue me for control of the picnicware, well, whatever floats yer boat, I guess... =P

**Suggested Font: Times New Roman**  
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Episode Seven: Treize Arrives

> _"I am always in haste, but never in a hurry." ~John Wesley_

June 29th, 1901

The most unlikely of suspects was awake long before the rest of the house even had stray thoughts about getting out of bed. Heero knew this by the sound of pots and pans clanking faintly from the kitchen, four floors below him. The noise wafted up the servants' stairwell just enough to trick his drowsy brain into thinking he'd woken up back at the pub, but only for a moment.

Sitting up with a yawn and a stretch, he looked over at the other half of the room. Sure enough, Duo was gone, up long before the sun, and had sneaked out quietly enough not to wake the lightly sleeping butler. _Amazing..._ Usually it took three or four death threats to get Duo up in the mornings, and strangely enough, knowing there was a loaded gun in the desk drawer hadn't made a thimbleful of difference.

Since today would be something of a formal occasion, the day Count Khushrenada arrived, Heero wore his more expensive tuxedo-style jacket with tails, and white gloves to complete his uniform. It was going to be stifling in that coat today, but protocol was protocol, regardless of the weather.

Before he reached the bottom of the stairs, the clanking stopped and Duo's hyper voice was carrying on a cheerfully frantic one-sided conversation with Quatre. "Now, you know where you're going, right? This guy in the market thinks he saw her hanging around Charing Cross Station, okay? She's about so high, short dark hair, and last time I saw her, she had on a dark blue hat with a narrow brim and lots of little pink flowers and stuff on it."

"Mmph," Quatre mumbled. Having been kept up long past midnight helping Duo read through every cookbook on the shelf, the poor boy had been so thoroughly worn out that he slept right through his morning prayers and still looked about ready to fall over. Nevertheless, Duo had managed to wheedle him into dressing up in his street clothes instead of his gardening gear _and_ convinced him to go traipsing all over town on some errand. Quatre teetered on the spot he stood, wearing tan cotton trousers, and a shirt and vest in rather flowery colours that could have been explained away by the fact that he was still half asleep.

Heero mentally chalked this up as the second unintentional yet careless infraction against the boy's religious sensibilities by Duo. The first was serving a dessert containing gelatin, a food item forbidden under Islamic law, on his first night at the manor. After being informed of his culinary faux-pas, he apologized profusely to Quatre, and had been forgiven, but after the browbeating he received from Heero about consideration for the customs of other faiths, he'd hoped the chef would be a little more circumspect in his treatment of the other residents. It hadn't worked.

Duo gathered up a scrambled egg pocket bread off the kitchen table and shoved it into Quatre's hands. "There's your breakfast, lunch is at noon, good luck, see ya later!" He started nudging him unceremoniously towards the back door.

"Duo!" Heero barked angrily, practically running across the kitchen. "What are you doing to him? It's not even six o'clock yet!"

The chef turned on his heel and glared at the intruder. His eyes were wild and a little glazed. "Relena hasn't found another maid yet! I've got eight hours to find my friend and get her the job before Treize gets here and we all find out the maids are just whiny little wenches who really don't _need_ any extra help!" There was something odd about the way Duo spoke, like he'd been hooked directly into the manor's electricity supply. He quickly went back to steering Quatre towards the door.

Heero caught his arm and stopped them both. "You can't send him out in this condition," he said, twirling the gardener around to peer into his half-closed eyes. "Look at him! He can barely stand!"

"Well, I can't go, I've got a ton of work to do! And you feel fine, doncha, Quat? Sure ya do!" Duo grabbed the pale hand that held the pocket bread and lifted it to just under Quatre's nose, causing the sleepy boy's eyes to open just a crack wider.

"Hmphmn..." Quatre murmured.

"Ridiculous," Heero sneered. He walked over to the stove and picked up the still-steaming coffee pot, intending to pour Quatre some liquid wakefulness. "He's going to walk in front of the milkman's horse and cart and get knocked down, or walk into a..." It occurred to Heero that nothing came out of the coffee pot, no matter how far forward he tilted it. "Where's the coffee?

"Drank it," Duo said, flitting between the pantry and the work table.

"Mrfmml..." Quatre muttered.

"_All_ of it!?" Heero gasped, eyes wide. No wonder Duo was bouncing off the walls and talking a mile a minute.

"I needed it, okay? I was up really late, and then up again really early, and there's a lot I gotta get done, so stay out of the danger zone!" He was practically flying across the kitchen, flinging ingredients onto the table from all corners of the room.

Heero walked up to Quatre with the coffee pot, rattled it to demonstrate that it was empty, and gave him an apologetic look. Quatre slowly processed the sad circumstance, shrugged, took a bite of his breakfast and staggered numbly out the door.

With a shake of his head, Heero put the coffee pot back on the stove and walked over to the massive work table, now covered in nearly everything edible that one could imagine. He noticed a piece of paper lying on it, and picked it up mere seconds before a sack of demerara sugar came soaring in from the other side of the room and landed in the paper's place with a sound 'thump'. Heero jumped back in near terror, pressing his back against the cupboards as a bag of flour followed it, missing his clean black coat by an inch. "Duo!" he hollered again.

The cook twisted around and gave Heero an exasperated look. "I thought I told you to scram!" He stomped briskly forward and snatched the paper out of the butler's hands. "Gimmie that!"

Heero grabbed it back. "What is this? Did you write it this time?"

Duo yanked it back again. "Yes, I wrote it! It's my 'to-do' list, now shoo!"

Heero whipped the paper away from the chef and glared a warning against any further retaliation. The writing was crude and a bit wobbly, but it was legible. "Shrimp croquettes, Russian salad, boeuf bourguignon, blanquettes de veau, roast duckling with raspberry vinegar..." The list went on for nearly twenty more items; Heero looked them over with disbelief. "You're making _all_ of this?"

"Heck no, I haven't decided what to cook yet." Duo folded his arms nonchalantly, wondering vaguely why Heero looked about ready to pass out from shock. "What!?"

"Duo, this has to be cooked and on the table today. Not next week, _today_. You've already sent one member of the staff out looking for your friend when we need him _here_, you're not sending anyone else out to a restaurant to buy dinner at the last minute when you finally figure out that you're in over your head!"

"Shut up! I know what I'm doing!" Duo yelled, grabbing the list one final time and retreating to the other side of the kitchen. "If you wanna be a downer, do it someplace else. For the next eight hours, this is a sulk-free zone! Now, out!" He pointed resolutely at the stairs.

Heero rolled his eyes and left, muttering 'baka' and 'gouman' under his breath. _I don't know why I'm bothering with it anyway. What do I care if Treize goes hungry? I should be more worried about getting shot in the back than hearing complaints about the food. Maybe Jeffrhyss is right...maybe I really am getting too wrapped up in my cover..._

He trudged upstairs, hoping to get away from the commotion long enough to go over the dozens of surveillance strategies whirling about in his head, in preparation for the guests' arrival. When the front doors opened that afternoon, Heero would click over to that other mode of operation buried in his psyche, that of a well-trained spy, an agent of a powerful organization which saw Treize as their ultimate threat.

For the moment, however, he was still a humble butler, and within an hour of leaving the kitchen, the rest of the house was buzzing with frantic servants, all of whom required his supervision. The morning was frittered away quickly on such benign topics as where to stand when the introductions were made and what sort of fresh flowers to put in the front foyer.

**********  
  


The boat from Calais, France to Dover, England was only a few minutes late, which translated to the regulars as being right on time. Once passengers disembarked and collected their luggage, it was only a short distance to the train station, although the very wealthy could make a grand show of packing a carriage to the roof and beyond for the brief trip between ports of call.

One such display of opulence was being enjoyed that day by a rather tall and quite handsomely aristocratic man and his fair-haired travelling companion. They had several porters at the train station hopping around madly to get all of their belongings loaded before the train was late, and those that weren't rushing about stood and marvelled at who these rich, powerful persons might be.

The gentleman was dressed to the nines in an unusual, but doubtless very expensive, suit of the finest material available. It was all in white, from the top hat covering his auburn hair, to the cape that swirled around his broad shoulders in the brisk wind, down to his white shoes whose shine could blind a man at thirty paces. His left hand guarded a fashionable black walking stick with an ornate handle; his right hand remained casually at his side except for only one occasion when he took a gold watch on a chain from his waistcoat pocket and gave it a relaxed glance.

"Industrious, aren't they...these English?" he remarked to his companion.

The woman standing next to him wrinkled her nose in disdain. "If you say so. Personally, I'm tired of hearing all about how clever the British are and how well their Empire is doing." She brushed back her long blonde hair with her free hand, looking down on the peasants skittering around. Her other arm was presently the property of a fluffy white and tan cat wearing a diamond-studded collar, whose expression was even more uppity than that of it's owner.

"Not to worry," the man reassured her, "a little patience and a lot of planning, and the Empire may soon realize it's best days are behind it." He leaned both hands on his walking stick and smiled, watching the porters running to and fro, oblivious of the treachery at work only a few feet away. "All it needs is a nudge in the right direction, and it will all come crashing down around them."

After regarding the many porters for awhile, he noted that one of them wasn't running like the others, but taking his time as if the timetable of the wealthy made little difference to him. The porter was slight, but strong and purposeful, and cast a furtive glance at the man in the white suit when he was sure no-one was looking. The only other characteristic that marked him as being any different from the others was his olive-toned face bearing the wise dark eyes typical of the far east, and his shoulder-length black hair pulled into a tight ponytail under his hat.

The man in the white suit tugged the glove off his right hand and snapped his fingers. "You there! Boy! No, not you...the short one..." The clearly asian porter was quickly separated from the rest of the group; he stood like a pillar holding up the roof of the station, staring boldly at the taller man. "Come here," the man ordered quietly.

The porter obeyed, coming within a few feet of the one who beckoned him. "Sir?" he inquired bluntly. The voice was not meek and deferential as it should have been, but firm, and with a definite scornful edge to it's tone.

Choosing not to notice, the man in the white suit plunged his gloved hand into his pocket and took out a half-crown. "See if you can find us a _private_ car on the train, will you, boy?" He held out the coin, watching the smaller man carefully.

The porter took the coin without looking at it, his eyes never leaving those of the giver. "Of course, sir." He turned and disappeared into the crowd with smooth, fluid movements.

Once he was gone, the blonde woman turned to her companion with a befuddled, almost miffed expression. "What did you do that for? Private cars on English trains for foreigners like us? Are you mad? Even the station master couldn't arrange that much for us! Why bother with that whelp?"

The auburn-haired man grinned at the dear, unobservant lady. "He's no porter, and he has absolutely nothing to do with the trains, that's why. If you hadn't noticed, he's been following us ever since Hamburg."

The young lady bristled, and her cat seemed to do the same. "Then why waste your money on a potential spy?"

"Because, my dear," the man said, adjusting his white top hat, "I wanted him to know that I'm aware of his presence. I wanted him to know he isn't as clever as he imagines himself to be. He'll keep his distance now."

The conductor called for the remaining passengers to board the train, and the pair walked casually across the platform. The blonde woman stroked her content cat's head and back, giving brief thought to the situation. "Unless he doesn't care whether you're aware of him or not," she added.

The corners of the man's lips twitched upwards, amused at her sense of strategy. "Quite."

Content with their safety for now, they boarded the train with all decorum due to their social position. Outside on the platform, the busy day continued as people milled about on the ground, totally unaware, not bothering to look up and see the strange sight overhead.

Seated cross-legged on top of the train, with his hands neatly folded and his hat tucked away somewhere, was the strange asian porter. He sat without flinching as the train pulled away from the station, and only had to duck a tiny amount to clear the first bridge. Whether the man in the white suit was aware of him or not truly didn't matter; he was fated to lead the porter directly to his assigned target.

**********  
  


"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir...it's an _honour_ to meet you...it's a _delight_ to make your acquaintance...it's an _extreme_ delight to...no, that's too much." Relena paced up and down the foyer rehearsing her speech and practising her best curtsey. Less than an hour remained until the prearranged time of her uncle's arrival, and she couldn't help but feel a little queasy about the whole thing.

Otto finally came up behind her to offer his few but well-appreciated words of compassion, as always. "Would you calm yourself, m'lady? If your uncle is the sort of family-oriented gentleman Lord Peacecraft always described him as, it won't matter to him if you happen to make some tiny error in your introduction."

She turned around and clasped her hands together. "You're right, of course," she sighed, "but I just want to make a good impression. I don't want him to think I'm one of these silly girls who live off her family's riches without putting a foot outside into the world. I want to look and sound like I can stand on my own two feet."

Otto chuckled. "I'm sure you're worrying yourself over nothing."

"Oh, perhaps, but I don't care." She walked gracefully to the window next to the front door and peered out of it expectantly. "Maybe it's because I'm so afraid of being labelled as weak, and that no-one could ever take me seriously that I..." She trailed off, looking intensely out the window all of a sudden.

Otto took her silence as something emotionally profound. "Miss Relena...you _will_ be alright..."

Relena didn't turn from the window, but her volume turned up several notches. "What is he _doing_ out there?"

"Miss?" Otto said with a confused blink.

"Out there!" Relena gasped, stepping back from the window far enough to point. Otto joined her and squinted through the glare-filled pane of glass. Creeping along the property line, straight through the hedges as if not wanting to be seen, was Trowa, hunched over and trying to sneak around the back of the house carrying a large, lumpy sack.

"He's supposed to be in the coachhouse re-polishing my carriage! What's he up to?" Relena hefted up her formal skirts with one hand and flung the door open with the other, dashing angrily out onto the front porch. "Trowa! Come here at once!"

The cinnamon-haired boy froze, then winced. _Caught!_ He knew her Ladyship would be none too pleased to hear that Duo had left preparations for the welcoming banquet until the last minute, and was sending anyone with free time out hunting for ingredients. His mind raced, trying to come up with a convincing story as he headed grimly for the front porch.

Trowa wondered exactly how sheepish he looked as he climbed the steps. "I was just taking this out back to feed the horses, miss."

Relena raised a suspicious eyebrow and tugged down the corner of the sack, exposing the contents. "And I was unaware that our horses preferred freshly caught salmon to a bag of oats!" She folded her arms as the pieces fell into place rather quickly. "If this is for dinner, it should have been here first thing this morning! What's going on in the kitchen!?"

From the way Trowa fumbled for words and grew red in the face, it was obvious to her that something wasn't right. She had Otto steer the guilty lad down to the kitchen, determined to see for herself how the preparations were going. What she saw would have sent a weaker woman into a panic.

The scene was absolute chaos; pots were boiling over on the stove, dark grey smoke was seeping out around the door of the oven, Frederick was barking his head off at the pile of potato peels he slipped on, and a fine cloud of flour hung in the air everywhere. In the middle of the mess was Duo, oblivious to the pandemonium and struggling to stir a bowl of pastry dough that was putting up an unusually strong fight. He had somehow conned all three housemaids into helping him, and they whisked around the kitchen trying to contain the disasters. Slowly they realized that Relena was watching and came to a nervous halt, all except Duo.

Otto offerred the stunned girl an arm to keep from falling over, but she was too furious to notice. "No...no no no, tell me that on the day of the most important dinner I have _ever_ hosted, for the man I most wanted to impress in all the _world_, that my kitchen is _not_ in the state it appears to be!"

"Your kitchen is not in the state it appears to be," Duo deadpanned, not looking up from his bowl. "Actually it's much worse, but I hide it well. Hey, Trowa! You made it back!" Relena was more shocked than upset that Duo looked up to acknowledge the silent stable lad instead of her angry shouting. The chef brushed flour off his hands and took the sack of food from his faithful helper. "Thanks, man!"

Otto stormed over and threatened to singe Duo's head right off using only the heat of his eyes. Unseen by all, Heero tiptoed partway down the stairs, just enough to watch the execution, having been alerted by the shouting. He smirked to himself as Otto bellowed. "Is this how you repay her Ladyship after she graciously takes you into her home!? Look at this mess! Nothing will be ready on time now!"

Duo had no qualms about standing toe-to-toe with the huge bear of a man and staring him in the face. "Look, I've got it covered, okay? Don't panic!"

Heero watched from the shadows as they argued back and forth; this was precisely what he predicted would happen when it was discovered that the braided idiot wasn't up to the job. Otto had reached his boiling point, and Duo was about to be fired...so why wasn't Heero enjoying the display? _I'll be vindicated, Duo will be out of the house, I'll have my peace and quiet back...that's what I wanted all along, right?_

He thought he had been quite sure that he wanted the meddlesome chef out of his room and his life ever since the boy arrived, but now the sudden, sharp pang in his chest told him otherwise. Heero frowned deeply, not knowing what the odd feeling was, only that it was unpleasant. _What's wrong with me? If I wanted him gone, why have I been bothering with teaching him to read? Why didn't I just let him run away the other night instead of chasing after him and..._ A chunk of reality hit Heero between the eyes; he didn't really want the boy to go, nor did he understand why. He only knew that as Duo defiantly turned his back to the larger man in anger and his well-maintained facade of having it all together began crumbling to dust, he felt a part of him debating whether or not to leap out and come to his defence, say something, say anything...

The stifling silence grew exponentially, between the stunned and frustrated staff scattered around the kitchen, and the butler stuck halfway down the opposite stairs, mired in indecision. Not a sound rang from any corner of the room for nearly a minute, until the back door flew open and Quatre came running in with a cheery smile on his face and a young girl's hand clutching his own.

"Duo! I found her! She was selling flowers in Piccadilly...uh...Circus..." The gardener and the dark-haired girl behind him stopped in their tracks and looked nervously at the scene. "Is...everything alright?"

The chef was the first to move, leaping clear over the table when he saw who Quatre had brought with him. "Hilde!" He swept the dark-haired girl, her poor clothes, and her tray of flowers into a massive hug and twirled her around the floor as she laughed.

"Put me down, you goof!" Hilde yelped with glee. Duo immediately complied and pulled her over to stand in front of Relena, who was looking more dazed by the second.

"This is the girl I was telling you about, your Ladyship," Duo said hurriedly, "and seeing as how you've got about twenty minutes left to make up your mind, wouldn't it be a heck of a lot easier if you just hired her now so you can get back upstairs and fix your face? Your nose is shiny, by the way..."

Everyone started talking frantically at once. Otto was shouting at Duo and getting nowhere, Duo was flashing his big violet eyes at Relena to help make the decision for her, the housemaids began complaining about their workload again, and Hilde was practically on her knees begging to be given a chance. Relena clapped both hands over her ears, while Trowa and Quatre retreated to the far corner near the pantry, not wanting to get any more involved than they already were. Finally, her Ladyship couldn't take any more of it.

"Alright! Alright! Enough!!" Silence fell once again upon the kitchen. Relena straightened her dress, took a deep breath, and counted quietly to ten. "Duo, I am _extremely_ upset with you right now. Aggravation like this was the last thing I needed today...but you are right, I don't have long to think about this. You and your little friend have exactly until tomorrow morning to convince me I'm not making a huge mistake by letting you stay."

Now the eyes of four official housemaids lit up, and Duo looked suitably, if falsely, humbled and indebted to his employer. "Thank you, Miss Relena! You won't regret this!"

Relena touched a hand to her temple, fighting off a headache. "I already do." She beckoned Otto back to her side, looked around the kitchen despondently, and turned to flee. "Bethany, take her upstairs and get her cleaned up, the rest of you, back to work...and Duo..." She made a strange gurgling noise when she looked over at the cooker covered in overflowing saucepans. "Clean up this mess."

As their superiors disappeared up one set of stairs, Heero crept further down the other, wanting to get a closer look at this friend of Duo's. The maids were all giggling and gabbing with the new arrival, and Duo threw a mock salute at the spot where Relena had once stood before going back to his pastry dough.

Heero found something about Hilde unsettling, adding one more alien sensation to his already confused synapses. He'd felt decidedly strange for the last ten minutes since the fracas began, and when he saw Duo embrace this girl, he suddenly felt worse. Leaving the scene quietly and quickly, he dragged himself and his muddled brain all the way upstairs to his room, to the one thing that might make him 'feel' better.

Tucked under the corner of his mattress was a folded slip of paper, a lifeline given to him when he left the watchful eye of Lord Jeffrhyss for the first time. It was part of Heero's default programming that if he should ever feel hopelessly lost because of circumstances or sensations he couldn't understand, that he should read the words of his master, and all would be well again. He rarely thought about it, and would never speak of it to anyone, but the little slip of paper had the power to keep him sane, or so he was told.

He sat at the desk and unfolded the paper, desperately seeking the familiar words he had been entrusted with: _'Peace comes from harmony. Harmony comes from oneness. Oneness comes from obedience. Obedience brings about order. Order brings about peace.'_

Heero repeated the words in his mind until the uncomfortable feeling in his chest subsided.

**********  
  


At five minutes to two, Relena was a rapidly changed woman. She stood, proud and smiling, at the end of the front walk, seemingly unaffected by the possibility that dinner would be a disaster. Otto stood on her right hand, struck by how swiftly and completely she had recovered.

Behind them were two rows of servants, lining either side of the walkway and facing each other, gentlemen on the left and ladies on the right. Relena wasn't sure which gneder should stand on which side, so she flipped a coin. As long as they looked balanced and fairly tidy, she reasoned, it probably wouldn't matter.

The highest ranking servants stood closest to the street, moving back towards those of diminished social importance. From the road to the house, one line was made up of Heero, Duo, Trowa, Quatre and Arthur in that order, and the other line was Doris, Elsie, Bethany and Hilde. Relena had to admit, the new girl cleaned herself up rather well in the space of fifteen minutes, and the lineup would have looked more lopsided without her. _Maybe this won't be a catastrophe after all,_ she thought.

Zero hour approached and two very grand carriages became visible down the street. Relena took another calming breath as they rattled up the cobbled road to their destination. The first of the two carriages drew up and came to a halt at the end of the walk, and the footman hopped off the back to open the door for the passengers. The second carriage contained luggage...a _mountain_ of luggage.

The door opened, and out stepped a tall man in a white suit, with auburn hair, a charming smile, and rather peculiar eyebrows. He walked delicately up to the blonde girl he'd only seen once before, in an old photograph, and removed his white top hat gallantly. "Relena?"

In a heartbeat, the girl forgot all the well-rehearsed phrases appropriate to the occasion and simply said the first thing that entered her mind. "Welcome to London, Uncle Treize. It's wonderful to finally meet you!" She smiled warmly, knowing that it wasn't the most high-class thing to say, but it was enough.

"My dear Relena..." In a sweeping gesture, Treize opened his arms wide and embraced his darling niece, giving her a kiss on the top of her head. She brought her arms around his powerful frame, imagining for a moment that she was safe in her father's arms once again. Treize released her, pulled away a step, and tipped her petite face up to meet his. "How you've grown."

Relena couldn't help but blush. "I'm glad you're here. This house has been a bit of a trial since father passed away."

"Yes...I'm sorry I couldn't make the voyage in time for his funeral," Treize said, stepping back to the carriage, "but I hope I can partly make up for it with a bit of a gift." He gave her a sly smile and held a hand out to the carriage door; a shadow moved inside, and a slender arm snaked out to clasp his hand elegantly. The arm was followed by a young lady in a dusty rose dress, with long blonde hair, lighter than Relena's, and holding a beautiful white longhaired cat. She had the same peculiar eyebrows as Treize had.

May I present the Baroness Dorothea Catalonia," Treize announced in a stately voice. "She has come all the way from Italy to make a very important request of you."

The Baroness smiled sweetly, although to Heero's wandering eye, there was something oddly frightful about her face. Perhaps it was just the eyebrows... "It's a pleasure to meet you, your Ladyship," the girl said smoothly, fingering a gold necklace with seven pearls. "When I heard from your uncle about how difficult things must be for you, I simply insisted on joining him on his journey to see how you were."

"Oh, how thoughtful!" Relena squealed.

"And if there's no one presently occupying the position, I'd very much like to offer you my services as lady's maid." She scratched her cat affectionately under the chin. "That is, if you don't mind sharing me with Anna-Maria here..."

Relena could barely contain her excitement. Having a proper lady's maid would bump her up several rungs on the social ladder. "I would be most honoured, Madam Baroness, thank you!"

Another sweet smile graced the newcomer's features. "Please call me Dorothy, m'lady."

Heero flinched mentally. An Italian noblewoman with obviously high connections and stature, lowering herself to being lady's maid to a spoiled brat English teenager? Something about that sounded very wrong, but by the perfectly calm looks on everyone else's faces, Heero could tell that only he found it strange.

He mulled it over while more pleasantries were exchanged. As the servants were presented to the guests one by one, they each bowed or curtsied in turn. Duo was tempted to do both for a few laughs, but decided not to press his luck with the practical jokes until after dinner, at which time he knew his fate would be sealed anyway. Heero simply nodded politely to the Count with a very blank expression; the longer Treize went without knowing why Heero was there and who he worked for, the better. Confrontation was not an option, yet.

Otto, Relena, Treize and Dorothy all went inside to start the grand tour of the mansion, leaving the mountain of luggage to be tended to by those remaining. Duo and Quatre excused themselves from the extra labour and jogged quickly back to the kitchen. The chef had a great deal of work ahead of him before dinner...and Quatre had his own reasons for wanting to be indoors.

It took seven of them close to an hour to unload the carriages of the dozens of trunks and cases they held. As the reins cracked and the horses jostled back to life, pulling the carriages away, Heero was alone on the front lawn with Arthur and a few stray suitcases. He walked wearily up to the door, eager to get out of the midday sun, but had to stop when Arthur didn't automatically move out of the way. Heero looked up at him; the old man was staring across the street at something, and he did not look pleased.

Heero turned his head and followed Arthur's gaze. Across the street stood a young man in a peculiar uniform decorated with brass buttons and imperial crests, about Heero's age and height. He was leaning casually against a high stone wall with his arms folded and his legs crossed at the ankles...and his slanted asian eyes were aimed directly at Heero.

The butler was ready to set the suitcases down and answer this unspoken challenge, but Arthur stepped in between them before he got the chance, silently motioning for Heero to get back in the house. Both men sensed equally that the boy's presence across the street was not a friendly one, but only Arthur had the good sense to leave it alone for now. Keeping in mind that he had more important matters to attend to indoors, Heero was inclined to trust the older man's judgement. Locking eyes with the asian youth one last time, he went calmly through the front door with Arthur close behind.

The strange boy in the porter's uniform walked away without any fuss.

**********  
  


After dinner, Heero staggered from the little room off the dining area down to the kitchen, convinced that, judging by what he had just heard from Relena and her guests, he must have had too much to drink and wasn't hearing properly. When he reached the kitchen, he decided he must have hit his head and given himself a concussion as well. The kitchen was spotless.

All the other servants, minus Arthur who had gone back to his potting shed as usual, and minus Otto who was allowed to eat with the aristocrats, were seated lazily around the kitchen table in front of empty plates, showering the chef with praise. God only knew how, but dinner was a triumph.

"I kept telling them not to panic, but did they listen to me? Nooooooo," Duo crooned with a crooked grin.

"I still don't know how you did it," Quatre said in awe, "this place looked like a war zone a few hours ago!"

"This 'ere's the best food we've ever 'ad at Bridlewood, and I've been 'ere nigh on twenty years!" Elsie added enthusiastically.

"Oh, I agree, well done, m'boy," Doris chimed in. 

Duo flung his feet up on the table and laced his fingers together behind his head. "It was nothing, really. Just part of the magic that is me." He gave the maids a comic grin that sent them into another fit of laughter. Finally he turned his head away from the many admirers to look up at Heero, who had come to stand just off his right-hand side. "And what did the Count have to say for himself?"

Heero gripped the back of an empty chair, as if the words would knock him off his feet the moment they left his lips. "He said...that it was the by far the finest meal he'd had since he attended the Masterchef competitions in France six years ago." He felt dizzy, but didn't fall over.

News of the Count's approval sparked off a fresh round of compliments from the others, and Duo soaked them up like a sponge. Soon, however, it was time for everyone else to get back to work, and they all shuffled off to their own corners of the house, leaving the chef and the butler alone in the kitchen. Duo couldn't stop grinning.

Heero pulled out the chair and fell into it, hands raised in defeat. "Very well...I give up. How did you do it?"

Duo wouldn't have ordinarily revealed his culinary secrets to anyone, but for some inexplicable reason he felt driven to make Heero proud of him; that was his real motive for sitting through his nightly literacy lessons. "Well, I don't automatically trust recipes, y'see, there's too much room for stuff to go wrong by accident, I mean no set of ingredients is exactly alike, right? So I taste everything over and over while I'm working, that way I know it's turning out right." He folded his arms casually, waiting for a reaction.

It wasn't until then that another sharp chunk of reality struck Heero; the chef was the only one without a plate. "Is that all you've had for dinner? A few bites here and there while you were cooking?" That would explain why Duo had been living in the lap of luxury all this time without gaining any weight.

"Well, I've never had that much of an appetite, couldn't afford one where I grew up. 'Course everyone in the alleyways thought I was a bottomless pit, what with all the pies I stole...but at the most I'd have a slice for myself and leave the rest on the windowsill of the closest orphanage." Duo's eyes glazed over with a sad and faraway look, and the smile faded. "Guess it was my way of making up for the fact that I had to steal to survive. I didn't like it, but hey..."

Heero looked over the sad, thin figure next to him. The boy had a self-sacrificial quality about him quite unlike anything he'd previously witnessed in a man, and he seemed to trust Heero instinctively, more than anyone else in the house. It made him think, and soon he decided.

Without speaking, Heero rose and stood closer to the boy, who looked up at him questioningly. He reached down and shoved Duo's feet off the table, then walked over to the stove. Duo sat up straight and fiddled nervously with the end of his braid, wondering if he's said something to upset his teacher. Behind him, Heero took a clean plate out of the cupboard and dished out leftovers of the delicacies still sitting in various pots and casseroles on the stovetop.

He set the full plate, with a knife and a fork, in front of Duo and sat back down again. "Eat."

Duo blinked in surprise, so used to not enjoying the fruits of his labour that he thought himself completely unworthy of them. "Huh?"

"I'm sure you remember that I have another job besides this one. It's dangerous, but very important work that requires a sharp mind, sound concentration, and the ability to keep it a secret, especially from those under this very roof." Heero thought it over again quickly, one last time, but he was sure it was the right choice. "I can't have an assistant who's falling down from hunger all the time."

A bright smile appeared, and two amethyst eyes danced with excitement. "Assistant? ...me?"

Heero nodded once and let the information sink in. It could work, and he might actually need the help now that there were _two_ guests who seemed less than trustworthy. Jeffrhyss wouldn't approve, of course, but he didn't need to know about Duo any more than Duo needed to know about Jeffrhyss. Being a spy was all about keeping secrets.

He stayed at the braided boy's side until he'd cleaned his plate, and made the usual arrangements for his reading lesson later that night. Between the late dinner and nightfall, Heero was watching Treize closely according to instructions, but part of his mind was always away, drifting back to his violet-eyed assistant and wondering how much to tell him about his true purpose at Bridlewood.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


> _Next, in Episode Eight: A chance article in the morning newspaper puts Quatre in grave distress, causing him to reveal his secret to his friends, but can the rest of the household be trusted to know about his past or his uncertain future?_

...and if you think you know his secret, you're in for a shock, 'cuz I ain't lettin' him off as easy as just having a secret identity, OH no! =^_~= muahaha... Boy, some trip, huh? Duo doesn't eat _enough??_ =@_@= It could only happen here, folks! And that slip of paper with the five phrases on it...that won't become important until later, but remember where you saw it! =^_~= Now comes the hardest part, picking the date for the next episode...*looks at calendar* How about July 6th? Give everyone time to recover from late-night partying. *kusukusu* Oh, and the notes for Episode Six are up too! Baibai!


	8. Thicker Than Water

Listen up, Quat fans...today I'm throwing him in the path of a (figurative) oncoming train. =@_@= (**July 6th, 9:27pm** ...thanx to Silence for pointing out my spelling goof, it's fixed now. =^_^=)

Disclaimer: This year, for my birthday, I asked for omnipotent control over the five Gundam pilots contained herein, which I didn't think was too extravagant or outlandish. What did I get? A set of green plastic see-thru picnicware from Zellers. I hope my now-ex-boyfriend puts a little more thought into his next girlfriend's birthday gift. If you want to sue me for control of the picnicware, well, whatever floats yer boat, I guess... =P

**Suggested Font: Times New Roman**  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Eight: Thicker Than Water

> _"It is a melancholy truth that even great men have their poor relations." ~Charles Dickens_

July 6th, 1901

A rather uneventful week passed at the manor, to the delight of all but one of it's residents. The constrained, the anxious, the frustrated Heero Yuy had been watching Treize like a hawk for days and the man hadn't put a foot wrong, as it seemed. He appeared to be squeaky clean. _How utterly boring._

The possibility that Lord Jeffrhyss had targeted the wrong man, however, was out of the question. Treize would slip up sooner or later, and Heero would be waiting; he hoped rather urgently that it would happen as soon as possible, because after a solid month of dusting, sweeping, serving drinks and answering the door, Heero could literally feel the neurons in his brain beginning to atrophy.

Another hindrance had been the guests' staunch refusal to vacate their rooms for more than five minutes until they had sorted out their many belongings, making prowling around the guest suites rather difficult. This morning was turning out to be different, though; Treize and Dorothy had left their cozy little cocoon for an extended stretch of time during which Heero wasn't needed elsewhere. While they sat out on the back terrace sipping tea and reading the newspapers, Heero naturally took advantage of their absence, and went snooping.

He slipped into Treize's room first, second in beauty and luxury only to the master bedroom, which had laid vacant since Lord Peacecraft's passing. Velvet was the predominant theme; the curtains around the bed, the curtains over the windows, the upholstered chairs and footstools, the plush throw cushions...and the red velvet pajamas neatly folded on the bed, which Heero ignored with a sneer.

The Count's equally plush dressing gown lay in a heap on the floor. He didn't look like a messy person at first glance, but he was probably too used to servants picking up after him all the time. In a subservient gesture he hoped would never have to be repeated, Heero picked up the robe, honestly intending up hang it up where it belonged; a folded slip of paper fell out of the pocket as he did so.

Heero looked disappointed. _Spying on you offers no challenge whatsoever. You should be ashamed._ He picked up the paper and opened it, revealing a not entirely unexpected series of numbers. With high hopes that he'd stumbled upon a Swiss bank account or the combination to a safe, he dutifully copied the numbers down in a notebook and put the slip of paper back in the dressing gown pocket.

_Arthur's working out the front today...I can hide this in the cottage until tomorrow._

Since his eager assistant was getting better at reading, all clippings, letters, and notes of a sensitive nature that Heero didn't want Duo to see were no longer kept in their room, but stored in Arthur's cookie jar without his knowledge. Then, they were transferred to the old room over the pub on Heero's days off and locked securely away. So far, it had worked flawlessly.

Deciding to sneak out to the cottage after searching Dorothy's room, he scrounged around the room for a few minutes longer, then left quietly, finding nothing else of interest.

**********  
  


Three top representatives of the upper class sat out on the back terrace with their tea and scones, leisurely frittering away their time, as is the mark of all true aristocrats. Treize was studying one of the fine red roses Quatre had coaxed into blooming especially for Count's visit, and he complimented the gracious gardener as he passed by the group carrying a potted geranium.

Dorothy was sunning herself, tilting back and forth in an elegant white rocking chair, having deemed it too pretty to leave indoors. Anna-Maria was cuddled up in her lap and had purred herself to sleep to the sound of Relena reading tidbits from the society column of the newspaper.

"'The Earl of Doncaster has departed for a holiday in the palaces of India,'" she read, "'and is rumoured to be meeting his clandestine mistress in Morocco later this month.' Oh, how wonderfully scandalous!" It was the usual drivel and gossip that served as the black and white dagger that socialites stabbed each other in the back with on a regular basis. "'Lady Windermere of Shropshire held the season's most elegant gala yet to celebrate her daughter's upcoming marriage, with such guests as Bishop Flaherty of Dunblane, and Lord and Lady Eastman of Middlesborough in attendance.'"

Relena set the newspaper in her lap and stared up at the clouds with a prolonged sigh. "I wish we could attract people like that to our parties."

"Give it time, my dear, give it time," Treize reassured her, still gazing at the single red rose in his gloved hand. "With my help, the whole of Europe will be clamouring to get just a glimpse of you."

The girl brightened at the thought, and shivered with anticipation of what wondrous things her uncle could teach her. As she picked the newspaper up and went back to scanning the society column, Quatre brought more potted geraniums onto the terrace, to be housed in great stone planters all around them. Trowa came from the carriage house to help, and they both worked quietly behind her Ladyship, planting the pretty red and pink clusters in fresh soil.

Relena turned the page and came across something she found startling, something she just had to share. Her eyes widened and she leaned forward a bit in her white wicker chair, as if getting closer to the words would make them more believable. "Listen to this...'It is reported that thirty siblings in the far east stand to divide a fortune of several million pounds.' Thirty children in one family! Can you imagine?"

Quatre slowed his work and tilted his head to listen. A grim pallor crept across his face, and Trowa looked up at him with concern as he crouched over one of the ornate planters. Their eyes met briefly and Quatre turned away, rising to fetch another geranium.

Dorothy sniffed in distaste. "They must breed like rabbits there. How uncouth."

Relena ignored the remark and went on with her reading. "'Mr. Peter O'Shaughnessey of Whitehall Street was present in the city of Shaqra when the patriarch of the illustrious Winner family passed away of an apparent heart attack on the--'" A loud crash came from behind her. She jumped a few inches out of her chair and whirled around to see Quatre standing weakly where he had been working, with shards of broken pottery at his feet. "Good heavens!" she chided, "you nearly scared me to death! Whatever's the matter?"

Treize, Dorothy and Trowa were all looking at him now too, and the blond boy felt suddenly faint. His face was morbidly pale and his limbs were shaking badly. "I...I'm sorry, miss, it just...slipped out of my hands." He stooped quickly to gather up the broken pieces and geranium stems. Treize and Relena looked away, disinterested, but Dorothy was watching him very closely; only she had seen the look on his face while Relena was reading the article, and her wicked curiosity told her there must be a connection. She patted Anna-Maria behind the ears as her fiendish mind worked away.

Quatre gathered up an armload of shards and leaves with Trowa's help and darted limply behind the nearest hedge. The taller boy was at his side instantly, face stricken with worry, as he held his frail friend up by the shoulders. "Quatre, what is it? What's wrong? Are you sick?" he demanded in a concerned whisper.

The gardener was quivering and dropping bits of clay everywhere, about to fall over. "No, I...just get me inside, please!" he whimpered in a tiny, crackling voice. "Don't let the others see..."

Trowa made him drop the rest of what he was carrying, wound an arm underneath his shoulders, and half-carried him to the kitchen door, out of sight from the garden terrace. They stumbled down the steps together, sped straight past Duo, whose back was turned anyway, and finally made it through the hall to their stone-walled quarters, shutting the door behind them. Trowa sat Quatre down on his bed and touched a hand to his forehead, searching for traces of fever or other illness.

"Now, what's happened?" Trowa prodded gently. "Tell me..."

Quatre sputtered and choked inaudibly, as if struggling against a torrent of tears. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, a light rap at the door followed by a soft voice startled the pair of them. "Hello? Is everything okay in there?" Hilde's voice. She must have spotted them from across the hall and seen the state they were in.

Trowa looked at the sickly boy for permission to acknowledge the summons. He shook his head. "Ignore it, Trowa. She'll go away...I hope."

They listened quietly a few minutes more. The call repeated and the knocks grew louder, but eventually they disappeared. Hesitantly, the two boys turned back to one another...and suddenly a new knocking came, heavy and insistent. "Hey, Q-Man? Didja get stung by a bee or something?" Hilde had gone to fetch Duo. Drat.

Quatre looked feebly exasperated and waved towards the door. "Oh, let them in, then." He sank into the mattress while Trowa rose to open the door; in ran the worried pair, one covered in dust, the other covered in flour. They started chattering away, wanting to know what was wrong, and Trowa wasn't getting anywhere by telling them his friend had come down with a mild sunstroke.

Hilde sat down next to Quatre and held his hand comfortingly. "If something's upsetting you, maybe we can help. And if you're sick, Miss Relena will have to send for the doctor, so the whole house will know something's wrong anyway."

Still very pale, the trembling gardener looked at all their troubled faces; they were genuinely concerned for him, and out of the very least respect for his friends' happiness, he couldn't let them worry indefinitely. "Alright...but not here. Someone else might walk in on us, and I don't want anyone else to know."

The four of them tried to come up with a spot somewhere on the estate that was reasonably secure, but Duo was thinking especially hard. _My first real crisis since teaming up with Heero and he's not here...which means I get to handle this one myself. If I do a good job, maybe he'll buy me a bag of sweets from the corner shop!_ Duo licked his lips and whipped together a quick plan. "Arthur's painting the fence out front today, right? Why don't we hide out in the shed? Nobody else goes back there, not even to talk to the guy."

They agreed, and all three of Quatre's guardians helped him back down the hall, up the half-flight of stairs and out the door in a flash. His breathing was slightly laboured and he was clutching at his chest, but he managed to walk upright past the garden terrace, hoping not to rouse anyone's suspicion.

Treize and Relena didn't bother looking up at the group and went back to their leisure as soon as they passed. Dorothy, however, watched Quatre carefully out of the corner of her eye, her curiosity greatly piqued by the sight of his entourage. When they had gone, she counted to fifty, then rose and excused herself from the others 'to take a short walk.' Setting her sights on the fair-haired boy in the distance, she put Anna-Maria down on the ground gently, and followed him.

**********  
  


It took Heero three tries to make the lid of the cookie jar sit straight, as it was getting rather full with newspaper articles and bits of notepaper. He was very lucky indeed that Arthur didn't eat cookies, or he would have to switch to the even less-used coffee ground container, which was smaller than the cookie jar. With one last push, he jammed the contents further down the jar's throat and replaced the lid, shaking his head.

_Still not good enough. I'll have to find something bigger..._ He started poking around the kitchen, opening cupboards and drawers, looking for something Arthur probably wouldn't be using in the near future.

"There's a heavy-lidded toureen ye can use," a thick Scottish voice said behind Heero, making him spin around and draw his revolver in the wink of an eye. "Ah don' think we'll be needin' it until Christmas." Arthur stood on the other side of the kitchen, looking quite calm considering there was a presumably loaded weapon aimed at his chest.

"Mr. Dunnet," Heero said flatly. _First Duo sneaks out while I'm sleeping, and now Arthur somehow...am I getting soft living here? Am I losing my touch?_ He raised an eyebrow. "I obviously thought you were elsewhere."

Arthur hefted up a large, squarish metal tin with a worn label. "Ran out o' paint thinner." Nonplussed, he set the tin on the kitchen table and eyed the butler with his hands in his overall pockets. "Laddie, are ye gonna use that pistol, or are ye just holdin' it up for display purposes?"

Heero looked down at his right hand, which had grabbed at the weapon automatically. He really didn't want to eliminate Arthur; not only would he be breaking the promise he made to himself, but his cover could be blown wide open, and unless he pinned the crime on someone else, he would have to leave Bridlewood and the mission would be aborted. Far less loathsome was the option of simply trusting Arthur. He looked back up at the kindly carpenter, then slowly put the gun away.

Arthur strode easily into his sitting room and went back to his usual armchair, leaving behind a silent invitation for Heero to follow, as he did the first time they met. The butler stood between the carpenter and his red brick hearth, and they eyed each other with calculating glances. Arthur was first to break the silence.

"Ah suppose a gesture o' good faith on my part would be in order, seein' as how you're the one with the revolver," he said, taking his pipe off the little wooden coffee table. "I'll tell you something her Ladyship doesn't even know, if ye like. Since I know a bit about your secret now, it'd be only fair to trade."

Heero couldn't help but find that appealing; any chance of adding a secret to the treasure trove of underhanded information he carried around in his head was a potential asset to the mission. He sat down in the other armchair. "Go on."

Arthur lit his pipe and leaned back. "You needn't call me 'Mr. Dunnet' no more, for a start. Me real name's Arthur MacDougall, but the upper classes dinnae care one way or t'other what I'm called, so long as the work gets done. Ah came here thirty-five years ago, when Lord Peacecraft was just a wee little lad, and got meself a job as assistant groundskeeper. Mrs. MacDougall was the nanny and spent most of her time in the house." Having two armchairs suddenly made sense to Heero, but it was clear without being said that the poor man's wife had passed away some time ago.

"For the first several months, the family barely bothered to notice I was there," Arthur continued. "They'd keep askin' the other servants how things were getting fixed when there was no one there to fix 'em. 'Who plastered over the hole in the wall?' 'Arthur done it.'" A faint hint of a smile teased at Heero's lips as he saw how the carpenter got his name. "'Who sealed the crack in the goldfish pond?' 'Arthur done it.' 'Who cut down the stinging nettles from the back fence?' 'Arthur done it!'" The carpenter chuckled warmly. "After awhile, it just stuck. Even today I get the occasional letter from a past guest addressed to Mr. Dunnet."

Heero weighed carefully what he had been told. "An amusing story...but I hardly think it makes up for what you know about me...or what you _think_ you know."

"What I know," the carpenter said crisply, leaning forward in his chair, "is that when people think they're too good for ye, they'll talk right in front o' ye without payin' no mind to what they're sayin'...the result o' which I might have heard one or two things over the years that you might be interested in." He leaned back and watched the boy's hands tighten almost imperceptibly around the armrests of his chair.

Arthur took another puff of his pipe and set it down on his knee. "And I know you're watching Khushrenada, and aye, I think he bears watching too. I've been through all those articles you stuffed in me biscuit barrel, and I kin tell ye that they're only a fraction of the real story. The man's a villain, pure an' simple."

A pause followed, during which Heero calmly calculated the risks involved with taking Arthur into his confidence. Gaining the knowledge he possessed could make it necessary to reveal more about himself than was generally allowed by Lord Jeffrhyss' instructions. But then again, it could be worth it. "Name your price."

The carpenter leaned back and shrugged. "Price? What price? I'm old, I live simply, I've no children or granchildren to provide for...to put it plainly, I've no use for money." He looked over at his guest, one of the few people to take an interest in him for years, even a casual interest, and softened his voice a little. "Come and visit me now and then, that's all. Hardly anyone else bothers, except wee Quatre...he's almost like a grandson to me."

Heero relaxed considerably, comforted by the thought that his early, glowing impressions of Arthur had been correct. "I'd say we have a deal."

Arthur gave him a broad smile. "Then we might as well get started. I'll make us a pot of tea."

With that, the gray-haired Scotsman rose and went to the kitchen to put the kettle on. No sooner had he arrived there, than the front door to the cottage was pried open from the outside, and in ran a small mob of teenagers, one of whom looked weak and faint. They stumbled around in the unfamiliar surroundings looking for a place to put their feeble patient, until they found the empty armchair in the living room and lowered their charge lightly into it. It only took another moment for them to sense someone standing right next to them, having risen from his chair with his arms folded and his face drawn. They all stared.

"Uh...Heero! Eheh...didn't expect to see _you_ here...umm..." Duo sputtered.

Heero immediately crouched in front of the ailing Quatre and pulled up one of his eyelids methodically. He was white as a sheet and clutching at his chest. "What's wrong with him?" the butler demanded.

"We don't know," Hilde said sadly, "he hasn't told us yet...I mean, he was going to tell us..."

By now, Arthur had seen the terrible state the boy was in and rushed to his side without uttering a word. He located a soft footstool and propped Quatre's feet up on it, pressing a hand to his forehead.

Quatre looked at the crowd around him and tiredly decided he'd rather tell them all at once than look for another place to hide. "It's alright, Hilde...it's alright if they know too...I trust them." He struggled to sit upright as Arthur went to answer the whistling kettle. Trowa perched on one arm of the chair and propped his friend up. "But you all must swear to me that you will tell no one of this, ever."

They all nodded their assent and found places to sit as close as possible. Heero gave up his armchair to Hilde and found a piano bench instead, which Duo was quick to share with him. Arthur brought in a kitchen chair for himself, along with the teapot, from which he poured Quatre something to steady his nerves.

The gardener sipped the warm liquid, then braced himself against the five pairs of curious eyes before him. He turned to look up at Trowa first. "Trowa, do you remember the article in the newspaper that Relena was reading, before I..."

An emerald eye blinked, and the boy soon nodded. "It was an obituary for a very wealthy man with thirty children. Somewhere in the east, it sounded like."

Quatre looked down at his tea and nodded. "He was an Arab, like me. His wife passed away long ago, leaving him with twenty-nine daughters and only one son. He had a fantastic fortune and dozens of beautiful mansions all over the world...where I come from, the Winner family is legendary." The boy loosened the death grip on his shirt, letting his hand fall down into his lap. "He was my father."

Gentle gasps and softly spoken condolences floated in from the tiny circle, but Trowa noticed that they didn't help. Quatre was still staring trance-like at the floor, not even looking up to offer a brave smile, as he thought his friend would have done. He put a hand on his shoulder. "There's more...isn't there?"

Quatre looked at their puzzled faces and collected his thoughts. "It all started when I was a boy living in the desert with my father and sisters. We knew what it meant to belong to that family, that someday when father passed away, we would all share in his riches as dictated in his will. No one would be left out, and we would all be treated equally.

"That was before _he_ came...Hassan...the old teacher father was duped into appointing as his chief aide." Quatre's voice dripped with bitterness and contempt as he remembered the crafty intruder. "My guardian, Rashid, never trusted him. He said before Hassan came into our family he was nearly beheaded for stealing from the Aga Khan himself...but somehow he talked his way out of it. He set eyes upon my father's fortune and began manipulating him. Father grew ill in time...Rashid still suspects that Hassan was poisoning him, but what we _are_ sure of is that he somehow convinced father to rewrite his will."

Duo ran an agitated hand through his spiky bangs. "So...what, you don't stand to inherit _anything_ because of this guy?"

Quatre looked up with terror in his eyes and shook his head slowly. "Oh no...no, I'm perfectly eligible, but it's not the amount that worries me at all. It's the method." He swallowed, gripping the cup and saucer like a holy talisman. "According to my father's revised will, the recipient of his inheritance will be decided by way of a tontine."

Duo, Hilde and Trowa looked at each other in confusion; none of them had ever heard that word before, nor did they know what it meant...but Heero knew, and Arthur knew. The pair looked at Quatre with sadness, and their gazes eventually shifted to the floor. The others looked clueless.

"What's a tontine?" Hilde asked.

"It's like a contest," Quatre said in a shaky voice, "between me and all of my sisters. The last one of us to survive inherits everything."

The entire room was in shock. "It's monstrous, that's what it is, _monstrous!!_" Arthur shouted; nobody was surprised at the usually silent man's outburst.

"You haven't heard the worst of it!" Quatre mewed plaintively. "There's been no love lost between my sisters for a long time, as long as I can remember. None of them get along, and some of them hate each other! They've all been able to amass small fortunes of their own, and a lot of them have personal armies...they could start a war over there!"

"Oh, come on, they're really gonna start blowing each other away over a few thousand pounds?" Duo said in disbelief. "No family is like that!"

Quatre gave him a frosty look. "Duo, try a few _million_ pounds. In fact, try _several_ million. Father could have bought England outright if he wanted to, and besides...our family isn't really a family anymore. Rashid, and my personal guard, forty strong men who would die to protect me...they're my real family, the only ones who never stopped caring about me.

"The day I turned fourteen was the day father's new will came into effect. The day after, Rashid gathered together a few of my belongings and packed me off to England, to hide me. Relena doesn't know. Nobody knows except you five, and it's imperative that we keep it that way. Now that father's dead, you see...they'll be looking for me. Since I'm the only male hair, my claim on the inheritance is traditionally strong, even though I'm the youngest."

"Can't you just turn down the money?" Hilde begged, nearly in tears.

"It wouldn't matter to my sisters, they'd come for me anyway. I'd gladly give up everything to be left unharmed, but the will says once you're in, you're in till the end."

"But if you have forty soldiers at your disposal, why didn't they come with you?" Trowa asked. "They could have watched over you and protected you...why did they stay behind!?"

"They were father's guards long before they were mine, and their first duty is towards the family as a whole, which means they'll be fully occupied with keeping my sisters from killing each other. Taking them with me would only have drawn attention to myself anyway...instead I took a secret identity, but it won't hide me forever. Sooner or later...they'll come for me."

Heero was fuming inwardly at the horrendous circumstances, but he also cursed himself for threatening to use Quatre's secret against him the day they met, without even knowing what it was. _No wonder he was so afraid of me when I spoke to him in his own language. He must have thought I was sent by his sisters to find him._ He folded his arms resolutely. "Only if they can get past us."

Quatre looked up again. "Don't underestimate them, Heero. Even without their guards, they'd make formidable enemies." He gave an exasperated shrug at his own helplessness. "They're all _physically_ bigger than me, even. That's how I came up with my name, Sagheer...it means 'small.'"

Duo smirked to himself; Quatre wouldn't be so apprehensive about standing his ground if he knew Heero was armed and dangerous, but unfortunately, Duo couldn't tell him that. Instead, he opted for good old-fashioned confidence boosting. "Don't sweat it. If any freaky gals start hanging around wielding sabers and finger cymbals, we don't know you and we never saw you."

They all chimed in with words of encouragement, finally coaxing forth the tiny brave smile Trowa knew was hiding behind Quatre's fears. No plan was in place, save that they would all guard his secret closely, and keep an eye out for anyone suspicious. Everything about the boy made more sense now, from his unrivaled knowledge about money and the finer things in life, to his reluctance to be seen outside the house for any reason other than a direct order from her Ladyship. Gut-wrenching as it was, though, to let go of his inhibitions, Quatre found it strangely comforting to know that his new friends were all on his side and would look after him as if he was their brother instead.

Perhaps if the afternoon hadn't been so emotionally-charged already, Quatre's peculiar emotional sixth sense might have picked up on what was just outside the cottage, leaning against the wall next to the window. Dorothy ran her fingers through her long blonde tresses over and over, smiling to herself at what she had just heard.

_Well well well...the little gardener's a potential millionaire, is he? Not if his sisters get ahold of him first, it seems. Sounds like what he needs is a powerful ally with connections that matter, not a bunch of rag-tag servants from the cellar._ Her smile widened as she sauntered quietly back to the house with her fingers languidly hooked together behind her back. _Don't worry, little one, I'll keep you safe...for a price._

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


> _Next, in Episode Nine: The secret of the Winner Tontine is not as safe as Quatre had hoped, and as word slowly spreads, he's in more danger than he realizes. It's just one more worry for Heero, as he tries to train his new assistant amidst treachery and deception._

Evil...eeeeeviillllllll! *cackle* I do believe I get more sasdistic with each passing day. =^-^= And, er...I'm _very_ sorry if "Hassan" happens to be in the name of anyone reading this, I meant no disrespect...I just needed a name beginning with an "h" and Hussein would've been rather obvious, doncha think? Episode Nine will be here, let's see...lemmie try for July 12th. *crosses fingers* Baibai!


	9. Pride, Son of Ego

You should see the big poster I've got on my wall now. It has almost all the episodes plotted out between now and February. I have no life.

Disclaimer: This year, for my birthday, I asked for omnipotent control over the five Gundam pilots contained herein, which I didn't think was too extravagant or outlandish. What did I get? A set of green plastic see-thru picnicware from Zellers. I hope my now-ex-boyfriend puts a little more thought into his next girlfriend's birthday gift. If you want to sue me for control of the picnicware, well, whatever floats yer boat, I guess... =P

**Suggested Font: Times New Roman**  
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Episode Nine: Pride, Son of Ego

> _"Be careful what you wish for--you just might get it." ~Anonymous_

July 12th, 1901

Ever since his arrival, Relena had been sweetly nagging her Uncle Treize to teach her how to be a better hostess, as it was often a woman's hostessing skills which propelled her into social stardom. More than a little amused at her impatience, he promised to find her an upwardly mobile guest of the proper wealth bracket to have over for tea, someone for Relena to practice on.

Blissfully unsuspecting of the harsh lesson she was about to learn about having designs above her station, she wore her new summer gown into the front parlour, a light yellow chiffon embroidered with daffodills, and sat down opposite the piano. Fiddling with her hair again, she wondered who the surprise guest could be that Treize had found. He only described the person as 'suitable', and gave no name or other description.

At a few minutes past three, Treize sauntered into the parlour, glancing at his pocketwatch. He looked down at his fidgeting niece and smiled. "Nervous?"

Relena switched from twiddling with her hair to smoothing out her dress. "More anxious, really. Secrets drive me crazy! I can't wait to find out who it is!"

For the moment, luck was on her side; mere seconds after she spoke, the doorbell rang. Treize ducked his head out into the hall just as Heero was on his way to the front door. He snapped his fingers and called out haughtily. "Boy?"

Heero stopped dead in his tracks. Treize's superior tone of voice sent homicidal images through his brain. _I will not lose my temper. I will not lose my temper. I will not lose my temper._ He counted to ten and turned around. "Yes, sir?"

"The guest at the door has been invited to tea. My apologies for not informing the staff sooner, and would you kindly pass word along to the chef?"

There went Heero's plans of evaluating Duo's skills as a spy; he'd already waited all day for his assistant to finish perfecting his recipe for raspberry profiteroles, and now the afternoon would be shot making cakes and sandwiches for Treize's guest. "Certainly, sir." _This is turning out to be a productive day,_ Heero thought sarcastically. He continued on to the massive door in the east wall and pulled it open with a bitterly angry tug. Upon recognizing the guest, he froze once again.

"Why, look who it is! Has your mistress let you off your leash for the day, or shall we be seeing you at tea?" the guest chirped in a shrill, mocking voice.

Heero slumped a bit. _I will NOT lose my temper. I will NOT lose.....dammit._ "Right this way, m'lady," he answered as nicely as he was able, which at the moment, didn't amount to very much. His duty very much in mind, he led the guest down the hall to the front parlour, where she entered with a flourish, not bothering to wait for Heero to announce her properly.

Relena didn't even have time to get up from her chair and smile beams of sunshine at her test subject, and wouldn't have anyway, once she saw who it was. "...Lady Une?" She looked despairingly at her Uncle, the last person she ever imagined would betray her in such a vicious manner, but his eyes were already far away.

Once Lady Une and Count Khushrenada set eyes upon each other, they might as well have been all alone on a grassy hill in the middle of nowhere, oblivious to all except each other's presence. After what seemed like an eternity, Une gracefully offered a hand to the Count, and he bestowed a chaste, gentlemanly kiss upon the silken white glove. Their eyes met again, and a pocket of warmth separate from everyone else in the room surrounded them completely.

Une played a black lace fan with satin trim the same blue as her dress coquettishly over her face, smiling and perhaps even blushing. "So good to see you again, Lord Treize." The blonde girl by the piano rose and cleared her throat gently, sounding just a trifle petulant. "And Relena, _darling_, how mysteriously convenient are the tiny threads that bind us together!"

Treize looked back and forth between them with a surprised smile. "You two know each other?"

"Oh my, yes!" Une squealed. "We've run into one another on a number of occasions, her and I. Haven't we, my dear?"

_On far too many occasions,_ Relena thought, resisting the urge to throttle the woman right where she stood. "Yes indeed, m'lady."

"Well! Isn't it a small world?" Treize said quickly, preferring to dismiss the subject and stare at the dark-haired woman some more. They took their places around the ornate coffee table and exchanged pleasantries; Relena said all the right things at all the right times, and tried very hard to say them with a smile, but it was hideously painful to do so. While they chatted, Dorothy sailed in wearing a forest green tea gown and greeted the assembly, and even more meaningless pleasantries were handed out. It was perhaps the most boring and obligatory part of hostessing, but Relena fought hard at playing her part to perfection, all the while worrying that Treize was evaluating her every move.

Heero escaped the den of insincerity and fled to the kitchen to warn Duo that he had less than an hour to prepare a meal for four. He spent the time helping out a little, but mostly moping around the kitchen bored out of his skull, and yet when the little silver bell rang indicating the upstairs crowd was ready to eat, he dreaded the thought of actually having something to do, if that was all he could have. He trudged back up to the parlour like a zombie, and Duo couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

When Heero arrived with the rolling silver cart carrying the tea set and pastries, there was already a conversation in full swing. Treize and Lady Une were looking rather intensely at each other, but pleasantly so; Dorothy was examining the pair of them, and Relena just looked uncomfortable.

"...and so I hired him on the spot," Une said, "and I must say the arrangement has worked out beautifully. You wouldn't find a better hall porter in the whole of London, that much is certain. I _was_ lucky to find him," she proclaimed proudly.

Relena scowled. _I'm sure of that. He did work for my father at one time, you thieving wench._ She wished someone would turn the topic away from how many of her servants had been tempted by Lady Une's superior riches. Her eyes lit up when Heero arrived. He would save her from this dreary conversation, he had to!

"Although, I always liked that gentleman your father had, Relena, the stuffy one with the hawk's nose and saggy face," Une added, "what was his name again?"

Lady Peacecraft winced against the hurt-filled memories. "Do you mean Wagner, the butler?"

"Yes, that's the one!" Une exclaimed with glee. "All stiff and starchy and _so_ much fun to annoy! I loved the way he said 'Would _mawdam_ kindly step this way'," she said, imitating the man's deep, stately voice.

Treize nodded, rubbing his chin thoughtfuly. "Yes, Wagner...a good man. Very dedicated to his work, and a credit to his uniform."

Heero was listening the entire time, and Treize's statement made him falter slightly, and the cup of tea he was pouring nearly overflowed before he caught himself. Something about what the Count said didn't sit right with Heero, but he didn't have the time to analyze it just then.

"If I'm not prying, Miss Relena," Dorothy asked delicately, "why did you let Wagner go if he was that good?"

Relena knew that question was coming. "We didn't. He was very loyal to my father, and after his death, Wagner was simply too distraught to continue his work. He said he couldn't bear to live in this house anymore, so he left."

"How fortunate that you were able to find such a charming replacement," Une declared as Heero handed her a teacup and saucer. She gave the boy a teasingly sultry look designed to shake him, but it barely registered, and he turned right away to hand Dorothy a cup of tea as well.

Finally, a topic Relena had some interest in! Her eyes sparkled and she suddenly sprang to life. "Oh, but yes! Heero is by far one of the cleverest and most engaging of servants that's ever lived under this roof! He's just rich beyond anyone's dreams with hidden talents!"

While his back was turned and he arranged the sandwiches on silver trays, Heero cringed, praying that he hadn't slipped in saying something over the past six weeks that would damage him if she blabbed it in front of Treize. He half-turned towards her in mock humility. "Begging your Ladyship's pardon, but I'm sure there are much more interesting topics besides myself."

"Nonsense," Une interrupted, "all I've heard from my friends for the last week is 'Wimbledon this' and 'Wimbledon that'. I could do with something new and different." She leaned on the arm of the chair, propping up her head and smiling.

"Yes, Heero, don't be so modest!" Relena scolded. "He's very up on world events, he speaks _several_ languages, and you should see the ingenious thing he's done to the bell pull system! He's really a treasure!" She smiled venomously at Lady Une. _That's right, a treasure. I have him, and you don't._

"Really?" Treize drawled, looking the boy over anew. He hadn't really thought of him as a master dialectician, certainly not with his hair constantly falling in his eyes. The Count remembered thinking the boy's name was rather odd that day when they were introduced on the front walk, but until now, it had never been a point of interest. "Where are you from originally, Heero?"

Direct questions like that were a royal pain. He couldn't lie, because even though there were no official records of his existence anywhere in England, Treize had enough connections that he could probably find out his nationality easily. Not that it probably mattered. "Japan," Heero said helplessly.

"Oh, how exciting! Say something in Japanese!" Une begged.

The whites of his eyes grew exponentially, then he frowned stormclouds. _Oh God, here it comes. The inevitable linguistic sideshow starring Heero the Magnificent. Give me strength..._ "I would hardly know where to begin, m'lady," he answered, trying to hide his scorn for the meddling busybody.

Une was undaunted, determined to have her entertainment. "Say anything!" The brunette pulled on a venomous smile of her own, the one she wore when she was about to shame somebody, and aimed it directly at Relena. "Say 'She's a pretty girl'."

Heero both blessed and regretted the fact that he left his gun upstairs. Knowing full well what Lady Une was trying to do, he forced himself to swallow his pride and choke out the works, if only to humour the group before him. All their eyes were focused on him; better to be foolish now and disregarded later than be labelled antisocial and attract suspicion. "Kanjowa kawaii shoujo da," he managed.

Treize, Une, and Dorothy looked suitably impressed; Relena looked smug, pleased as punch to be showing off her newest toy to the woman she despised most. The underlying meaning of Une's choice of words had escaped her. "That's not all he can do, I distinctly heard him speak to my gardener in Arabic on the day he arrived, and he talks with the stable lad in Spanish, too!"

That did it. To Heero's ultimate dismay, the ladies began throwing random pointless phrases at him, demanding that he provide their equivalent in whatever language was desired of him. The trio giggled and cheered as they played with him, eating and drinking and enjoying themselves while the butler suffered one long stream of horrid indignities. And through it all, Treize simply watched.

Heero saw him at all times, out of the corner of his eye, watching, observing, thinking. The Count was absorbing every detail of the wretched display and cataloguing it away for future use, Heero could tell. As the party game continued, Treize's calculating expression slowly grew into a tiny smirk, and it was then that Heero realized his mission could be in jeopardy.

**********  
  


Partway through tea, Lady Une excused herself to the powder room to fix her face, and Dorothy opted to follow. Otto directed them to a prim little room with two identical patterned chairs facing two identical multi-drawer vanities with oak-framed mirrors. It was designed perfectly for the lady of the house and her maid to touch up their cosmetic applications before heading back, primped, fluffed, and ready to face the world again.

They each claimed a seat and began pulling compacts and other articles from their dainty handbags. Une set to work straight away patting down her nose and cheeks with a pale powder puff. "Quite a man, isn't he?"

Dorothy lightly attacked her eyelashes with a spiky black wand. "Indeed. Although, I probably haven't the in-depth personal knowledge you seem to have, otherwise my opinions of him would use much more flowery language."

Une raised an eyebrow, then smoothed it out with a tiny brush. "You're not his consort, then?"

"Oh, no, we're merely...business associates." Dorothy switched to a sterling silver pot of rouge and began tapping the powder on her cheeks. "But he seems to think _very_ fondly of you..."

"Did you know Count Khushrenada has proposed marriage to me on three separate occasions?" Une laughed as she pulled an elegant brush through her hair. "Of course I refused him each time, but affectionately so, and I've always secretly harboured it as a source of personal pride that I caught and held the eye of one of the most powerful men in Europe."

Dorothy took out her own exquisite hairbrush but paused with it in her hand, frowning at her reflection in the mirror. "Why do you say 'of course'? Weren't you the least bit tempted by his offer?"

With a faint sigh of regret, Une turned to face her new acquaintance. "Being tempted was hardly the issue. It has simply been my lifelong policy _not_ to be the weaker half of any partnership, romantic or otherwise. I have enormous wealth and influence by London standards, and there are hordes of common little plebs who would give their eye teeth to be in my position, but..." Her eyes showed a mix of envy and self-reproach as she weighed her options for what seemed like the millionth time. "My power can't compare to that of Lord Treize. I could never hope to approach him as an equal, or better, and since I refuse to lower myself below the status of any partner, least of all a man, well...how could I allow myself to marry him?"

Despite the self-important substance of her ego showing itself so plainly, there was a genuine sadness in the way she spoke, as of one witnessing an inner battle between principles and true love. Dorothy brushed through her light blonde tresses, thinking rapidly. "If you _did_ have money and power equal or greater to his, would you marry him?"

Une looked boldly at her reflection. "I would."

The fierce eyes of the Baroness Catalonia were alive with a devious fire, and she smiled at her own ingenuity. _I needn't worry about my influence not extending past Italy. She has more than enough influence for both of us...and for my plan, as well._ She turned to look Lady Une straight in the eye. "Suppose...just suppose, that there was an easy way for you to acquire a fortune ten times what you have now, and all you had to do was look after a meek little gardener while his entire family self-destructs?" She gave the older woman a sinister, challenging smile. "What would you say to that?"

Lady Une straightened in her chair and looked the youngster over, deciding after only a moment that they were most certainly on the same wavelength when it came to money and how to get it. "I'd say, 'tell me more'."

**********  
  


Nearly an hour later, the moment her Ladyship and the others had all emptied their cups of tea and their plates of pastries, Heero whisked the dishes away on the trolley, grateful for an excuse to escape Relena's chamber of horrors. He raced from the parlour to the kitchenette just off the dining room and whipped out his pen and notebook. His mental storage buffer was approaching the fill line, and he had only minutes to make a written record of the conversation he had just witnessed before it vanished from his memory. Pen in hand, he leaned his back against the wall and began writing furiously.

"Oi, Heero! Whatcha writin'?" came a voice from nearby.

With an inaudible groan, Heero looked up only to verify the identity of the trespasser. He didn't have time for this. "Go away."

Duo leaned against the doorframe with a contemptuous snort. "But you said today was for..." He struggled for just the right words to convey his meaning without giving anything away to any possible eavesdroppers. "...assistant lessons."

"Not now, Duo, I'm working." He could feel delicate trickles of disappointment fluttering across the room, and sighed slightly. "I'm sorry, but something came up. I couldn't help that." Every fifteen seconds, Heero filled a page of his notebook and flipped over to a fresh one, creating a smooth rhythm of pen scratches and paper crinkles that punctuated his statements.

More than a little annoyed, Duo walked right up to him and considered snatching the notebook out of his hands. "Do you _want_ a second-rate assistant who doesn't know what he's doing? 'Cause that's what you're gonna have if you don't let me get some practice in!"

"Practice some stealth and be quiet," Heero said, calmly but sternly.

Duo turned around dejectedly and slumped into a chair at the flimsy little table that served as the only dining surface. He'd hoped that being Heero's assistant, in whatever secret work he was doing, would allow him to spend more time with the boy, but instead of getting closer, Duo found himself being constantly pushed away. It was exceptionally frustrating the way Heero could sometimes seem vaguely warm and open, enough that they might actually become friends. _And then he smacks me in the head or yanks my braid and it's business as usual. He's a miserable excuse for a human being...at least, the part he lets people see._

Heero made every effort under the sun to keep Duo at a professional distance, but the very force of his life energy was so magnetic to the lonely American that he felt compelled to battle every one of Heero's obstacles for a chance to hover near him. Duo couldn't explain it, even to himself; it defied logic on one level, and seemed to make perfect sense to him on another. He decided that they shared the same inner fire that only the two of them could possibly understand; one of them had accepted that fire long ago and learned to find life in it's heat, while the other one, the one with the notebook and the stiff white collar, was in denial over it. _Who better than me to help him figure it out? It might be fun, too...._

Uncounted minutes passes, and Duo never realized he was staring until the blue-eyed object of his fixation started staring back. Heero gave him an aggravated sigh and put down his work. "You want something to do?"

Duo perked up, grinned, and saluted brightly. "Yes, sir!"

Heero nodded. "Measure all the rooms." He lifted the notebook once again and continued writing.

Duo looked from side to side, then back at Heero with a look that shouted 'what?' Heero sighed again and mimed stretching a measuring tape across the length and breadth of the kitchenette. Duo folded his arms. "You want me to measure all sixty-two rooms?"

"And bring the measurements to me, each clearly labelled with the room's name, and floor of the house," Heero dictated mechanically. He was back to looking intensely down at his notebook, watching the words nimbly dodge the distractions to land neatly on the page. "And once you've finished that, you can go look for the blueprints to the house. Try up in the attic."

Duo's eyes went wide and a little lopsided. He shook his head and banged a hand against one ear, trying to jar loose the offending bit of illogic. Finally, he slapped his knees and stood, looking straight up and letting out a slow, deep breath through his clenched teeth like a leaky balloon. "Let me get this straight," he said, taking prolonged steps towards his teacher. "You want me to run all over the house and measure all the rooms, _then_ go get the blueprints which undoubtedly have all the measurements on them _already_? In _that_ order!?" The boys were now standing only a few inches apart.

Heero looked up and raised an eyebrow. "Do you have a problem with your instructions?" When Duo failed to answer, the look turned to a glare.

Only mildly humbled, Duo backed off a bit, but he was still irritated. "No, no problem at all! Let's give the idiot Yankee some mindless busywork to keep him out of the way! Sure! Fine! Go measure all the rooms? You got it!" He swung around and stomped off angrily to find a measuring tape. "That's all I'm good for around here, isn't it, I cook and I clean and what thanks do I get..."

Heero allowed himself a miniscule grin as the chef's irate voice disappeared down the hall. Just as his hand began to cramp up from writing so much, he finished his transcript of the conversation between the aristocrats upstairs. Flipping through the white and blue leaves, he searched for that one exchange that was stabbling prickly hot needles into the back of his brain...and then he found it.

The butler looked over his notes, squinting. _Une and Relena were discussing their servants of past years when they mentioned Wagner, my predecessor. Treize said he was a good man and that he admired the fine effort he put into his work...but Treize has never visited Bridlewood before, at least that's what I've been led to believe. How then could he have known--_

His train of thought was derailed by a hand jabbing into his side, a hand holding one end of a measuring tape. He glared sharply at the owner, who was working his way down one wall of the kitchenette with the yard-long cloth tape stretched as far as it would go. It only just happened to be the same wall against which the butler was comfortably leaning. The chef turned his elven nose up at the butler and lowered his eyelids.

"Ex_cuse_ me, my good man, but I do believe you're in my way."

"Hn." Heero moved away from the wall and let Duo pass, trying to get his thoughts back into order. _He must have met Wagner at some point....perhaps before he was employed at Bridlewood. Treize doesn't strike me as the sort of man who would offer such high praise based strictly on hearsay, so they must have known each other. I should pay Mr. Wagner a visit, find out if he's ever been abroad--_

Heero felt something jab him in the back and jumped forward with a start. As if intentionally trying to piss him off, Duo was working on the second measurement by coming straight up through the center of the room and right into Heero, instead of measuring along the wall. He held the stretched-out tape perpendicular from the wall to where Heero had just been standing.

"You're in the way again," Duo sang.

Heero reached over quickly and gave the boy's braid a sharp tug, making him yelp and drop the tape. "Baka! Start in a different room!" He threw himself into a chair and stared down at his notes, trying to scrape together a bit of concentration.

Duo smiled at the back of Heero's head while he smoothed out his rumpled hair. Even when he was angry, the dark-haired boy gave off a captivating energy that Duo found...interesting. He was going to befriend the hot-headed youth if it destroyed the pair of them, and if he was very lucky indeed, he could show him what they were both truly made of at the same time. He would make it his life's mission.

_All because of that fabulous energy,_ Duo thought. _Can't you feel what's in your own veins? You're not suited for this kind of work if this is the state it leaves you in. I mean, just look at you...snarling...languishing...unfulfilled. You need to get your blood pumping, not sit there staring at your dumb notebook._

With a mischievous gleam in his amethyst eyes, Duo crept up behind Heero and leaned over him, with one hand on either side of him on the table, and his lips poised just behind his ear. He whispered huskily through the messy, earth-brown strands of hair tickling at the tip of his nose. "Don't you find life in this house a bit...bland?"

Heero looked up from his work with a fierce expression, but while the sensible part of his brain was telling him to slap Duo until he was no longer within reach, he couldn't seem to make his arm move to the task. Duo spoke the truth, but how did he know?

"I know this isn't what you're _really_ like," Duo purred, "taking orders from little girls, spying on rich folk and writing down your little notes there, serving tea and scouring the newspapers for God-knows-what..." Keeping his hands firmly on the table, he switched to Heero's other ear, breathing into it and watching the boy flinch before continuing his lecture. "You don't need to carry a gun just to do that, do you? I think you were hoping for something a little more _exciting_ out of life, weren't you? Something a little more..._dangerous_..."

Cursing himself immediately, Heero shivered. It was true. It was all true. He thought once he was released into the world, out of the expert 'care' of Lord Jeffrhyss, that life would get better somehow, but he was still just taking orders and doing the grunt work for his master. A drudge. A puppet. A slave.

Alarm bells went off in Heero's mind as he realized Duo was leaning over far enough to read the contents of his notebook; flustered, he slapped it closed. Duo turned around and bent to pick up the measuring tape, then reached over Heero's shoulder and dropped it in a heap over his hands.

"You see...I'd say neither one of us is suited to these menial tasks. We're more the swashbuckling adventurer type, but we're both stuck in this place because of our jobs, because of our weak human need for food and shelter, right? It doesn't mean we have to play the obedient chef and the humble butler _all_ the time, you know. There are...temporary alternatives."

Heero squinted in confusion, his back still turned to the raving looney behind him. _What does he mean, 'temporary alternatives'? And what's made him so bold all of a sudden? Has he been drinking?_

"I've been watching you, Heero. You're like a caged tiger being forced to live off lettuce and soggy bread. This tame, soft soap, double-pasteurized life isn't what you need," Duo hissed into his captive's startled ear. "You need _meat._"

Heero shut his eyes tightly. _Oh God, he's right, he right! I hate these meaningless chores, I hate these divisions of society I'm forced to live under, I hate it all! After what I've been trained to accomplish, I'm being wasted in this house!_ His azure eyes snapped open as the rational part of his brain struggled against the treachery of his own thoughts. To suggest that his place was not wherever Jeffrhyss chose to put him was to suggest that Jeffrhyss was wrong. Jeffrhyss could never be wrong. It was a mortal sin to even think it.

Letting his basic programming reassert control, Heero took a calming breath and glared straight ahead. "Get back to your work."

Duo smiled. "Whatever you say, boss," he said smoothly. He reached down and plucked the measuring tape up off the table, deliberately brushing his own hand against Heero's as he did so. Using every bit of his thief's skill of silence, he slipped out of the room for destinations unknown.

When Heero finally looked behind him to see that Duo was indeed gone, he let out a breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding. Running one of his still tingling hands through his hair, he detected a thin layer of moisture on his forehead, an unexpected phenomenon. He was sweating. Forgetting his once vitally-important notebook, he reached into his inside jacket pocket for a slip of paper containing the calming five-phrase mantra given to him by his master. He needed it after what had just transpired.

This Duo was _not_ the frightened little mouse who ran from the sight of Heero's revolver. No, something had changed in the boy; either that, or something was resurfacing that had always been there.

A taste for danger.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


> _Next, in Episode Ten: Heero takes time out from his mission to investigate the mysterious Mr. Wagner with Duo in tow, while Une and Dorothy approach Quatre with an offer he can't refuse._

Nya-ha-ha! What's Duo got in mind? Something exciting and dangerous, no doubt... =^_~= (No, not THAT, you hentai's! Patience!) Am I taking terrible liberties with Une's personality? Well, if I am, tough luck for her, because we need her character just the way it is. =P~ Are you liking this so far? I'm having LOADS of fun!! In fact I'm having so much fun I seem to be ignoring my other half-finished fics...um, heh. I'll make time, I promise. =^-^= So, shall we meet back here on July 18th? OK! Arigato!


	10. Reverse Psychology

=^-^= My little heart's about to bust wide open, so I had to take a minute out to thank all you wonderful people for reviewing and letting me know how much you enjoy my work. It really makes it all worthwhile, and I don't think it'd be half as much fun without all you great guys and gals supporting me. =D *hugs you all* Arigato!

Disclaimer: This year, for my birthday, I asked for omnipotent control over the five Gundam pilots contained herein, which I didn't think was too extravagant or outlandish. What did I get? A set of green plastic see-thru picnicware from Zellers. I hope my now-ex-boyfriend puts a little more thought into his next girlfriend's birthday gift. If you want to sue me for control of the picnicware, well, whatever floats yer boat, I guess... =P

**Suggested Font: Times New Roman**  
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Episode Ten: Reverse Psychology

> _"Alliance: In international politics, the union of two thieves who have their hands so deeply inserted in each other's pockets that they cannot separately plunder a third ." ~Ambrose Bierce_

July 18th, 1901

An overcast sky threatened the early morning hours with a light sprinkle, but so far the rain was holding off. A lone figure wearing an inexpensive suit with a leather bag slung over his shoulder was glad of that, because for some inexplicable reason, an umbrella wasn't a standard issue component of the British postman's uniform.

The figure was a slender boy, dressed as a carrier of the royal post, skillfully avoiding the _genuine_ carriers of the royal post, who might have suspected that he was a phony. He darted through light traffic on his way to an address on the paper in his pocket, shielding his bright purple eyes from the early morning sun.

He reached what he thought was the right house and pulled out the neatly-written address, doublechecking it. _Heero's writing looks so perfect...kinda like what I imagined schoolteachers' handwriting must be like._ He smiled warmly at the paper, recognizing and interpreting the symbols with little difficulty. Only a few weeks previous, he couldn't have done that.

With renewed confidence, he strode bravely up to the front door of the massive estate sprawled before him, and pulled on the equally massive knob for the doorbell with both hands. Moments after hearing the booming chimes, a short, spectacled man appeared.

"Y-yes?" the ferret-like man stammered?

"Good morning!" the phony postman said cheerily. "I hope you can help me, see, I've got a letter here for an address across town, but the addressee seems to have moved on." He held out the prefabricated letter written in the same tidy handwriting as the note in his pocket. "They were of the impression that someone here might know where he is now."

The short man took the letter, adjusted his smallish spectacles, and read the name. It was addressed to Mr. H. Wagner of Bridlewood Manor. He blinked rapidly, then called to someone inside the house; a maid appeared and was shown the envelope. The pretty brunette smiled. "Oh, that's Henry! We used to work t'gether in that 'ouse, until a few months ago."

The postman took the letter back and scratched at the back of his neck, tickled by the thick rope of hair jammed down the inside of his coat. "Do you know where I can find him? I can't just throw this away, and it's a felony to misdirect mail," he said with all seriousness mixed into a grin.

"Oh yes, he's a lodger in Highgate," the maid offered freely, "in a boarding house run by a Mrs. Brueghel. I'm not exactly sure where in Highgate it is, though, awfully sorry."

"Not at all, miss," the postman said with a cordial tip of his cap. "His Majesty's Royal Postal Service thanks you for your good citizenship!" Giving them a cheery wave, he walked down the perfectly manicured front walk, away from the fabulously opulent mansion belonging to Lady Une. Heero had been right; there were indeed former employees of Bridlewood working on this estate.

Duo rounded the nearest corner, tugging his braid out of his jacket and stuffing his cap in the leather shoulder bag, and made his way to the rendez-vous point. Heero was leaning against the alley wall with his eyes fixed firmly on his watch. On hearing Duo's footsteps stop next to him, he dropped it back in his waistcoat pocket and looked up, apparently satisfied with the amount of time his assistant used to complete his task.

"Did you get it?" Heero asked.

Duo nodded. "More or less. I've got a neighbourhood and his landlady's name to start from."

Heero nodded back. "Did Lady Une see you?"

"Don't think so, but then she wouldn't have recognized me anyway, right?"

"Right," Heero agreed. "We'd best be off, then."

They left the posh neighbourhood for the next best place in which to burn more of Heero's day off. The butler's precise, calculating mind was focused solely on finding the man Relena called Henry Wagner, but Duo's mind wandered far and wide during their journey. When their work was completed, Duo had to prepare a surprise lesson for his friend about drinking deeply from the cup of life, but the method of delivery continued to evade him. The problem would occupy his thoughts for most of the rest of the day.

**********  
  


Before leaving on his secret mission across town with Heero, Duo had the singularly perplexing task of choosing someone else to cook that day's meals. Instinctively, Quatre would have been his first choice, but after hearing about the danger he could be putting the boy in just by sending him out to buy the groceries, the chef was ready to hand the baton back to Elsie for the day. On the other hand, as Quatre pointed out to him, to stop living for fear of dying was the same as being dead already, and seeing as how he was feeling a bit better about things as a whole just from having friends around, he practically insisted that Duo appoint him deputy chef. And so he did.

Quatre was actually quite relieved to get out of the house for awhile, and felt much safer having Trowa tag along on his shopping trip. The cinnamon-haired boy clung to him like a second skin while they roamed the marketplace, glaring spitefully at any woman who stared at the tiny blond for too long.

When Quatre realized how many women were walking away from them at a rapid pace, he turned to his friend and scolded him lightly. "Trowa, when I see one of my sisters, I'll tell you."

Trowa's visible eye blinked in surprise. "Sisters?" He'd momentarily forgotten about the tontine and the threat his sisters posed, and yet he still felt uncomfortable whenever the young ladies turned their eyes towards Quatre, as they invariably did. He wasn't entirely sure why it bothered him. "I know, I'm sorry," he said, fighting back a faint blush. "I'm just being overprotective, aren't I?"

Quatre smiled. "It's alright. You're only doing it because you care." As the taller boy relaxed, Quatre felt more trickling waves of that pleasant, indescribable something he often sensed coming from his friend. He'd felt it before between other people, but never directed at him; he went back to his work, hoping he wasn't turning any redder than Trowa had.

Between the two of them, the grocery shopping was over fairly quickly, and just as well too, because the pale little Arabian was already worn out from walking so far through the marketplace. They piled their purchases at the side of the cobbled road, but just as they were about to flag down a carriage to take them home, Quatre gave a sharp gasp and clapped a hand to his head.

"I forgot! Duo asked me to get him a jar of golden syrup! He gave me some extra money besides the housekeeping because it wasn't on the shopping list," he said, digging through his pockets.

"You're too tired to go," Trowa retorted, "stay here and I'll get it." Quatre gave him Duo's money and watched him duck back into the crowded street. _I'm so lucky to have a friend like Trowa, he's constantly looking out for me,_ he thought, smiling. Waiting patiently next to the groceries, he watched the people come and go, happily thinking of the bazaars back home, when a woman's voice shook him from his reverie.

"Pardon me, young man," the voice said smoothly. Quatre hesitantly turned to face the woman, wishing Trowa hadn't left him after all. She was grandly dressed with dark brown hair and a seductive smile; she didn't seem familiar, so at least it wasn't one of his sisters.

Before he could even choke out a polite greeting, the woman's eyes went wide at the sight of him and she quickly grasped one of his hands and patted it lovingly. "Oh, you poor darling, it's even worse than they said! Why, look at you, there's hardly enough there to hold your clothes off the ground!"

Quatre blushed fiercely now. "Excuse me?" he yelped sharply.

The woman exhaled melodramatically. "Goodness, where are my manners? I visited your _lovely_ little home last week, but I don't believe we were properly introduced. You may call me Lady Une."

He had heard Relena speak of this woman several times, and it was never a happy occasion when she did. Nevertheless, he put himself quickly into lower-class subservient mode and bowed. "Begging your pardon, m'lady."

"Not at all," she said, looking him over. She let go of his hand and gripped his chin, turned his face this way and that, pulled down the lower lid of his eye and went 'tsk tsk tsk'. Quatre just stood there with a dumbfounded look, not knowing what was going on or what to do about it. She walked a full circle around the boy, shaking her head sadly, until she finally came to rest in front of him again. "Much worse than they said. Oh, how awful...you poor, poor thing..."

Quatre's eyes enlarged with slight fear. "What? Worse than what? Did I do something wrong? What are you talking about?"

Une shook her head. "No, no, I shouldn't have said anything!"

She turned to go, but Quatre caught her arm. "No, wait! Please tell me! Something's wrong, isn't there?"

Une wiped the smug little smirk off her face before turning around to look at the boy sympathetically. "Well, I suppose you might as well hear it from a friend of the family instead of some stranger in the road. Half the fashionable society of London knows you're terribly ill. 'Go look at Bridlewood's gardener', they all say, 'go see how thin and pale and sickly he looks! He's far too weak to be doing that sort of work, why, he'll be dead before he's thirty!' That's what they say, you poor boy..."

Quatre shook his head in disbelief. "But I'm not sick! I feel fine!"

"Of course, being so loyal to Lady Peacecraft and not wanting to disappoint her, you've cleverly tricked yourself into _thinking_ you feel fine, rather than admit she's working you into an early grave." As she continued her sad speech, Quatre looked at something over her shoulder, then resumed listening. "If only you could find another position somewhere else, some work that didn't require so much physical labour out of doors, then you might hope to prolong your life as much as possible."

Lady Une's eyes brightened as she seemed to have an idea that very instant. "Hang on a moment...I'm greatly in need of a clerk to help manage my accounts! It's indoor work and, I'm sure, much more suited to your tastes than weeding those scraggly old gardens! Would you possibly consider coming to work for me instead?" She gave him a sweet smile, but instead of returning it, Quatre looked over her shoulder again.

"Quatre is quite happy in his current position," a new voice said coolly. The brunette whirled around in shock to see a tall boy looking at her rather angrily with one emerald eye. "He doesn't want to leave."

"Who are you, his manager?" Une scoffed.

"No, he's my friend," Quatre piped up with a touch of annoyance. "And he's right, I don't want to leave Bridlewood."

Une folded her arms and began to show her temper a bit. "Not even for twice the money you're earning now? Not even to save your health!?"

"I should worry about saving your _own_ health if I were you," Trowa snapped, taking a step towards her. "He gave you his answer, and it was no! Now, clear off!"

The woman gaped as if he'd struck her across the face. "Well!" She stomped off down the street without looking at either of them, head held high. As soon as she was out of sight, Quatre exhaled sharply and clutched a hand to his chest, and Trowa stepped over the groceries to grip his shoulder.

"Are you alright?" he asked in a soft, worried tone.

Quatre was trembling. "She lied to me...she was trying to trick me into leaving. Why would she do a thing like that?"

"Subverting Miss Relena's staff is nothing new for her," Trowa growled.

"No...this felt different," Quatre said shakily. "She wants very badly to get me away from the house, desperately even! Is there no one else in all of London who could be her clerk of accounts except me?"

Trowa gazed furiously into the distance where Lady Une had disappeared, hefting the jar of golden syrup in his right hand. "If Duo didn't want this so badly, I'd've chucked it at the back of her head. And I _never_ miss."

Quatre was touched by his friend's sheltering nature, but at that moment he simply wanted to lie down with a cold cloth on his head until it was time to make lunch for the troops. He sighed deeply. "Take me home, Trowa, I'm awfully tired all of a sudden."

Trowa obediently fetched them a carriage for hire, inwardly cursing Relena for not allowing her own carriage off the property unless there was 'someone of importance' riding in it. Soon, the boys and the food were swiftly on their way back home, but neither could shake the feeling that something about the encounter with Lady Une was very, very wrong.

**********  
  


"Ten months!? Is that all?" Duo howled.

Heero twitched from the force of his partner's volume. "Relena told me Wagner was hired in March of last year. During tea with Lady Une, she said he left right after her father died." The pair were walking briskly down the streets of Highgate, having asked around and determined a probable location for Mrs. Brueghel's boarding house.

Duo adjusted the shoulder strap on his postman's bag and shook his head. "The way you said they were talking, I thought he'd been there _years_."

"Exactly. So what do we have?" Heero splayed one palm in front of him and tucked the little finger in with his other hand, counting off his points of debate. "Assumption number one: Wagner wasn't in service long enough to form a deep personal relationship with his employer that would make him too distraught to continue working." He tucked the next finger in. "Assumption number two: He and Treize knew each other either before or during his time as butler, as evidenced by the way Treize spoke of his abilities."

Duo leaned over and tucked the next finger in for him. "Assumption number three: Given the first two assumptions, there's every possibility that Wagner was up to no good and that Treize was in on it somehow."

Heero looked at him with surprise and raised an eyebrow. "Right."

Duo flashed him a sparkling white smile. "I'm not just a pretty face!"

His words made Heero's brow crinkle in confusion, but he forced his questions to the back of his mind, for there was work to be done. At long last, they reached what looked very much like the boarding house, from the description they had been given by the local townsfolk. Heero stood at the curb and looked up at the lace-covered windows of the Victorian three-storey house, to see if anyone was watching; he then went to the mailbox at the end of the walkway and pulled out the contents.

"Hey!" Duo shouted. "Tampering with the mail is a federal offense!"

"Lower your voice," Heero ordered with a scowl. He flipped through the letters, bills and postcards until he found what he was looking for. He read the address of one letter in particular, put on a tiny but triumphant grin, and held it up for Duo's perusal. "Heinrich Wagner," he said, pronoucing the 'W' as a 'V' in a thick German accent.

Duo shrugged. "So he's German. So what?"

"Perhaps nothing," Heero said, replacing the letters, "but the Count has strong ties to Germany. We'll see if it means anything or not." He led his partner up the front walk, shaded by tall trees, and rang the bell. "Let me do the talking."

The phony postman nodded silently as the door opened. A portly woman in a pale flowered dress, sour expression, and grey hair pulled into a bun appeared. She looked the visitors over and just stood there, expecting them to give her a reason for coming all that way to open the door.

Heero leaned forward a bit. "Frau Brueghel?"

The woman eyed him suspiciously. "Ja..."

"Herr Wagner, bitte," he said with perfect accent and inflections.

Mrs. Brueghel shook her head sharply. "Er ist nicht mehr hier," she said evenly. The door began to close.

Heero leaned forward and blocked the door open with one hand, glared at the woman, and tossed her a gold sovereign with the other hand. "Is he here _now?_"

She looked at the coin, turning it over; finally she slipped it into her apron pocket and opened the door for the boys. She pointed to the parlour and disappeared up the stairs. Once again, Duo was astonished at how freely Heero threw around his money, and how often it got him exactly what he wanted. They stood waiting in the parlour, but neither was content to stare at Mrs. Brueghel's many knickknacks in the shape of rabbits.

"What are you going to say to him?" Duo whispered.

"I'm going to offer him a job and not tell him what it is," Heero whispered back. "If he's just a butler, he'll assume I have a domestic position to fill and will react accordingly. If he's more than that, he'll play it cagey and try to trick me into revealing my hand, which, of course, I'm not about to do."

Duo thought about that for a moment; it seemed reasonable, but... "What if he accepts? You haven't got a job to give him."

Heero clasped his hands behind his back. "He won't accept. Rooms like this in such a posh area don't come cheap, and I doubt he's become independantly wealthy in the last five months. Either he's already working, or he has a benefactor paying his expenses."

Duo wandered in front of him and smiled knowingly. "A rich foreign benefactor with strong ties to Germany?"

Heero nodded, impressed at how quickly the braided idiot seemed to catch on to his line of thinking. He'd had his doubts about taking Duo on as his assistant, especially since the suggestion of it was made not by his intellect, but by something else inside him that he couldn't identify; but Duo was smarter than he chose to appear, a clever strategy in itself. _This just might work out after all,_ he thought, watching his assistant stroll to the window.

Duo's earlier words rang once again in his mind. _'I'm not just a pretty face!'_ Again Heero twitched. His eyes fell on the boy at the window, his face lowered and framed in profile by the bright pane of glass, as he reached down to playfully stroke the ears of one of the larger bunny ornaments. Heero studied that profile for several seconds, taking in the delicately fanned eyelashes, the pert, upturned nose, the pale lips curling into a slight smile, the pointed chin leading into a soft, graceful jawline...the same disobedient part of Heero's psyche that rebelled against his intellect by wanting Duo for an assistant in the first place was now telling him that his assistant was rather pleasing to look at. Heero twitched and looked away.

Mercifully, Mr. Wagner appeared at the door before Heero's brain had a chance to short-circuit. Duo looked up from the porcelain rabbit, and the trio stood there, sizing each other up. Mr. Wagner was indeed as Lady Une described him, stuffy and dour with a long, saggy face.

"Good afternoon," Wagner said cautiously. He spoke perfect English. "You wished to see me, mister..."

"Young," Heero said quickly, employing his default alias. He gestured towards Duo. "My associate, Mr. Wells."

Wagner nodded a greeting to each of them. "And what brings you to see me, Mr. Young?"

Heero walked over to stand squarely in front of him; feeling out of touch over by the window, Duo strode up swiftly to stand behind Heero and a little bit to his left. "There's some work I need done," Heero spoke confidantly, "and from all the names I was given, yours stood out as being most suitable."

Wagner's eyes narrowed. "What sort of work do you mean?"

"Nothing you haven't done before, and your recompense for the task is open to negotiation." Heero took another step forward, ever so slightly turning up the heat under the taller man. "I was given your name by a mutual acquaintance...Count Khushrenada."

Wagner straightened up to his full, imposing height and tilted his face up a bit. "I see. An interesting proposal, but I'm afraid, Mr. Young, that merely having a mutual acquaintance is insufficient motivation for me to leave my current post."

"Not even at double your original wage?" Heero asked sternly.

"I am..._retired_, Mr. Young. I have no immediate need for more work, and I am quite content with my financial situation," Wagner said with an increasingly caustic tone.

Duo had a thought, but remembering Heero's instruction to let him do the talking, he stepped forward, put a hand on his arm, and whispered in his ear instead. Heero paused, nodded, and turned back to the former butler. "Could you tell me who among your associates might be willing to take on the job? A name will do, an address if possible." _And whether you give me the name of a servant or a spy, I'll know all I need to know about you._

Wagner squared his shoulders and frowed at the pair of them. "No, I could not. Now if you please, it's nearly lunchtime, and I would despair of missing a meal for this rather pointless conversation." He stepped over to the bell pull and rang for Mrs. Brueghel. "Thank you for dropping by, Mr. Young, Mr. Wells," he said icily.

The portly woman returned at the parlour door, and the boys had no choice but to follow her out. They found themselves on the front step again, and the door was firmly shut behind them, followed by the sound of a lock being slid into place.

Duo blinked. "That was...strange..."

"Yes, it was," Heero said ponderously. "I have a feeling I'm not the first butler at Bridlewood to have an ulterior motive."

**********  
  


Quatre found it oddly relaxing to clean up after lunch; it helped take his mind off the abscence of Duo and Heero. They had said upon leaving that they weren't sure when they would be back, but it was nearly two o'clock and Quatre was beginning to worry nevertheless. He busied himself with putting away the clean dishes and didn't notice a pair of light footsteps entering the kitchen.

He set the plates upright in the dishrack and turned around to walk over to the stove, intending to fetch the tea kettle and rinse it out. Instead, he saw who had crept in, and froze. It was the Baroness Catalonia. "G-good afternoon, m'lady," he stammered. It was more than a little unusual that one of the aristocracy should lower themselves to visiting the basement staff at their work. "Is...anything the matter?"

Dorothy smiled sweetly at him. "I just wanted to commend you on turning out two absolutely _stunning_ meals on top of all your regular work," she cooed. "Relena told me all about how that shameless cad of a chef abandoned you here while he went gallivanting around town!"

"Oh, he didn't abandon me at all, m'lady," Quatre said, smiling back. "I was glad to do it."

The blonde girl walked around the kitchen table to stand right next to him. "Well, I think it's disgraceful, burdening you like that, _especially_ in your condition."

Quatre picked some teacups up off the table, letting his smile fall. _My condition? This sounds terribly familiar..._ "Whatever do you mean? I feel fine." He turned away and put the dishes in the sink.

Dorothy put on her sympathy face, even though he couldn't see it. "You needn't pretend with me, you sweet, caring, unselfish angel! I know how difficult it must be for you, doing all this cooking and the gardening as well...and I know how poorly you've been lately, particularly since you nearly collapsed in the garden the other day. Oh, if _only_ you didn't have to ruin your health like this, just to earn a living...if only you could find another position elsewhere that would be easier on your delicate constitution..."

Quatre propped his arms stiffly against the countertop, scowling. _She's at it too! What is with everyone today!?_ He took a deep breath to compose himself and turned around. "A desk job at Lady Une's estate, perhaps?"

His blatant honesty caught her off guard, and for a moment, she didn't know what to say. "I'm only thinking of what's best for you..."

Just then, Trowa entered by the back door, and Quatre decided to end the exchange quickly before his friend overheard them and lost his temper with the woman. "Thank you for your concern, m'lady. I promise to think it over carefully."

Apparently satisfied with his answer, she gave him one last smile, looked nervously at a glaring Trowa, and left the kitchen, treading gracefully up the stairs. Quatre slumped against the counter and sighed, bringing Trowa across the kitchen almost instantly. "What was that all about?" he asked excitedly.

Quatre rubbed his forehead. "She thinks I should go work for Lady Une too! They're trying to get me out of this house, both of them! I don't understand..."

Not knowing how else to comfort his friend, Trowa pulled the boy into a casual embrace, letting him rest his fair head on his shoulder. "Neither do I," he whispered into his feathery hair, "but they can't make you leave. Not if I have anything to say about it."

Quatre bit his lip. Something about this whole situation made him feel very uneasy. "I think we should tell Heero when he gets back. He'll know what to do."

Trowa thought about that for a second or two, then agreed. They both had reservations about trusting the butler when they first met him, but right now he was their best option. Something suspicious was going on.

**********  
  


Dorothy stormed through the halls on the main floor, ready to explode with each step. _He didn't even hear me out! He wasn't the least bit interested! Une must have blown it!_ She careened angrily around a corner and almost ran straight into Hilde.

"Out of my way!" the Baroness shouted, shoving the laundry maid aside brusquely. Hilde fell against the wall and cowered, clutching the stack of towels she was carrying tightly. She didn't move until the blonde woman was well out of sight, wondering what she could have possibly done to make her so irate.

"Good grief," Hilde muttered to herself. She moved away from the wall and resumed her walk towards the front hall stairs. As she passed the Chippendale table set against the least-used wall of the foyer, the telephone sitting on the table gave a loud ring. Seeing no one else around to answer the call, she set the towels down on the accompanying chair and picked up the phone, raising the speaker component to her face and the earpiece to her ear.

"Good afternoon, Bridlewood Manor, this is the maid speaking.......yes, he is. Whom shall I say is calling?" Hilde pulled the earpiece away and gave it a hurt look, suggesting that the person on the other end had given her a rather rude response. She lucked out in seeing Count Khushrenada emerging from the sitting room, and called out to him. "My Lord!"

The Count turned toward the voice and walked over to it, giving the petite brunette a charming smile. "Yes, dear?"

Hilde blushed and held out the earpiece. "Telephone for you, sir."

He took the phone from her and spoke into it, while Hilde gathered up her towels and scampered up the stairs to the guest rooms. As the Count listened to the frantic caller, his expression grew cold and distant. He listened to a first-hand account of the afternoon's events being delivered by a wild, frantic voice, followed by pleas for help that lapsed in and out of English.

Behind Treize, while his back was turned, the front door opened quietly and two slender figures slipped inside. One was laughing and joking in his usual manner, but the other silenced him quickly when he saw who was standing a few feet away.

Heero motioned for Duo to get behind him, and the chef complied without question. They listened to one half of the telephone conversation and realized that Treize was speaking in harsh yet muted tones to someone...and speaking in German.

_Shimatta! Wagner figured me out!_ Heero thought helplessly. _He must have been on the phone looking for Treize the moment we left. I could have handled this better...baka!_ He looked around for the nearest escape route, not wanting to chance opening the heavy front door again. He had just begun pushing Duo in the direction of the coat closet when Treize hung up the phone and turned around.

Turned and looked directly at them.

Duo froze. Once again Heero felt a hand clutching his arm, and he immediately regretted taking Duo along with him. _If Treize knows I've been snooping around, he's bound to think you're in on it too. I should never have put you in danger...I'm sorry._ He took a small sidestep protectively in front of Duo as Treize started walking towards them both, with no indication of his extreme displeasure save the frigid, blazing look in his eyes.

The Count strode up to them, pushing the pair backwards into the closed door with a glare mixing superiority and malevolence. He stopped just a few feet in front of them, towering over the boys like a huge, incensed monolith in a dark suit. His gaze travelled from Heero's eyes to Duo's, studying the violet orbs for traces of defiance. Seeing only fear and guilt, he moved back to Heero's strong, unwavering glare, concluding that he was the ringleader. For a bone-chilling eternity they stared each other down, the sound of the ticking grandfather clock in the sitting room magnifying itself to fill the entire front hall with ear-piercing knocks. Never taking his eyes off the diminuitive butler, the Count slowly swivelled to the right and walked away, until he vanished down the hall towards the south end of the house.

A warning, nothing more.

Duo exhaled, grabbed Heero's other arm so he had one in each hand, and shook him lightly from behind, laughing. "Oh man, did you see his _face?_ He looked like he was gonna rip your head off! Wow!"

Heero turned his head and gave him an astonished look. What in blue blazes was _he_ so happy about? _You obviously have no idea how dangerous Treize could be, or you wouldn't be so flippant about this._ "...hn. Let's get out of here."

With that, they jogged quickly in the opposite direction Treize had gone, to the servants' stairs and down to the kitchen. Heero knew all too painfully that he quite possibly had blown his cover, and endangered Duo as well; he also had a gut feeling that Wagner would be on the next train out of London and almost impossible to trace after that day. For that reason alone, he _knew_ Treize was up to something, or was covering something up, and that it could be more than what Jeffrhyss had sent him there to find.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


> _Next, in Episode Eleven: Trowa debates coming clean about his own checkered past to his troubled friend, in the hopes that it might bring comfort to them both. Duo issues a challenge to his teacher, and becomes the teacher himself as he is determined to make Heero understand his philosophy of living...but it's a harder lesson than it looks. Will it bring them closer to understanding, or drive them further apart?_

You know what? I make a big deal out of Duo's eyes being purple or a variation therof. You know what else? The official website says they're "cobalt blue". I say, "nuts to them" and I shall call them purple 'till the day they haul me off in the pretty white van. I happen to _like_ purple. =P So anyway, next episode...*looks at calendar*...I think I can crank out the next one by the 24th. *crosses fingers* I've never missed a deadline yet! =^-^=


	11. Spilling Drops of Courage

Hummm...I have been notified of a nice big honkin' truckload of spelling and grammatical errors in past chapters. *puts feet up on desk* I'll get around to them eventually. =P I also get a lot of people saying "Please do this" or "please don't do that" and I gotta hug you all and say _trust Mitsugi!_ She knows what she's doing! =^_^= I won't throw anything into the story for frivolous reasons, especially relationships. If people get together (and there's still no telling who will be with who) it'll have a good reason behind it. But I'm lovin' all this grrrreat feedback! *blows kisses*

Disclaimer: This year, for my birthday, I asked for omnipotent control over the five Gundam pilots contained herein, which I didn't think was too extravagant or outlandish. What did I get? A set of green plastic see-thru picnicware from Zellers. I hope my now-ex-boyfriend puts a little more thought into his next girlfriend's birthday gift. If you want to sue me for control of the picnicware, well, whatever floats yer boat, I guess... =P

**Suggested Font: Times New Roman**  
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Episode Eleven: Spilling Drops of Courage

> _"Bravery and stupidity go hand in hand." ~David Summers_

July 24th, 1901

_Ever since that run-in with the Baroness, and meeting Lady Une in the market, he can't relax. It was bad enough when he thought one of his mad sisters was going to jump out of the bushes at him, but now..._ Trowa looked despairingly at his ailing friend, wishing he could take away all his anxieties. As Quatre worked on the rose bushes in the front garden, he was constantly looking over his shoulder, tripping over roots, dropping the pruning shears and just generally looking nervous and uncomfortable. It was agonizing to watch.

Trowa had only been asked to help scrub down the front steps, but he felt certain he could do much more. After the fourth clumsy slip of the shears followed by Quatre's soft voice berating himself under his breath, the stable lad could stand it no longer. He rose to his feet, took Quatre gently by the arm and steered him towards the sheltered side of the house. "We need to talk."

He led the surprised boy far from the exposed front garden and heaved a sympathetic sigh, searching for just the right words. Quatre stood gaping at him, sincerely feeling the other's struggle as they both wiped their fevered brows in the cool shade. "What is it?" the gardener asked finally.

Trowa looked solemnly at his little friend. "I hate seeing you like this, constantly afraid, so worried someone might see you that you won't hardly set one foot outside," he said plaintively, "you can't live that way. I can see what it's doing to you...and I don't like it."

Quatre slumped against the wall, exhausted. True enough, all that worry was wearing him out. "I don't know what else to do," he whimpered, "I thought I was strong enough to ignore it and carry on, but I'm not..."

Just as wearily, Trowa leaned against the wall too, thinking. _If I have to choose which of our secrets to sacrifice...I'd rather it was mine._ "You don't necessarily have to be the strong one," he said quietly, "you could let someone else be strong for you instead."

Quatre turned his head and blinked in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I mean finding someone to protect you! Here in the house, out in the street, everywhere!" Trowa said excitedly, facing him with a strange fervour in his glass green eyes. "I'm talking about a bodyguard."

The gardener's face filled with shock. It was actually a marvellous idea, but was it feasible? He thought for a bit, then shook his head in resignation. "Trowa, I'm only wealthy on paper, you know. All I have are my wages from the manor. Even if Miss Relena would allow me to bring an armed guard into the house, I couldn't possibly afford to pay someone to follow me around every minute of the day."

"You wouldn't have to," Trowa said with a scared smile. There was no going back now. "I'll do it."

Again, he was met by a look of confusion. "You?"

The taller boy swallowed, suddenly feeling a bit nauseous. _Well, he doesn't seem displeased by the idea, at least..._ "It makes sense, doesn't it? I already live here, we share a room, we do most everything together as it is! I'd be perfect for the job!"

Now Quatre looked genuinely terrified. "I can't ask you to do that!" he hollered, his strength suddenly returning for a worthy cause. "You have no idea what my sisters are like! Some of them have trained for years waiting for an opportunity just like this, trained in combat and warfare! You can't hold them off with a...a...w-with a pitchfork and a riding crop!"

Trowa looked nervously to either side, then took Quatre's arm again and walked to the back of the house. Quatre followed patiently, knowing that Trowa never did anything without a good reason, and therefore whatever he had to say must be of grave importance. They walked quietly to the outermost edge of the property, not far from where Arthur was oiling and cleaning Lord Peacecraft's old collection of hunting rifles.

At last, far from any ears he didn't wish to be heard by, Trowa released the gardener's arm and ran a shaking, sweaty hand through his gravity-defying hair. "There's something about me you don't know."

To his relief, Quatre smiled. "I knew there was something, but not knowing what it was didn't bother me," he said softly. "I trust you."

Just that small reassurance lifted a great burden off Trowa's heart. It pained him to keep secrets from his best, and indeed only, friend in the world, and now he had a chance to atone. They went to the massive tree at the center of the back property line and sat down amongst it's gnarled roots. Trowa silently collected his thoughts and began to speak.

"Three years ago, I was living in Spain, on the shores of the Mediterranean. I was born there, but I never knew my family or where they disappeared to...instead, the Spanish navy raised me. I lived in the barracks of a drydock where the men built ships of war, and they taught me everything I could possibly need to know about sailing the open seas. For many years it was a wonderful time..."

Trowa's eyes glazed over for just a moment, then suddenly turned severe. "A new group of men came, pirates and cutthroats, the lot of them. They wanted me to grow up like them, instead of being one of the honest sailors, and they taught me how to shoot, how to fight, how to poison and deceive people...all the filthy, underhanded facets of their trade." He pulled his knees closer to his chest as his voice began dripping with bile and disgust. "I was _good_ at it.

"Then trouble started brewing across the Atlantic. The United States demanded that the Spanish vacate Cuba, and in the spring, three years ago, we declared war. I was only thirteen but tall for my age, an experienced mariner _and_ a fighter. I was too good to be left behind, but I didn't _want_ to go to war. The sailors said I couldn't turn my back on my country, the pirates told me not to run from a good fight...but I just couldn't go with them. I couldn't stand the thought of being sent out on the ocean, forced to kill hundreds of men I felt no malice for..." His voice crackled and heaved with the weight of his sorrow.

Quatre reached out and clutched the slim, tanned hand perched on the other boy's knee. This was the hidden pain he could only barely sense from his friend when he let his guard down. He cringed in sympathy, knowing that for a man of few words, letting such a deluge of emotion spill forth was a huge, but painful, step towards healing.

"I ran away, Quatre. I was never so ashamed as when I abandoned my countrymen," he said. "The war is long over, but I'm still afraid to go home, afraid I don't _have_ a home anymore after what I did. I'm a traitor and a coward!"

"No you're not!" Quatre cried, on the verge of tears. "You freely offered to defend me against my family, and watch over me all hours of the day..." He brought a pale hand to Trowa's flushed and quivering cheek, lifting his face up to look deep into his heartbroken eyes. "Those aren't the actions of a coward."

Trowa covered Quatre's tiny hand with his own, looking up into the glorious, astonished sunshine of true brotherhood revealed. _He isn't the least bit repulsed or disgusted by what I did...I told him, and it hasn't changed anything between us!_ He felt the cool, soft hand under his, as if just noticing it for the first time; perhaps something had changed between them, but if Trowa was honest with himself, it felt good.

He twisted around to face Quatre and took the small hand in both of his. "My point is," he said with urgency, "I have the skills to protect you, and I'm so much stronger than I used to be! I'm not your Rashid, and I'm certainly not forty men who can be everywhere at once, but your friendship and your happiness mean so much to me that they outweigh the danger. Quatre...let me do this for you."

Quatre blushed crimson and couldn't hold back a broad grin. "Well, I don't suppose I'll be able to change your mind."

"Not a chance," Trowa replied through a smile of his own.

"Are you really as good as you say?" Quatre asked, teasing him with a raised eyebrow. Trowa took that as a challenge and greeted it with open arms. With a sly little smirk, he rose and led his friend over to where Arthur was working on the rifles. A word or two later, and he had one of the slim, glistening machines hefted up on his shoulder and aimed over the back wall into the vast parkland that bordered the manor's property.

Trowa licked his lips and peered through the sights of the rifle. "See that birch tree way over there? The one with the sawed-off stump facing the house?"

Quatre leaned closer to him and looked over his shoulder at the sparse forest. "Yeah..."

"Watch."

As fate would have it, just as Trowa was levelling the rifle against the unsuspecting birch tree, Heero stood near an open window in the art gallery on the third floor, straightening pictures. Fate also arranged that he had been carrying his revolver all the time ever since the staring contest with Treize, and was half expecting the Count to shoot him in the back at the earliest opportunity. The net result of all this was that when the inevitable loud bang came from the back garden, Heero promptly spun around and shot an innocent vase on the mantlepiece.

A quick scan of the area revealed that Heero was all alone with a room full of art and one broken vase. He looked down the halls from each of the two doorways with his revolver at the ready, but saw no one. Next, he flew to the window, and upon seeing Trowa and Quatre playing with deadly firearms in the distance, beat his head against the wall and cursed his supreme idiocy. _A little jumpy today, Yuy?_

"What's going on in here?" a girl's voice cried.

Heero whirled around again, keeping the pistol behind his back. A very startled Hilde was standing in the doorway with her feather duster, fortunately not at an angle from which she could see the broken vase or the bullet hole in the wall. Heero pointed innocently to the window. "Shooting practice. Outside."

Hilde scrunched up her face and stammered. "B-but it sounded like it came from--"

"_Echo,_" he cut her off sharply. His tone and countenance were clear indicators that he had no desire to prolong the conversation.

"Oh," the maid said, sounding only partially convinced. She didn't flinch as the butler started walking towards her with one hand still behind his back, probably with the intention of shoving her back out into the hall. Before she was evicted from the gallery, she pulled a scrap of paper from her apron pocket and held it out to Heero. "Duo asked me to give you this, if I saw you before he did."

Heero took it wordlessly as she left, making a mental note to sweep the vase remnants into the coal scuttle later. _A note from Duo?_ Walking in front of the fireplace, bits of broken porcelain crunching under his shoes, he put the gun back into it's well-hidden shoulder holster and unfolded the note. He was surprised to find that his student's penmanship was actually improving, but even more perplexed by the actual words he had written:

> _Come and run with me  
Catch up with your life today  
Tiger will be fed_

He read the lines over and over again; it looked like a Haiku, but was Duo alert and conscientious enough to not only discover Heero's nationality, but also to actually research his culture? The thought that he might be genuinely interested in who Heero was as a person, or would have been, if not for a life's training to supress it, contented him somewhat.

There was more to the note besides the slighty cornball poem; he was given a set of precise instructions using bigger words than necessary, as if Duo wished to show off how well he paid attention during his reading lessons. Heero was to slip away immediately after dinner and take a carriage to a given address some distance from the city. He was also to exert himself as little as possible.

_Ridiculous,_ was his immediate reaction, but as the minutes ticked by and he stood in the same place, poring over the last five syllables of the poem, curiosity overwhelmed him. Heero was that weary tiger in the velvet-lined cage, and Duo had appointed himself zookeeper for the night...but to do what?

**********  
  


Duo apparently slipped out as soon as he finished eating, but Heero was held back by having to clear away the dishes from the dining room. The butler tried to work out how much of a head start the chef had gained by leaving early, as he hastily wrapped up his regular duties for the evening. After jogging up to the attic and changing into his street clothes, he bribed a few of the other servants to cover for him and sneaked out to secure transportation to the address in the note.

All the way to the edge of Surrey country, he sat in the hired carriage, staring at the same line of Duo's messy, discombobulated handwriting: _'Tiger will be fed.'_ He didn't know why, but it got to him.

The driver almost missed the drop-off point, but the spot Duo indicated was indeed there, miles from civilization, marked by a little wooden sign nailed to a tree trunk. Heero leapt out and instructed the driver to wait. It was a very peculiar place to be stopping for any reason, merely a farmer's field surrounded by treelines and hedgerows on all sides. He read the instructions again; far across the field was a thin spot in the trees where one could cross over from this field into the next. He hiked a good hundred yards or so towards the treeline, and as he grew nearer, he could see an old wooden fence intertwined with the greenery. Closer still, and a figure became visible, sitting on the fence and swinging his legs back and forth.

"What kept you?" the figure whined, flipping his braid over his shoulder.

"Hn." Heero watched as Duo jumped off on the other side of the fence, into the second field, and climbed over to follow him. He noted that the chef was wearing the old brown suit and tattered cap he'd worn the day Heero captured him in the alley after his last pie heist. "What did you drag me out here for?"

Duo took off his cap and hung it on a low tree branch, then began walking out into the field. "Just a little light exercise!" he chirped merrily, motioning for Heero to follow. "I hope you ate all your vegetables like a good boy, 'cause you're gonna be needing the energy!" the chef teased with an impish grin.

Heero rolled his eyes and stalked after him. Within minutes, they were at the approximate center of a very large grassy field, bathed in a faintly tangerine light from the setting sun. The air had turned comfortably cool, and a few birds twittering here and there made it a very relaxing scene. It made Heero realize what a foreign concept relaxation was to him. _Duo obviously wanted to show me something. Maybe this is it..._

"Okay!" Duo shouted, rubbing his hands together and facing his victim. "I want you to take a good look around and tell me what you see."

Heero scanned the horizon. "A field...in which we are probably trespassing, as evidenced by the stable and horses over there." He pointed to the end of the meadow to his right; there were indeed about three dozen horses grazing, and they had to belong to someone, logically.

Duo nodded. "Nice clean air, nature, wildlife, scenic vistas, soul-cleasing solitude, et cetera, et cetera. Beautiful, don't you think?"

"Get on with it."

Duo hung an arm around Heero's shoulders and smiled, ignoring his friend's impetuousness. "What we're gonna do, see, is we're going for a bit of a run." He slapped his own chest a few times, inhaling flamboyantly through his nose as he did so. "Clean out the old bellows, get the blood pumping, you know what I mean?"

Heero folded his arms and waited for the punchline.

"We'll be running from this spot here," Duo said, pointing to the grass at their feet, "all the way to that hedgerow at the end of the field there." He indicated the opposite end from where the horses were grazing, sensibly. "But there are a few ground rules. If you fall down or stop running, you lose. If you close your eyes at any time except to blink, you lose. And if you quit and run to either side instead of straight ahead to the trees, you also lose."

Heero squinted. _Why so many conditions?_ He eyed the boy suspiciously and unbuttoned his waistcoat in preparation for an easy sprint. "If you insist," he said, shaking his head.

"Oh no no wait!" Duo yelped quickly, halting him. "It's not time to run yet." Heero growled and looked up at the Almighty in a plea for the strength not to belt him one. Duo looked at the horses. "Actually, what time have you got?"

Heero looked at his pocket watch. "Eight o'clock exactly."

"Oh geez! Yeah, you'd better get ready to run." Duo took his position, leaning forward with his arms dangling, and looked over his shoulder at the horses again. Heero wondered why.

Just as he was about to ask what was so damn fascinating about those horses, Heero heard a distant, high-pitched clanging, remarkably similar in cadence and frequency to the alarm clock he'd bought Duo in a last-ditch effort to get him up in the mornings. The same clock that had gone missing from their room recently. The clanging was quickly followed by a series of loud, rapid snaps and bangs that sounded most unpleasantly like a string of firecrackers. Duo's smile grew.

Startled by the firecrackers, the entire herd of horses reared up in unison and took off galloping away from the noisy stables at breakneck speed, whinnying all the way. Puffs of smoke were rising behind them, making the hideous suggestion that the ex-thief had rigged a time-delay bomb and planted it stretegically on the property beforehand.

Heero turned on his companion, eyes wide, not wanting to believe it. "What did you do!?"

Duo smiled back. "You can start running now."

The ex-thief took off towards the hedgerow, his braid trailing out behind him. Heero looked at the massive clump of wild, spooked animals charging towards them and decided at that particular moment that Duo had the right idea. He ran after the boy and caught up with him easily, but couldn't spare enough breath to yell at him if he didn't want to fall behind. The horses' hoofbeats grew in ferocity behind them, like thunder rolling in at the beginning of the storm to end all storms. Quick as the boys were, the herd behind them was gaining ground, and they were barely halfway to the treeline.

Duo squeezed out a few shouts between hurried breaths as he ran, to make sure the rules were being obeyed. "Straight ahead...eyes open...or you _lose_, Heero!!"

It was a dare, now. Face being trampled to death without a hint of recoil, or bail out and never discover the next level of mental endurance. _You think I can't handle this?_ Heero thought, throwing Duo an unseen sneer, _just watch me!_ He picked up speed, feeling the crisp, cool wind in his face, whipping his already unruly dark hair into an even more tangled mess. His legs suddenly decided to start aching and his lungs were stinging from the frantic gasps for air, but it didn't register with him; he felt so alive at that moment, he scarcely noticed the first of the horses overtaking him.

Flashes of brown fur separated the boys, and their own ragged breathing was more than swallowed up by the roar of the hoofbeats filling their ears. The horses whinnyed and snorted, their eyes wild as they bumped and dodged the slow-moving humans. More than one of them jostled Heero as they passed, and he faltered, but would not fall down, would not let them by without earning the right directly from him. Only a few moments passed, and the entire herd was ahead of the boys, kicking dirt and grass in their faces at full gallop.

Heero's entire nervous system was soaked in adrenaline, and had just peaked, sensing the danger was over, when the herd reached the hedgerow, turned round, and started galloping back the other way. Most were running straight at him. _Shimatta..._

"Don't you _dare_ close your eyes!" he heard Duo scream.

Heero had no choice now, he _had_ to stare down the thrashing animals or let the braided twit get the better of him. Brashly defiant of the danger, the boys ran straight into the thundering herd, crosswinds colliding in a tornado of hot, sweat-saturated air, peppered with the soil of the meadow. They ran without taking another breath until their paths converged with the horses and somehow, by whatever grace or miracle followed on their heels, they lunged through the herd, closed the last few yards to the treeline unscathed, and collapsed into two coughing, choking, broken heaps on the grass.

The hoofbeats faded, replaced by the triumphant hoots and hollers of the chef, who lay on his back in the scraggly weeds, laughing raucously and punching the air directly above him. Heero looked over at him, also on his back in the grass, panting and wheezing, and was sure the boy had gone mad. Insanity, however, was not going to defend him from a slow, painful death. _Omae o korosu..._

They struggled to their feet, and Heero was just about to make a lunge for the throat when his victim threw his arms around him and spun them around in a wide circle. "Ha haaaaa!! We _made_ it! Woohoooooo! Doesn't it feel _great!?_"

Heero pushed him away and glared. "You _idiot!_ We could have been killed!!" He stormed off in a straight line towards the wooden fence.

"Dying's a lot trickier when you've already become the walking dead!" Duo called out after him.

_...walking dead..._ Heero stopped. The disobedient portion of his brain asked him why he was so angry. He wasn't injured, in fact he felt no pain whatsoever, and he hadn't really feared for his life because in the back of his mind he thought the horses would _probably_ avoid trampling them. At the most, he was only hyperventilating a bit. So what was the problem?

Duo used the pause in Heero's forward motion to step in front of him. "We're not going home until I'm absolutely _sure_ you understand," he snapped, still breathing heavily. "It's a rush, Heero...that's what I wanted you to feel. That's what keeps me going when every day feels exactly like the one before it, when I'm expected to lumber around the house like a mindless drone, always taking orders!"

Heero's brow knit with frustration, and his eyes took on a glazed look as if his inner programming was stuck in a feedback loop. Why was he angry? What Duo just put him through wasn't painful...it was _exhilirating_...but his body didn't know what to make of it. His heart was racing, his breathing had only barely slowed down even though he was standing still, and his nerves were charged with a strange electricity...but those symptoms were associated with anger, fear, and pain, were they not?

"When you chased me through that alley, and then the attic storeroom, and then when Treize caught us sneaking back in, every one of those times was this huge thrill, like the thrill I used to get running from the police after I'd just stolen something," Duo said breathlessly. "Not that I'm complaining about not having to steal anymore, hell no, it's great! But...being stuck in this routine...it's like my stomach's finally full, but my soul is starving." He took another large step towards Heero, grabbed him forcibly by the lapels and pulled himself close until they were only inches apart.

The braided boy's proximity reminded Heero of the other two times they had faced each other at such a small distance, with one important contrast...this time Duo was the one in control. He couldn't think of a thing to say, and just stared straight into the other's eyes with a severe case of brain fog.

"That's why I left that big dinner to the last minute! That's why I purposely overdose on coffee! I _need_ that pressure, that energy, that...that _rush_ to feel whole!" His hands left Heero's dusty lapels to land on his shoulders instead. Their noses were a mere hair's breadth apart. "And you're just like me, Heero, I can tell. You need it too. You _like_ it."

They were eyeing each other with almost predatory glares, as the concept slowly shifted into clarity, for both of them. Anger, fear, and pain were all Heero had ever known, all Jeffrhyss had given him. Duo had just presented a new option that was just as intense, only much more enticing. Heero took the hands off his shoulders and let them fall as he gave a scalding look to their owner, all traces of anger erased. "We'd better go find your clock before one of the horses steps on it."

He sidestepped Duo, completely calmed, and began the long trek to the stables. Duo turned and watching him walk away with a broad grin, knowing he'd made his point and that it was going to stick, no matter how Heero tried to hide it. _Don't worry, pal...I won't let either one of us starve._ He laughed and followed him, already thinking about the next lesson.

During the hike across the field, the occasional horse would look at Heero and snort; he would glare at it, and the subject was quickly closed. He found himself contemplating the scenery in a way he hadn't bothered to when he first arrived at the massive field. The sun was sinking futher below the treetops, and the sky was turning all shades of blue, purple, and crimson. It was surprising to him that he couldn't ever remember looking at a sky that colour, despite all the opportunities he'd had to do so over the years. His secretly rebellious side piped up once again and suggested that perhaps Duo's manufactured brush with death had something to do with it.

As his gaze wandered this way and that, he saw something out of place on the stretch of wooden fence where he found Duo. Sitting in the chef's place was a stranger, a boy dressed all in white with black hair pulled tightly away from his face. Heero stopped and looked more carefully; he knew this boy...from across the street when Treize arrived at the manor! His clothes were different, but the stern, Asian face was the same. Was he being followed?

The boy stared back at him menacingly, perched on the fence with one black slippered foot on the upper strut and one on the lower. Uneasiness trickled into Heero's consciousness as he immediately registered the intruder as a threat.

"Whatcha lookin' at?" Duo asked, just catching up to him.

Heero turned towards the voice out of instinct, then looked back at the fence. The boy was gone. Only Duo's cap remained, hanging on the tree branch where he left it. ".....nothing."

Duo brushed off the exchange and led Heero by the arm, cracking jokes and poking him playfully in the ribs with his elbow to see how long it would take him to start swatting back in self-defense. No more serious words were spoken between them that night, only frivolous clap-trap meant to fritter away the time, and only in one direction. After retrieving the clock and the cap, avoiding the eyes of the curious farmer, and burying the burnt-out shells of the firecrackers, they took Heero's carriage back to London in silence. For the first time since they met, it was a comfortable silence, for both of them.

  
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> _Next, in Episode Twelve: Treize makes it known to Heero that he's aware of the boy's snooping and gives him a single warning: Back off now, or face the consequences. Lucille becomes unwittingly entangled in Lord Jeffrhyss' web of deceit, just as his plans for Heero are about to change. Is there anyone on her side in the town of Cloverderry Glen?_

Yep, that's right, remember "Lucille"? Well, she's baaa-aaaack! And we'll meet someone new next episode! I hope everyone will be able to guess who it "really" is! =^_~= Ok, I'm on a very strict schedule for episodes until October, when I might catch a VERY short breather. Next one's on July 31st! See you then!


	12. Blessed Are The Meek

Praise the Lord! We're back in business! w00h00! That was, bar none, the longest I have not been able to access my control panel. *whew* I hate having to post this late because of server problems, but I've seen a lot of people reading this chapter on my website, so I guess it balances out in the end. =^_~= Ready to play "guess the new character"? =} *cackles evilly*

Disclaimer: This year, for my birthday, I asked for omnipotent control over the five Gundam pilots contained herein, which I didn't think was too extravagant or outlandish. What did I get? A set of green plastic see-thru picnicware from Zellers. I hope my now-ex-boyfriend puts a little more thought into his next girlfriend's birthday gift. If you want to sue me for control of the picnicware, well, whatever floats yer boat, I guess... =P

**Suggested Font: Times New Roman**  
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Episode Twelve: Blessed Are The Meek

> _"Hatred is the coward's revenge for being intimidated." ~George Bernard Shaw_

July 31st, 1901

Far to the north of London, the dark-haired stranger, Lucille, didn't have any trouble fitting in with the people of Cloverderry Glen. She made many friendly acquaintances while working in the general store and post office, and many of the townsfolk had taken to calling her 'Lucy'. She also enjoyed the priviledge of being quite often the first person to lay hands on the morning mail and remove any articles bearing her real name before anyone else could see them. She had already received two heartfelt notes from her secret love in Africa, and quickly written back to plead that he address them to her alias instead.

One morning in particular, while sorting through the post, Lucille came across a letter edged in black. She picked it up solemnly and studied the dark border with reverence and fear; someone had died. It was the sort of thing the army might send to the widow of a fallen soldier... _But he and I aren't married! And even if we were, how would his commanding officer know to find me here?_

Looking more closely, she saw that it was postmarked in America, and breathed a sigh of relief. No longer afraid to read the actual name on the envelope, she did so, and was filled with a new trepidation. The intended recipient was none other than Lord Jeffrhyss. No matter how often the bitter, mangled form of the man trudged into the shop, she couldn't get used to his presence, and liked it even less since Mrs. Trimble, the shopowner, had taken to leaving her on her own more often than not. Lucille set the letter aside, knowing that Lord Jeffrhyss would be stopping in for it later.

The morning passed quickly, and his Lordship never arrived. He invariably picked up his mail before ten in the morning, and it was nearly noon. When Mrs. Trimble popped in and learned of the unclaimed letter, her thinking was that his Lordship was too ill to walk all that distance, or perhaps simply unaware that the bleak message has arrived. Her advice, after reminding Lucille that tending to the royal post was a sacred trust between herself and the crown, was to deliver it to him in person, and she cheerfully volunteered to watch over the shop while she did.

Lucille's shoulders hung in defeat. There was probably no way out of it. She picked up the black-edged envelope, donned her straw sun hat, and set off down the country lane towards the old mill.

Along the way, her unfamiliar path took her past a field of sheep with a partially-crumbled stone wall, just tall enough for one to sit on and dangle one's feet off the ground. Seated just so on the wall was an old man in very poor clothes, clear spectacles, and a smouldering pipe in his hand, rested casually in his lap. Lucille thought he had quite the strangest hair she had ever seen, not in it's grey colour, but in it's shape. It billowed out messily from his face, making his head look like a giant mushroom. Between that and his long, protruding hawk nose and the quaint little pointed moustache under it, he had a rather comical appearance. _They say every village has an idiot,_ she couldn't stop herself from thinking with raised eyebrows, _maybe this is him._

She walked down the path without slowing, hoping that if he was indeed mad as a hatter, he would let her pass unmolested.

"Goin' t'see his Lordship, now, are we?" the mushroom-haired man called out in a thick English country village accent.

Lucille slowed, not yet ready to make eye contact. "Yes, sir...good morning to you." She kept on walking, stiff-necked with apprehension.

"...'e's not ill, is 'e?" the man continued in an obnoxious voice. "Only if 'e is, ye'd best steer clear in case it be catchin'!"

The woman stopped. She hadn't thought of that, and neither had Mrs. Trimble. Pure scientific curiosity made her turn back and walk over to the wall; she looked him in the eyes, wondering exactly what he knew that might help her prepare to meet Lord Jeffrhyss on his own turf. As Lucille gazed past the glare in the man's spectacles, she gasped--his silvery blue eyes were not the eyes of a madman, but seemed to glow with generous helpings of both wisdom and cunning.

While she stood mesmerzied by his gaze, mechanically clutching the covered basket containing Lord Jeffrhyss' letter, the mushroom-haired man reached out with his pipeless hand to grasp her arm, pulling her steadily closer. The scents of tobacco and wild goldenrod mixed in her nostrils to create an intoxicatingly rich perfume, which clouded her senses, stilling her of all movement as the man leaned forward to place his mouth beside her ear.

"If I don't see you back this way," he whispered, dropping all traces of the English accent, "I'll come down the path after you. Scream, and I'll be sure to hear you. Don't forget."

When he pulled away and released her arm, Lucille was trembling. _Come after me!? What does he intend to do? I should never have come alone..._ She forced herself to bravely meet his eyes once more, but behind those little round spectacles she saw no hint of malice; instead, his stare was guarding and dauntless...almost fatherly. _No...he's warning me...in case something happens while I'm with his Lordship. He'll come and find me if anything does. He'll make sure I'm alright._ Her gaze softened and she relaxed.

The mushroom-haired man smiled as he witnessed her achieve understanding. "Off ye go, now, t'make yer deliv'ry," he chirped pleasantly, putting the accent back on. "Mustn't keep 'is Lordship waiting." He went back to swinging his feet back and forth, and puffing on his pipe.

Lucille exhaled and smiled back with relief. "Thank you," she said breathlessly. As she continued down the path, the man began to sing a loud and silly song about an alleycat who fancied herself an opera star. _He just acts that way on purpose, so nobody will suspect him,_ Lucille concluded, _but suspect him of what? Who is he hiding from? He and Lord Jeffrhyss must know each other...perhaps it's him..._ Her natural curiosity and well-hidden bravery began to show through as she picked up speed heading towards the cottage by the old mill wheel.

The walk through the countryside did Lucille a world of good, as much as did the knowledge that there was someone in the village watching out for her. The woman's confidence bubbled over as she marched up the front walk to the neglected cottage and knocked on the door. While she waited, she looked around and wrinkled her nose as how tawdry and unkempt the property was; there were broken rocks and bits of rubble everywhere, and the windows were nearly completely blocked by tall weeds.

_How can anyone live in such a state? This is way beyond the limits of simple eccentricity, _she thought, giving the warped wooden door another firm knock. The vibration shook loose some flecks of grungy white paint that fell to the ground with a light clatter. No one came to answer the door. She took off her sun hat and fiddled with it nervously. _Maybe he's gone into town after all._ Curiosity flared within her, and without stopping to think, she turned the unlocked doorhandle and stepped inside.

It was dismally dark in the cottage, and what little light survived the trip past the weeds and through the window was swallowed by piles of clutter of every possible description. Despite the hideously dank mess all around, Lucille became aware of a faint orange glow coming from the far side of the room. Picking her way delicately through the debris, she came upon a stairwell leading down, and naturally followed it.

Her eyes widened upon discovering the cavernous chamber underneath the cottage, filled with every fantastic device and artifact Lucille could imagine. There were piles of books on every stick of furniture, maps and paintings covering every wall, models of machinery in various degrees of completion, and a treasure trove of cultural knick-knacks from all over the world. The glow of a single gaslamp illuminated evidence of the most incredible knowledge known to man, and much more that was probably unknown. In the corner, studying a massive book on a pedestal, was Lord Jeffrhyss.

"Welcome, Lucrezia," his Lordship greeted in a commanding voice.

The woman froze. _He knows my name!_ Panic gripped her as she contemplated dashing back up the stairs and out the door.

"Do you have something for me?" the old man asked, looking up from the heavy tome.

Shivering with fright but commanding her legs to ignore it, the brunette walked steadily forward, took the letter with the black stripe out of her basket, and held it out to him within easy reach. Lord Jeffrhyss regarded the envelope through his dark, eye-obscuring spectacles, and made a low grumbling noise. "Open it," he said.

The woman hesistated, then swallowed and obeyed, tearing the envelope delicately and pulling out a note on fine embossed paper. Again, she held it out to him.

Again he refused to take it. "Read it to me."

She sighed nervously. "My Lord, if this is something private--"

"May I call you Miss Noin?" his Lordship asked abruptly.

Noin shut her eyes and trembled. "Yes, if you like."

Nodding, Jeffrhyss moved out from behind the book and pedestal, and hobbled over to a rich red armchair on his peg legs. He sat facing a little table on which was set up a chessboard and pieces carved from exotic tropical woods, glowing in the warm lamplight. The pieces were not arranged as one side light and the other side dark, but seemed to be scattered randomly, so that even though the pieces appeared to sit in logical positions, it was impossible to tell which side was winning.

"Miss Noin," Jeffrhyss began, stroking his gray, pointed beard, "I have decided, upon learning your secret, that you _will_ be of some use to me. I know who you are and why you are here, therefore you have a vested interest in not displeasing me." He propped his hand and his hook up on the heavy cane between himself and the table, and studied the chess pieces before him. "Read it."

_...what choice do I have? I must do as he asks,_ Noin thought helplessly. With much hesitation she set the basket on the floor with her hat, opened the note, and began to read from it. "...'As a demonstration of my power, I have eliminated your operative in New York'," she spoke in a timid voice, looking up nervously every few words. "'It is clearly your own fault for not teaching the boy to better recognize when he is being followed. You shall probably find a way to carry out your plans for the Exposition, but at least I will have inconvenienced you greatly. For now, that is enough.'" She let her hands drop to her sides. "There's no signature."

Jeffrhyss' fingers twitched on the handle of his cane. "There was no need for one." He reached out and picked up one of the lighter-coloured chess pieces, a pawn, glanced at the underside, and then dropped it into a little ebony box at his feet, joining three or four other pieces or varying shades of brown. He rested the cane against a pile of books and leaned far back in his chair. "Take a letter, Miss Noin."

Her eyes widened. "I've done more than what I came to do already! Please, just let me go! Whatever it is you're involved with, I don't want any part of it!"

In one swift movement, Jeffrhyss took up his cane and swung it in a broad arc, slamming it into the legs of a tall table next to her. She jumped and squeaked involuntarily, and the world globe sitting on the table rotated ever so slowly from the sudden motion. The old man's voice turned cold as the winter wind. "Never forget that I know who you are, and never disobey me again."

Noin's heart raced from fright, and she turned ghostly pale as the man calmly set the cane back against the books. Her thoughts flew to the mushroom-haired man sitting on the stone wall. _I could scream. He said he'd hear me if I screamed._ For a moment she thought she would, but then remembered her secret love, her soldier in Africa. He wouldn't want her to give up in such a cowardly fashion. He would want her to be stronger than this. She _would_ be stronger than this. Noin calmed herself and steeled her gaze. _Play the game..._

"Take a letter, Miss Noin. I will address and sign it personally."

Giving him a strong, steady glare, she found paper and pen, and a writing tablet, and sat down opposite him.

Jeffrhyss leaned back and stared into space as he dictated the letter. "New instructions. Arrange transportation for yourself to New York City, arrival date September 5th. From time of departure, your new mission supercedes original instructions until completion. Detailed instructions will await you on arrival..."

As his Lordship spoke in even tones, giving Noin time to catch up writing between sentences, he reached forward to the chessboard and plucked a black pawn off of it. Glancing at the name written on the bottom, he placed it in a different position on the playing field, the spot recently vacated by the white pawn.

The London Operative was going on 'holiday'.

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Sitting on the terrace was out of the question, due to a steady drizzle that began around midmorning and showed no signs of easing up before it was too late to sit outside anyway. Instead, Relena had to be content wandering around the house with Dorothy, giggling and gabbing like old friends. Despite the overall grandeur of Bridlewood Manor, there was only so much to keep two energetic young ladies occupied before they had to resort to Relena's newer hobbies. Like Heero spotting.

Relena and Dorothy planted themselves in a corner of the impressively opulent ballroom on the second floor and rang for the butler. Her Ladyship then instructed him to carry out a long list of repairs, rearrangements, and general clean-ups on the room, just so she could watch him.

Heero recognized with no small amount of disgust that he was being used yet again, but he dutifully went about his work, feeling Relena's love-starved eyes following even his tiniest movements. He knew it was his own fault for leading her on occasionally, but business was business. Such was the burden of a high-class spy.

The girls kept their voices quite low even though a person almost had to shout to be heard across the vast room. "You're a knowledgeable, well-travelled woman, aren't you?" Relena asked her companion.

Dorothy fingered her hair in mock concentration. "I suppose so..."

Relena watched Heero polish the ornate brass frame of a wall mirror to a sparkling shine, unaware that Dorothy could follow her gaze easily. "What does one do to recapture a gentleman's...attentions, once he seems to be losing interest?"

Lady Une had already blabbed to Dorothy all about the girl's silly infatuation with her butler, but she quite tactfully pretended not to have any idea to which 'gentleman' her Ladyship was referring. "Are you being courted by someone I haven't met? Shame on you for keeping secrets!" Dorothy teased.

"Well, I'm not too sure, really," Relena said doubtfully, between gnawing on her lower lip. "I thought that...this person...had genuine affection for me, but he hasn't made any further advances for weeks." She could only recall two occasions when her alleged paramour had shown her any degree of warmth. The first was the day they met, when she gave him a place in her home and in her heart after only knowing him for a few minutes. The second was at Ascot, when he suddenly took great interest in her past and familial relations; the physical contact, however mild, was nice too. Other than that, Heero had been nothing but cooly professional and she couldn't understand why. "If it's another woman..."

"Now now, dear, let's not go accusing the boy of anything," Dorothy countered in a condescending tone. "While it's quite true that men of such a naive age can be fickle, I find most are just timid inside and need a little 'push' in the right direction. The trick is all in knowing _how_ to push."

Relena's eyes lit up with glee. "Would you teach me?"

Dorothy twisted a few golden strands around her finger and smiled to herself. _I might as well get some practice in, review the basics. Might be useful for pushing a certain young gardener into a career change._ "But of course, m'lady. I'll show you everything I know, and then you can try your new tricks out on him...whoever he might be." Her smile turned a bit crafty. _Well...perhaps not everything. I probably know much more than a delicate little flower like you can handle._

Looking away from Heero for the first time, Relena turned in her chair and gripped her friend's hand excitedly. "Would you really? Oh, that would be wonderful! When do you think I should...as it were, spring the trap?" she asked with as wicked a gleam as her innocent eyes could manage.

"We-ellll...didn't I see an invitation to the Lord Chamberlain's fancy dress ball? To Lady Peacecraft, plus 'guest'?" Dorothy cooed.

"Oh, that," Relena said, slightly saddened. "But I promised Uncle Treize he could escort me, and he's never been to a party in London before."

Dorothy squeezed her hand. "I'm sure he'd let you go with your gentleman friend, so long as you took Otto along as a chaperone. Besides, the Count might be invited by someone else anyway," she said, remembering being told by the gossipy postman of an identical invitation landing on Lady Une's doorstep.

Relena looked far across the room at the object of her affection, now shaking dust covers from little tables out the second floor window. The possibility of being taken to the prestigious ball by Heero of all people cheered her up immensely. She clasped her hands together and squirmed in her chair with delight. "Let's get started!"

"Alright," Dorothy said in her best schoolmistress voice. She took a mirrored compact out of her handbag and motioned for Relena to do the same. "Let's begin by practicing how to flutter those pretty eyelashes, shall we?"

The girls' conversation couldn't reach all the way to the other side of the ballroom, even taking into account Heero's excellent auditory sense, but every now and then they burst into a flood of tittering giggles that came through loud and clear. Each time they did, he would look up from his work with the uncomfortable notion that they were giggling about him somehow, and each time they confirmed his theory by freezing in mid-giggle when he looked at them, and resuming when he turned his back. It was most irritating.

Then, rushing in like the answer to an unspoken prayer, came Elsie. Heero had never been so relieved to see her and probably never would again. "Oi!" she yelled at him, entering through the doorway farthest from Relena. "Somebody's ringin' for you in th' front parlour!" She turned to go and spotted her Ladyship seated in the distance, looking rather peeved at her outburst. "Oh...beggin' yer pardon, m'lady." Elsie reddened and curtsied bashfully before leaving; Heero followed her out.

Elsie disappeared as quickly as she came, but Heero was just as glad that he didn't have to humble himself by thanking her for his rescue. He turned in the opposite direction only to be impaled on Otto's angry glare. The bear of a man was stationed outside the doorway closest to Relena and was probably near enough to hear what the girls were giggling about. By the look on his face, Heero guessed that his original assumption was sadly correct. He walked past Otto without making eye contact, but nevertheless noticed the man following him down the hall.

After hearing the way Relena spoke, Otto was ready to tear the butler in two. She never mentioned his name directly, but to him it was obvious. He followed Heero halfway to the stairs before a firm hand reached out from a random doorway and restrained him by the shoulder. Otto followed the hand down a well-dressed arm until he was looking into the curious face of Count Khushrenada.

"Otto," the Count said soothingly, "let me pour you a drink."

They let Heero escape down the stairs and wandered into Lord Peacecraft's personal lounge which, much like the rest of the house, was decorated with the finest furnishings available. Otto watched in bewilderment as the Count sat in his Lordship's favourite chair and doled out two glasses of his best whiskey. Treize pointed Otto genially to a lesser chair, which he hesitated before accepting, not used to being treated as an equal by the aristocracy.

Treize offered him a glass and smirked. "You're not terribly fond of young Master Yuy, are you?"

Otto took an appreciative swig of the liquor and frowned. "Time and again, I've _pleaded_ with her Ladyship to sack him, but she'll have none of it. I haven't trusted him from the moment I laid eyes on him, but she refuses to see what a mistake she's made by letting him stay!"

"I know exactly what you mean," the Count said smoothly. _Of course, I have too many other matters at stake to be worried about my niece's romances. If anything, I should be grateful if he married her and got her out of this house, just so long as they go._ He took a gulp from his own glass and ran a thumb along the shimmering rim. "The boy's a meddler, and probably a con man as well. The manor would be well rid of him."

Otto glowered at the wall, keeping a death grip on the whiskey glass. "I have an awful feeling that Miss Relena will _never_ let him go, and I've no say in the matter whatsoever. I don't know what he's been saying to her behind my back, but she's besotted with him. Utterly infatuated! It makes me _ill_..." He tipped the glass back and drained it dry, wincing as the pungent liquid seared his throat on the way down.

Treize held the finely-cut crystal tumbler before his eyes, taking in the rainbow sparkles thrown off by the multifaceted pattern. "Would you agree that it would be in the entire manor's best interests," he purred in a low voice, "if a way could be found to get rid of the troublesome Mr. Yuy? Permanently?"

Startled by the suggestion, Otto suddenly relaxed his hold on the whiskey glass, and it tumbled to the carpet. Nearly a minute ticked by while he processed the Count's subtle yet very tempting offer. Slowly, he smiled. "What do you need me to do?"

**********  
  


Heero entered the front parlour expecting to have been summoned by Treize, the only person 'worthy' to touch the bell pull whom he hadn't seen a moment ago on the second floor. Instead, he found Duo, thoroughly enjoying one of the plush chairs with his feet up on the coffee table and a bundle of papers in his lap.

"Do you know how much trouble you could get into for ringing that?" Heero asked snidely, pointing to the bell pull.

Duo smiled brightly. "In trouble with who? You're my supervisor!" He kicked his feet off the table and stood, clutching the papers with one hand. "Besides, I could find trouble like that _really_ addictive." He walked past Heero and poked him playfully in the ribs on his way out, flashing him an even wider grin.

Heero flinched and looked over his shoulder at the chestnut braid swinging back and forth as the boy strode out of the parlour. It took him several second to snap out of the trance and follow him. "I take it you have something for me?"

"Yep," Duo replied, handing him the papers as they walked. "I just finished those room measurements you wanted."

Heero took the papers and looked surprised. From the way his assistant had reacted to the suggestion, he wasn't certain wasn't he'd actually do what was asked of him. "And the blueprints?"

"Waiting in our room upstairs. Ready to have a look at them?"

The butler weighed that against the option of going back to the ballroom and being ogled at some more. "Good idea." He navigated his way to the back of the house to the servants' stairs, avoiding being seen in case Relena started asking the other servants where her precious had disappeared to. Duo followed without question.

They slipped up the stairs and into their room, then shut the door tightly behind them. The blueprints of Bridlewood Manor were very large sheets of vellum and bond paper that were too big for the writing desk and too tidy to put on the floor, so Duo had spread the thick roll out on his bed, leaving room for them to sit on either side of it. Removing their shoes, Heero sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed, and Duo leaned against the headboard, hugging his pillow and eagerly waiting for Heero to tell him he'd done a good job.

Immediately, the butler was studying Duo's calculations and comparing them to the blueprints. Duo's curiosity swelled from the silence, and he leaned forward to look them over as well. "I ended up measuring the attic anyway, since it was in the blueprints, but the page for the cellar was missing," he said.

Heero nodded. "That's alright...all concrete in the cellar anyway..." His voice was thin and distant as he pored over the numbers, one set neat and precise, the other set messy, crinkled, and dotted with doodles of flowers and smiley-faces.

Confusion began mingling with curiosity. "What exactly are you looking for?" Duo asked.

Looking up briefly, Heero decided it was probably safe to tell him; this was a bit of a side-venture anyway, and wasn't directly related to Lord Jeffrhyss or his true mission in London. He looked back down at the blueprints. "Something in those letters I was reading between the Count and Lord Peacecraft...they made allusions to minor renovations done on parts of the house, either before his Lordship's family took possession of the estate or soon after."

It was Duo's turn to look surprised. "Miss Relena's family weren't the original owners?"

"Apparently not. Their traditional home is in Hampshire, and this house was a new acquisition in 1856, before Lord Peacecraft was born. Almost immediately, his parents called in contractors for general repairs, but they were working much longer than one would expect just to fix a few...._ahhhh_...." Heero's voice and gaze grew intense as he saw something suspicious in the numbers, just what he was hoping to find.

Duo leaned in closer and tossed the pillow on the other bed. "What? What?"

Heero pointed triumphantly at a room on the blueprints. The billiard room. "See this? The width of this room is a perfect match, eighteen feet, four inches. The _length_ is given on the blueprints as thirty-two feet, six inches. Your measurement is thirty feet even."

Duo slumped back against the headboard and hung his head a little. Even his braid seemed to droop sadly. "Oh...sorry."

"No no, that's good!" Heero exclaimed with a shake of his head.

"....it is?" the chef squeaked.

Heero nodded firmly. "It means that there's two and a half feet of space between the wall of the billiard room and the wall of the lounge that's unaccounted for."

"Like a secret passage!?" Duo yelped with excitement.

"Or simply a good place to hide something."

"Whoa..." Duo suddenly had new respect for the house he'd wormed his way into out of desperation. A thousand and one mysteries could be taking place under that roof, and he couldn't wait to unravel them all.

Heero started rolling the blueprints back up into a tube. He opted to examine them more carefully later, in case there were more hidden niches to be found; the initial results of his investigation were better than he had hoped, but of course with his busy schedule, he never would have found the time to take all the measurements by himself. He stood up, slipped his shoes back on, and gave his assistant the reward he was waiting for with such sincere loyalty. "Well done, Duo."

The chef beamed.

"Even though you missed a room."

Duo sat straight up, looking shocked and disappointed in himself. "Awww, you're kidding! What room? Where?"

"Just the nursery," Heero said nonchalantly. He stowed the blueprints and Duo's measurements under his bed, then grabbed the tape measure off the writing desk. "It's alright, I'll do it. It'll only take a minute."

Duo smiled in relief that his teacher wasn't angry at him for his mistake. He leaned back again, stretching his legs out on the bed with a creak and a little yawn. "Thanks, buddy!"

Heero nodded and left, jogging lightly down the stairs to the third floor, thinking. Duo was forming a rather odd attachment to him, but at least he didn't make a huge production out of it, the way Relena did. As he made his way to the nursery, Heero offhandedly wondered if it was a strange gratitude for Duo's sense of decorum that deterred him from rejecting the boy's friendship, as any good spy should have done.

The third floor appeared to be empty, but Heero had been too well trained not to notice a second presence close by. There was someone tailing him; the footsteps were less obvious than the intruder's deep, cavernous breathing, narrowing it down to just two logical possibilites--Otto and Treize. He knew neither of them was foolish enough to do away with him while the house was full of people, though he still carried his revolver for emergencies. Whoever it was probably just wanted a 'quiet word', and Heero made the tactical decision to let them have it. He stepped into the dusty, neglected nursery, moved a few paces away from the door, and waited.

He didn't have very long to wait. Only seconds later, the door to the nursery was slammed shut. A large, heavy hand closed quickly around Heero's arm, and he was yanked backwards, spun around, and slammed into the wall. His attacker's other hand gripped the front of his shirt, near the throat, daring the butler to make a move and be strangled with his own cravat tie. The lights were off and the blinds were down, but he knew it was Treize just the same.

The Count stared down at his captive, mildly let down that he didn't appear frightened or even surprised. They locked eyes, each waiting for the other to flinch. Treize set his jaw. "I hear that you've been getting rather..._cozy_ with my niece, Mr. Yuy. Frankly, I couldn't care less what you children do in your private moments, although I think it's only fair to let you know that Otto is ready to string you up from the roof of the gazebo."

Heero showed no reaction. This was nothing new to him, Otto had it in for the boy from day one. He stared straight back in silence.

The Count tightened his grip on Heero's shirt. "What _I_ take _severe_ exception to is vicious, obtrusive, muckraking, bile-swilling gutter snakes like you and your little friend meddling in my affairs." His pleasant smile turned into a crooked sneer laced with spite. "Have anything to say for yourself?"

Heero raised an eyebrow. "My compliments on your Lordship's vocabulary."

Treize pulled Heero violently away from the wall and slammed the boy's small frame harder against it. Heero wanted very badly to shoot him right between the eyes just then, but it sounded as if Treize thought he was just a nosy kid who wasn't working for anyone, and if he wanted to keep it that way, he couldn't let the Count know he was armed. To protect his master's identity, he took the cruel abuse without complaining.

"Listen to me, you snivelling, spineless, two-faced weasel," Treize hissed an inch away from Heero's face, "you get one warning and one warning _only._ Keep yourself and your braided playmate out of my business, and if your witless, simpering, adolescent brains can't handle the complexity of leaving myself and my associates alone, I firmly suggest that _you especially_ get far away from this house while you are still able. Do we understand each other?"

Undaunted, Heero continued to look him bravely in the eye. "What I do in my spare time is _not_ open to debate. If I see merit in continuing my investigation, I _will_ do so."

Treize released him, backed away, and straightened the sleeves of his own suit. "Fine. I am a sporting man, as well as a gentleman, Mr. Yuy. I've given you a fair chance." He walked slowly to the door and turned the handle. "What happens now is your own responsibility." With that, he opened the door and left.

Heero smoothed out the fresh wrinkles in his uniform. _Just one more complication..._ He had to feel self-congratulatory for not revealing the name of his real employer, but now he felt a little concerned for Duo's safety; Treize's threat extended to him as well. He knew very well that the secrecy of his mission had to be maintained even at the cost of his _own_ health and well-being, but how could he risk another, especially when the boy had no idea what he was being put in danger for?

There were two easily identifiable options: tell Duo everything and let him decide whether to continue as his assistant, or break all ties with him, without a word of explanation. He didn't relish either choice. Unwilling to face the dilemma, something that didn't happen to him very often, he pushed it to the back of his mind and calmly went back to the task at hand--measuring the walls of the nursery.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


> _Next, in Episode Thirteen: Heero meets a suffragette on a street corner, and finds something decidedly peculiar about her, while Duo strikes up an instant rapport. Dorothy pours some sugar on her favourite gardener, hoping to make him change his mind about Lady Une's offer, and a second lesson in "carpe diem" is given to the hungry tiger in the dead of night._

You might be surprised to see Treize throw his weight around like that, after building up a widespread reputation for finesse, but finesse isn't worth anything if there's nobody there to see it, and to him, Heero is exactly nobody. And who's that mushroom-haired guy? *winkwink* I don't think I make these puzzles too difficult... =^_~= I'm glad a lot of you were able to get to this chapter on my website while FFN was down; remember, any time I can't deliver an episode here when I say I will, you can find it at the MitsuGallery! =^_~= Now...mark August 5th on your calendars--it'll be tight, but I think I can deliver Episode Thirteen by then!


	13. A Higher Perspective

My beta reader humbly suggested that all readers who don't live in or near London would benefit greatly from looking at [**this picture**][1] before continuing to read this episode. =^_~= This has one of the craziest stunts ever pulled off in a fic yet. Boggles my mind just thinking about it...

Disclaimer: This year, for my birthday, I asked for omnipotent control over the five Gundam pilots contained herein, which I didn't think was too extravagant or outlandish. What did I get? A set of green plastic see-thru picnicware from Zellers. I hope my now-ex-boyfriend puts a little more thought into his next girlfriend's birthday gift. If you want to sue me for control of the picnicware, well, whatever floats yer boat, I guess... =P

**Suggested Font: Times New Roman**  
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Episode Thirteen: A Higher Perspective

> _"The follies which a man regrets most in his life are those which he didn't commit when he had the opportunity." ~Helen Rowland_

August 5th, 1901

The hours between breakfast and lunch were spent on a impromptu shopping trip, inspired by Heero's plan of making practical use of the hidden niches buried in the blueprints of Bridlewood Manor. He had discovered no less than a dozen spots in the house that could be secret passages or nooks that had been covered up for nearly fifty years, and had a mind to try converting one or two of these into his own personal storage spaces.

To do this, however, he needed some specific small tools and hardware, necessesitating a venture into town, and Duo was only too happy to tag along. Any excuse to get out of the kitchen. Plus, it gave him the opportunity to discuss something with Heero.

"Frankly, I'm a little bit jealous," he said, pouting and fiddling with the end of his braid. "You talk to Trowa in Spanish, you talk to Quatre in...in...whatever it is _he_ speaks, and then there was that German landlady the other day. If you want to say anything to anybody in secret, you can do it, and nobody else will know what you're talking about, but you can't do it with me, and I'm supposed to be your assistant!" He shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and kicked stones as they walked down the busy street full of shops. "I just feel left out, that's all..."

Heero was only partially listening, the rest of his concentration being focused on his shopping list and where to fill it. "Hn. What do you expect _me_ to do about it?"

"I want you to teach me another language!" Duo exclaimed. "Then we can do all that covert communication stuff like in 'The Adventure of the Greek Interpreter'!"

Heero blinked, then realized what Duo was talking about and rolled his eyes. During his search for the blueprints in the attic, the chef had stumbled upon a few boxes filled with back issues of the Strand Magazine, between six and twelve years old, and had been devouring the fanciful stories of Sherlock Holmes at an alarming rate ever since. When he came across a word on the faded pages that he didn't know, he even had the good sense to try the dictionary before bothering his roommate for the definition. Discovering the possibility of secret passages in the house only got Duo more fired up, and he fancied himself and his partner to be the 20th-century reincarnations of Holmes and Watson.

Nevertheless, enthusiasm and a vivid imagination were hardly an excuse for Heero to waste his valuable time trying to teach Duo a second language he might never use, especially since he hadn't yet mastered his _own_ language.

Heero's silence only got on the chef's nerves. "Come _on!_ This is a good idea! What if we were captured by the enemy and had to plan our escape under their very noses, huh?"

The butler sighed and tried to ignore him, shuffling through a basket of brass door hinges outside a repair shop. _Why did I agree to take him along?_ While he picked out some fixtures, rivets, nuts and bolts, Duo slithered up to his left ear.

"You're not purposely trying to keep me dumb so I'll be easier to control, are you?"

Heero released another prolonged sigh. "I think your detective stories are making you paranoid."

Duo thought about that and shrugged. After another minute or two of boredly staring at the ordinary street bustling with countless mid-morning shoppers, he decided to switch tactics. He leaned in closer to his partner's ear, until they were almost touching. "Say you'll teach me Japanese, and I'll take you on another little adventure tonight," he purred.

Heero nearly dropped the bag of hardware he was carrying to the till. Duo congratulated himself. _Ha! Got him on his adrenaline addiction and his national pride! I am so happening!_ Within moments, Heero had regained his senses and walked away from Duo to pay for his miscellaneous bits of metal, but they both knew the suggestion shook him on a fundemental level. When he turned around, the silent question was pasted across Duo's innocent smile--'Well?'

"I'll think about it," Heero said defensively.

"That's all I ask," Duo said, "and no horses this time, I promise."

They let the subject drop while visiting a few more shops and collecting more bits and pieces, like combination locks and squarish plates of heavy grey metal. As they began making their way through the next city block to look for some ingredients Duo wanted for that night's dinner, a strange commotion caught their attention.

A young woman in a fern green dress was standing on a streetcorner with an armful of leaflets, which she was eagerly handing out to passers-by. She demonstrated all the hot, fiery energy hinted at by her strawberry blonde hair, which was swept up in a fetching, puffy style under her feathered hat.

As the leaflets were circulated, the women in the street generally read them with great interest, while a few old men here and there merely laughed. The blonde woman stood her ground, pontificating at the scoffers without a trace of apprehension.

"Speak up now and end this patriarchal tyranny! Support votes for women! Do it for your daughters, your sisters, and even your mothers! Let all who share in the work, share in the responsibility!" There wasn't very much in the way of a crowd surrounding her, but she was certainly drawing the lion's share of the attention on that particular corner.

Duo poked Heero in the arm. "Should we take the long way home?" he asked. Whether his paranoia really was getting the better of him, or he just preferred to avoid confrontation, Heero couldn't tell.

"There's no need," the butler answered, walking straight into the fray on the strength that his glare alone would deter any of the hecklers from trying to strike up a conversation.

As they passed through the sparse crowd, the glare seemed to be working, as people tended to back away from the pair and let them pass rather quickly. Suddenly, the blonde woman turned around, spotted Heero's stern expression, and interpreted it as opposition to her holy cause. "You sir!" she shouted, closing the distance between them in two steps. "Can you honestly say, with your hand on your heart, that the Empire would suffer detriment from allowing women their rightful voice in government?"

The crowd seemed to close in on Heero a little, eager to hear the answer of someone so young and presumably untainted by propaganda from either side of the debate. Fixed especially firmly on his eyes were the eyes of the suffragette in the green dress, standing patiently with one hand on her hip. She seemed to have a strange natural immunity to Heero's glare.

He had very stupidly trapped himself into this by not following Duo's suggestion, and the only way to vindicate himself was not to take the easy way out and simply walk away. "It is reasonable to presume that the percentage of women who know what they're doing is equal or greater to the percentage of men who haven't got a clue," he said, looking over at the group of old, snickering 'gentlemen'.

The woman squinted, tilted her head to the side, and smiled, as much impressed by the evasiveness of his answer as by the sentiment it contained. "You seem like a smart young man. I'd enjoy seeing you at one of our meetings." She handed Heero a leaflet. "First Tuesday of every month, at the Opal Room of the Barnsbury Hotel in Pentonville. Perhaps you'd like to bring your ideas to the podium..."

Heero took the page with a noncommittal tilt of his head. "Perhaps." His eye travelled rapidly to the bottom of the leaflet, looking for the publication notice:

> _National Union of Women's Suffrage Societies, est. 1897  
Printed and distributed by Dr. S. Poole, M.D. 186B Trafalgar Street, Walworth_

"Doctor Poole...is this you?" Heero asked without any hint of disapproval.

"Yes, that's right," the woman said, piping up so as to be clearly heard by the disbelievers. "I am a doctor. Not a nurse, not a midwife, not one of the Holy Sisters of the Divine Stethoscope," she quipped, eliciting amused giggles from the ladies in the crowd. "A proper _doctor._ Proof that women are neither inferior, nor incapable of excelling in so-called 'men's professions'!"

Before the hecklers had a chance to jump in with their rebuttal, Duo leapt out from behind his partner with a wide smile. "Aw, cool! Really? Could you take a look at my arm? I think I'm getting tennis elbow from stirring the pancake batter." He offered his right arm for inspection while Heero shook his head with a smirk.

Immediately charmed by the boy, the doctor gave his arm a quick once-over and prescribed rest, liniment, and more milk in the pancake batter. While they chatted, Heero looked over the fairly ordinary leaflet he'd been given; it was mostly a collection of women's suffrage articles, many with very worthy ideas, and meeting annoucements, including the one in Pentonville. The woman herself was more a puzzle; she certainly didn't sound English, and there was something odd about the narrowness of her eyes, as if they didn't quite match the rest of her face, by English standards. Heero filed her image away in his mind and tucked the leaflet into his inside coat pocket. All information was eventually valuable.

Next to him, the diagnostic session continued. Dr. Poole had put her leaflets away in a large shoulder bag and was gently cradling Duo's jaw with both hands, checking for swollen glands just below his ears. Duo closed his eyes and mewed softly at the motherly contact, probably the first of that kind he'd ever experienced. "And are your wisdom teeth coming in alright?" Dr. Poole asked.

"Yeah, but this one back here's been hurting a bit..."

Heero looked around and saw that most of the crowd had dissipated, leaving him alone with the good doctor and her nutty patient. Now he was beginning to look at his watch impatiently. _I don't believe this!_ he thought, _I take him on a supply run and he ends up getting his yearly physical in the middle of the street! How do these insane things happen!?_

"You're looking a bit underweight to me," Dr. Poole said, "take some mild dandelion tea with breakfast each morning. It'll help your appetite."

"Thanks!" Duo said cheerily. "And I stubbed my toe the other day--"

"_Duo,_" a tenor voice growled, "we've taken up more than enough of her time, now let's _go_." Heero grabbed his assistant by the braid and led him away. "Good day, Doctor."

"Ow! Leggo!" Duo yelped. "I was just being friendly!"

Dr. Poole smiled at the pair as they walked away. She then took her leaflets back out of the shoulder bag and resumed pitching her enlightenment to the crowd, with the usual mixed results.

As the boys began their trek back to the manor with their purchases, Heero's analytical side couldn't shake the feeling that Dr. Poole didn't quite fit her environment somehow. Unfortunately, he simply had too much on his plate to start investigating every person he met in London who was a little bit odd. Duo could keep him occupied on that count for several months. He pushed the meeting to the back of his mind and carried on.

**********  
  


The afternoon's overcast sky was something of a blessing to the city, for it cooled the air to a slightly more bearable temperature. It reminded the people that the days would soon be getting shorter, and London would eventually turn rain-soaked and bitter cold once again. Before that happened, however, Quatre was going to make the most of the weather; the air was just perfect for his flower gardens, humid but not stifling.

He knelt on the grass in his overalls and gardening gloves, delicately nipping off stray branches of a sage bush with the pruning shears, surrounded on all sides by lilies, violets, and bluebells. _This is so relaxing,_ he thought, _and so beautiful! Even though I hate to think of the circumstances, I don't regret coming to England. You just can't find some of these lovely blossoms in the desert..._

"Penny for your thoughts?" a girl's voice asked.

The gardener looked up. There, in a pristine white sundress like the gown of an angel, was Dorothy. Quatre was immediately suspicious, but didn't let it show. "My thoughts aren't worth a farthing, never mind a whole penny," he joked with a smile.

"Oh, I'm sure that's not true!" the girl giggled, bashfully covering her mouth with a daintily-gloved hand. She bit lightly on her lower lip and smiled, looking between Quatre and the garden. "That's quite a view you've got down there," she said melodiously.

Quatre blinked at her for several seconds before realizing what she wanted. "Oh! I'm sorry!" He whipped the handkerchief out of his top pocket and laid it down on the ground, so Dorothy could kneel in front of the flowers without soiling her dress. Always the gentleman, was Quatre.

Dorothy gathered up her skirts and availed herself of the resting place, settling down near a patch of violets. Removing her gloves and dropping them on the grass, she reached out to run her thin, peaches-and-cream fingers over the petals of some pale blue flowers. "These are exquisite," she cooed, batting her eyelids coquettishly, "what are they?"

"Those?" Quatre said, looking over from the sage bush. "Those are myosotis palustris...forget-me-nots."

"How fascinating! And these?" she asked, switching to a pink cluster.

The gardener glanced over once again. "Hydrangea hortensis, same as those blue and purple ones over there. You can change the colour of the blossoms by changing the acidity of the soil they grow in."

Dorothy sat back on her heels and looked suitably impressed. "My _goodness_, you seem to know a lot about plants and flowers and growing things, don't you?" She gave him another timid smile and twirled her hair around her fingers.

_She's up to something. Even if I didn't have my sixth sense, I could tell. She's so obvious._ Quatre smiled back politely. "Well, it _is_ my job to know." When she blushed falsely and looked away, he peered through the hedge to make sure his bodyguard was still hidden on the other side. Sure enough, he caught a glimpse of Trowa's dark green turtleneck, and knew he would leap out and defend him if anything went awry.

"Tell me something," Dorothy said in a shy voice, "what can one do to help a flower that isn't thriving on it's own?"

Quatre thought about the question. "It would depend on what's wrong with it. If it's just not getting enough water, or enough sunlight--"

"What if everything the flower needed had been given to it in abundance, but it still wilted? What if it had all the water it needed, all the beautiful sunshine it could ask for, but no matter what, it just couldn't grow?" Her eyes misted over in feigned sadness, and it seemed as if she could cry at any moment.

A brief pause followed, and Quatre set his hands on his knees. "I would suspect the soil it was planted in of being too harsh or the wrong mixture for it," he said, guessing that this was exactly what she wanted him to say. "I'd try transplanting it into better soil."

"Oh," Dorothy gasped quietly. She turned to him and tucked her hand under his chin, tilting his face closer to her own, every sound and movement dripping with drama. "And is that the _only_ way to make it well again?" she whispered. Her hand wandered up to his forehead, brushing aside the soft, feathery hair and travelling lightly down the side of his face.

Quatre cleared his throat softly and pulled her hand away. "M'lady...please..."

"I know it's terribly uncouth of me to have such feelings for my hostess' servant, but I just can't help myself!" Dorothy grabbed her gloves and began wringing them in her pale hands, tears flowing freely down her rosy cheeks. "I'm so worried about you, risking your health to slave away in this wretched heat! You're going to wither and die in this place, I can feel it! You must get out of here! You _must!_"

The gardener was unaffected by her tears, because he felt in his heart that they were completely false. "And where should I go?" he asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.

Dorothy dried her eyes with one glove and gazed sweetly at him. "You could always take that clerical position at Lady Une's estate," she said hopefully, "she told me all about it, and I think it would be _much_ better for you! I even convinced her to forgive your friend for being so rude to her in the street! She's willing to give you another chance and all you have to do is say 'yes'!"

Quatre focused on her misty eyes and concentrated, reaching out with his mystical understanding to peel away the mask she wore. _Deceit...lies...but something else as well. Why does she want me to go? If I could just get closer..._

"It takes a strong spirit to admit physical weakness, Quatre," the girl pleaded, "won't you give your poor body and soul a chance to heal somewhere more peaceful? If the only way to save that wilting flower is to transplant it into softer, easier soil, then you _know_ what you must do."

A longer pause this time. "Thank you for your concern, m'lady," the gardener began slowly, "but there is no possible way for me to leave Bridlewood. Miss Relena needs me here much more than I need to get away, and for the final time, I don't feel the least bit sickly." Trying to look detached and professional, he picked up the pruning shears and waved them towards the sage bush. "Now I'm very sorry, but I have to get back to this."

He turned away and went straight back to his work, cutting errant twigs off the large plant and saving them in a basket, to dry the leaves and give them to Duo for his herb and spice collection. Dorothy's brow wrinkled. She had used two large handfuls of tricks from her massive flirting arsenal, but they seemed to have little or no effect. _Never mind,_ she thought, _I always keep a few aces tucked away in reserve._

She placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned in close. "I only want what's best for you," she whispered, drawing even nearer, and finally touching a delicate, petal-soft kiss to his cheek.

Quatre's eyes widened at the contact, but it wan't the kiss that shocked him. The close physical contact heightened the ability of his emotional instincts, giving him a much deeper glance behind the mask; he didn't like what he saw. _Greed! That's what I couldn't pick up from her before! Pure, awful greed! But if it's aimed at me, then that means..._

Dorothy rose and brushed stray blades of grass off her dress, gave the boy one last smile, and wandered off, fanning herself with her gloves. As soon as she was well out of earshot, Trowa magically appeared from his hiding place behind the hedge and crouched next to his young charge. "I heard that. She's got some nerve..."

"Trowa, did you tell anyone about the tontine?" Quatre asked quietly, giving the sage bush a blank stare.

"Of course not!" the taller boy exclaimed, shaking his head.

"Well, somebody told, and if it wasn't you, then it must have been one of the others." Quatre took off his gardening gloves and ran his hands through his fair hair nervously. "I have this awful feeling she knows about the money, and that she's trying to lure me away because of it."

**********  
  


The cloud cover only got thicker as the night wore on, but the rain stubbornly refused to fall. Instead, the setting sun and the rising moon were obscured by a thick gray haze of stagnant moisture, so much that by ten o'clock, the world outside the house had gone depressingly dark. Perfect for sneaking about.

While the rest of the house was being tucked in for the night, Duo prowled the halls looking for his partner, carefully avoiding the floorboards he'd identified as the creaky ones. Dressed once again in his shabby brown suit and cap, he crept this way and that until he found Heero in the kitchen, locking the back door for the night.

Duo wanted to sneak up and scare him, but the butler's keen hearing wouldn't allow for it. "Come to spirit me away into the night, have you?" Heero asked dryly without turning around, attempting to sound disinterested.

"Try to contain your enthusiasm," Duo sneered. He went to the cupboard under the washbasin and took out three very odd items, considering where they came from. The first was a grungy tin with a screw-top lid bearing the faded label, 'Mastic Gum Resin.' The second was a brown paper bag lightly covered on the outside with a fine white powder, with a long-handled paintbrush sticking out of it. Lastly was a length of heavy chain, about an inch thick, and nearly four feet long.

Heero watched the peculiar parade of items with a raised eyebrow, but said nothing. Naturally, after just having locked the back door, Duo insisted that they take the back route instead of exiting out the front, and they left the kitchen to creep around to the front of the house and away down the street. They walked for a long time down practically empty roads, the only other people out at such a late hour being policemen and the occasional drunkard. After stopping at a pub along the way for a quick meal, at Duo's insistence, they wandered until reaching Fenchurch Street, near the banks of the River Thames.

"Ready for your next adventure?" Duo asked.

Heero looked around for anything remotely dangerous. "Are you suggesting we jump in the canal?"

"Nuh-uh, my hair and filthy canal water that two thousand ships have flaked rust into don't mix! Follow me..." With a wink, Duo turned and headed straight for the massive landmark that had been looming a short distance away and listening to their conversation--the maginificent Tower Bridge.

Spanning the width of the Thames with two massive medieval-looking towers was the recently-built lift bridge that had just revolutionized the way land traffic and sea traffic coexisted in the same spot. A long walkway stretched between the pillars just above the water, with a seam in the middle so the two halves could be raised to allow the passage of ships. Duo waited until there was nobody looking and led Heero partway across the bridge, hugging the siderail.

"Beautiful, ain't it?" Duo remarked, stopping at a point where some light scratches had been etched into the siderail's paint. He sat down on the bridge and opened the tin of resin. "I was hanging around a lot while they were building this thing, just a little kid, really. Never got close to it during daylight hours, of course, so I had to do all my exploring at night, preferably when there wasn't a full moon."

Heero regarded the structure around them thoughtfully. Even though it was almost pitch black out, it did look like a rather impressive piece of architecture; still, he didn't see what Duo could possibly expect him to learn from it.

Still comfortably seated, Duo opened the paper bag and carefully poured some of the white powder into the tin, mixing it with the paintbrush as he did so. "Finding those nooks 'n crannies in the blueprints the other day made me kinda nostalgic for this place. You wouldn't _believe_ how many hiding places there are on this bridge for an experienced thief, let me tell you!"

Heero folded his arms. 'Experienced thief'? Was his partner trying to drag him into a life of crime? Not that Heero hadn't ever stolen anything before, but that was business...it was totally different... "We're not stealing anything, either. Whatever you have to show me, you can do it without breaking th--what are you doing?"

Duo looked up and smiled. He was taking off his shoes and socks. "I'm going to treat you to the use of an invention of mine, but the ingredients are a secret, okay?" He gave the contents of the tin another stir and lifted the paintbrush, revealing a gooey, amber-coloured substance that clung to the bristles in huge globs. "Yep, this stuff has served me well over the years..." He rolled up his trouser legs and began painting the bare soles of his feet with the sticky goo.

"Duo, if anyone walks by, you just escaped from a mental institution and I've never seen you before in my life, agreed?"

"Wuss." Once his feet had a thick layer of the alien stuff, he began painting the palms of his hands as well. "If you ever wanna quit your job and become a professional pickpocket, this is the stuff to have." When he was finished, he picked up the length of chain and got to his feet, enjoying the befuddled look on Heero's face. "Your turn!"

"Excuse me?"

"Get your shoes and socks off and do like I did!"

While Heero showed absolutely no signs of moving, Duo was dangling the chain by one end in his right hand and looking up. Above their heads, stretching in a graceful arc from the riverbank to a point nearly a hundred and fifty feet up the side of the nearest tower, was a steel suspension strut. From the lowest point, coincidentally located about where they were standing, it climbed at a steeper and steeper angle until it connected with the tower for architectural support. The ribbon of blue-painted steel looked just about the right size for a human to balance on.

"You _can't_ be serious."

"You're right! Serious is boring!" Duo gave the chain a few heavy swings and threw the loose end over a metal bar just out of reach. Grabbing the other end, he now had an extended grip on the bar, and a maniacal grin to boot. He tossed his cap to the ground. "Besides, can serious people do _this_?" With the agility of a lemur, Duo hung from the chain and stuck his feet to the thin vertical support leading up to the blue steel. He continued to reposition the chain over and over, scaling up to the top surface of the metal ribbon until he hauled himself on top of it. He now stood on the lowest point leading up to the stone tower.

Heero shook his head in disbelief. _He really is insane..._

"Tonight's goal is to make it from this spot right here, up to the top of the support where it meets the tower," Duo called down, pointing to the pertinent area, almost two hundred feet high. "If you chicken out and head back down, you lose. If you freeze up and I have to come rescue you, you lose. If you fall..." He looked at the walkway and the river's surface far below, then smiled at Heero and shrugged. "...well, obviously."

The stakes were getting higher. Duo's smirk was getting wider. Humiliation versus a possible gruesome death was always a tough call. _I can't believe I'm doing this._ Heero sat down next to the tin of resin, divested himself of his shoes and socks, rolled up his trouser legs and painted four thick swatches of the gummy substance on his hands and feet.

Immensely pleased with his partner's determination, Duo tossed down the chain, and Heero gave him one last glare before following his example. It took a bit more effort, indicating that Duo had accumulated a lot more practice at this bizarre exercise, but Heero made it on top of the blue steel ribbon without incident. That was the easy part.

"Ready?" Duo asked.

"Does it matter?" Heero growled.

Duo grinned at him, and giving him a light punch to the shoulder, started walking carefully up the narrow strip of steel, the makeshift glue on his feet making a curious crackling noise with each cautious step. "We won't need that anymore," he called back, pointing to the chain, and Heero obediently dropped it.

The boys began their odd climbing expedition with relative ease; though the way was narrow, their ascent was easy for the first few minutes...but the route grew steadily steeper with each careful step. Soon, merely balancing on the narrow steel was insufficient, and they needed both hands to pull themselves along. Every few feet, Duo had to look back to see if Heero was still there. _If he fell, he wouldn't even lower himself to screaming, even when he hit the pavement._

It took all of Heero's concentration to execute the precarious climb safely. Set feet on flattest portion of steel...set hands twelve inches forward...unstick feet while pulling with hands, repeat process. _Ignore the fact that it's too dark to see. Ignore the fact that the wind is picking up the higher you climb. Most of all, don't look down..._

Heero looked down. It wasn't that bad, only a hundred feet. Nothing to be concerned about. He tightened his grip slightly.

Just then, he became aware of a light set of footsteps on the bridge. If it was a policeman, they were cooked. Heero froze, but Duo kept climbing, already too far away to hear them. He peered down at the bridge and waited. The footsteps grew louder, and a figure appeared far below...a figure in white, with jet black hair pulled into a ponytail. The stranger stopped, glanced around, then looked straight up at Heero.

_You again!_ Heero thought. _Why are you following me? Who sent you!?_

The stranger continued to stare straight up, and it occurred to Heero how ridiculous he must look, sloppily dressed and stuck to the metal support like a beetle climbing a drainpipe. Unfazed by the curious predicament, the stranger in white looked at him for a few moments, his expression totally blank, then turned and walked away, disappearing into the night as quietly as he came.

Heero tore his eyes away from the bridge below. Duo was getting too far ahead of him, and it was against the rules to stop climbing; he had to put the stranger out of his mind and press on.

"How ya doin' back there?" Duo was almost at the top and looked completely at ease, scaling the most vertical section of the steel. His voice was almost lost on the moisture-soaked wind, whipping about them at a much higher velocity than it did on the ground.

_Ask me again when I'm close enough to strangle you._ Just then, the distraction of his own angry thoughts combined with the extra mist in the air to make his hand slip off the edge of the steel. He lashed out and wrapped his other arm around the strut to regain his balance, narrowly avoiding a deadly fall. The glue didn't work perfectly on wet metal. "Fine, thank you."

The next time he looked up a few minutes later, Duo was gone. Heero actually gasped, then began frantically searching the ground for his friend. He looked at the black, murky water and instantly felt sick. "Duo!?....DUO!!"

Moments ticked by.

"Up here!"

Heero's head snapped back up to see a hand waving out from the shadowed area where steel met stone. One deep sigh and a vow of revenge later, Heero crawled up the last twenty feet of the nearly vertical climb before the glue decided to give out entirely. When he was near enough to be reached, Duo grabbed the other boy by the jacket and helped him pull himself up to the little hiding place.

Physically and mentally spent, Heero leaned against a wall, not caring where it was or how it got there, and gradually caught his breath. Duo struck a match and lit a small candle fragment, giving them their first good look at their surroundings. They sat in a tiny niche literally chipped out of the masonry where the blue steel support was fastened to the tower. It was completely separate and sheltered, invisible to the casual observer, and apparently unnoticed by the building inspectors. The floor of the niche was littered with assorted junk, like cheap jewellry, scraps of leather and metal, broken watches, and more tins of resin. A thief's hideaway.

Duo leaned against the opposite wall and started peeling the resin off his hands and feet. "You can bet you're the first person I've ever brought up here," he said, balling up the wads of goo and flattening them into the floor. "While they were building this, I thought to myself, 'Self, if you can claim a little piece of that as your own, in a place nobody would ever think to look, you'll always have somewhere to go, and you'll never really be homeless.' So I did."

Heero followed suit, peeling off the resin and sticking it anywhere that was still bare rock. It was beginning to harden, and came off fairly easily. "You carved this out of solid rock?"

"Not really," Duo said, "I sorta cheated. I waited until they were cementing these stones together, then made my first climb up that night, and just pulled a bunch of 'em out before the cement dried. The steel was already in place, and they kept on going the next day. Never bothered to look. Then I chucked all the spare rocks into the river."

It was impossible not to be impressed by his knowledge and skill. _An explosives expert, a chemical engineer, a stonemason and a master chef, and all before he could read or write. If I hadn't met him, I wouldn't have believed it._ Heero squinted at his soon-to-be ex-partner in the candlelight. _A pity...he would have been a great help to me, but for his own safety I have to tell him--_

"Done with peeling that stuff off? Only I'd better blow the candle out before someone looks up and spots us."

Heero nodded, and they dove back into the darkness while he tried to find an easy way to say what he had to. It had felt horrible when he thought Duo had fallen, and he knew letting Treize get his hands on the boy would feel even worse. "We need to talk..."

"Before we get into a big dialogue," Duo interrupted, "let's just enjoy the view for awhile, huh? That's the best part of coming up here! Just look at that!" There was a huge smile in his voice as he turned to face the small opening through which the glimmering lights of nighttime London could be seen. The advent of electricity made for a breathtaking picture of a shoreline, dotted with thousands of bright specks that looked especially lovely in the heavy mist.

"I used to come up here when I wanted to forget what my life was like. You can only get here at night anyway, and by then it's so quiet...no voices, no clattering wheels, nothing. You just stare at those lights and you could be anywhere...I used to sit here and pretend I was back home in America." He pulled his braid over his shoulder and stroked it like a soft, thick lifeline as he painted an image of his sad childhood.

"I don't even remember what America looks like, just that we took a boat here when I was five, for a holiday, I guess. We saw all the big touristy places, Buckingham Palace, the Parliament buildings, Kew Garden, all first-class and in _serious_ style! Then...I don't know what went wrong. Mom and Dad were fighting, they seemed mad at each other, mad at me, mad at the London weather, and one morning we just up and went to the train station...I guess we were going on a day trip somewhere to find some sunshine. The train pulled up and people started rushing around...I turned around and they were gone.

"Everything kinda went downhill from there, but you knew that already, right?" Duo said with a bitter smirk. "From that day, it's been tough just staying alive, and man, I _hated_ seeing the sun come up in the morning because it just meant another day full of problems." His eyes left the glittering landscape and fell on his friend's face, almost timidly. "I wanted to let you know...that I'm really glad you caught me in that alley. Life's gotten a heck of a lot better since you did."

Utterly humbled by the admission, Heero didn't know what to say. He tried to refocus on what he'd been intending to say for days, until Duo picked it up and threw it into the river.

"And I'm _really_ glad we've hooked up into this partnership sorta thing! I can't think of anything I'd rather be doing than helping you crack open a big, fat mystery with all the trimmings!" Duo tucked his knees up to his chest and tapped his feet excitedly.

Guilt stabbed at Heero. _Great. How am I supposed to tell him it's over now?_ He frowned, grateful that the darkness obscured it.

"What did you want to say, Heero?"

This mission was too much for him. Maybe he'd tell him later. "...nice view."

"Yeah...we still gotta get some sleep, though. We oughta go soon."

Heero looked down at the metal tins between them. "More resin?"

"Oh no, I never use that stuff on the way down, only up."

"How exactly _are_ we getting down, then?" Heero asked hesitantly.

"Well, y'know that big staircase at the manor that goes from the front hall to the second floor?"

".........yes...."

"Didya ever get the urge to slide down the banister?"

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


> _Next, in Episode Fourteen: The season's crowning social event, the Lord Chamberlain's fancy dress ball, rules over the household. Duo and Heero discover unseen question marks about their friendship, while Relena plans the perfect night with the object of her desire. Hovering in the background, however, is a sinister plot being woven together that could mean the worst for Heero, as he is forced to see Count Khushrenada's true strategy...all in a special **Double-Length** episode of Bridlewood Manor!_

*rotfl* I had to put the banister thing, I know it could never really happen, but it just seemed too cute to waste. Let's say for arguments' sake that they made it down safely. People have been wondering what snapped in Treize's head to make him behave the way he did recently, but rest assured, there is a reason why... =^_~= And please. For the love of all that is good and reasonable in the world. Do NOT put glue on your feet and try to climb something!!! =@_@= I can't afford personal injury lawsuits right now! What you've just read about Tower Bridge is entirely fictional, but hey, purely for academic purposes, I'll be posting a picture of the bridge on my site showing exactly where the theoretically ended up after their climb, if anyone wants to know...hehehe... *takes deep breath* ...let's say next episode on the...13th. *lets out deep breath* Baibai!

   [1]: http://www.dreamwater.net/art/mitsugi/bridle/tower.html



	14. Masquerade double length episode

**August 21st** -- Hallelujah! The FFN drought is over! Let's see how well we can make this boat float from now on, eh? =^_~= For anyone who wasn't aware, Bridlewood Manor is being simultaneously released episode by episode on my website (address at bottom of page), and if you ever can't get to FFN on the date when I promised you a new chapter, go there and you can get it on schedule. Anyway, this episode is split into two acts; the second act carries a warning label for **violence**, so like....dude. Be warned.

Disclaimer: This year, for my birthday, I asked for omnipotent control over the five Gundam pilots contained herein, which I didn't think was too extravagant or outlandish. What did I get? A set of green plastic see-thru picnicware from Zellers. I hope my now-ex-boyfriend puts a little more thought into his next girlfriend's birthday gift. If you want to sue me for control of the picnicware, well, whatever floats yer boat, I guess... =P

**Suggested Font: Times New Roman**  
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Episode Fourteen: Masquerade

> _"Master, go on; and I will follow thee, To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty." ~Adam; William Shakespeare's "As You Like It"_

August 13th, 1901

~*~ **_Act One_** ~*~

  
  


The first thing Heero saw that morning that he thought was strange was the absence of his braided roommate, seemingly up before the sun once again. There was no pattern to his behaviour whatsoever, and the only habit he maintained was to be surprising. He'd come to accept that.

The second strange thing he saw, or rather, heard, was a 'meow' coming from the other side of the bedroom door just as he was about to leave. He opened the door and saw Anna Maria, Dorothy's fluffy white cat, standing in the hall and staring up at him. The cat was not where she was supposed to be, but rather than pick her up and get cat hairs all over his suit, he shut the door behind him and stepped over the misplaced feline, who went about licking her paws when she saw that he wasn't going to pay any attention to her.

Two strange events in ten minutes, omens that it was going to be one of those days.

Heero collected the morning mail and distributed it, like any morning, and was left with the small envelope from the address in the north that he occasionally expected. He went down to the kitchen to open it in peace and found Duo already hard at work, standing at the kitchen counter.

"Ohayou, Heero-sensei!" he sang.

Heero nodded at him with a slight smile. Duo was taking his Japanese lessons very seriously.

The chef was trying to cut slices of melon into decorative shapes with varying degrees of success and, for once, didn't seem very chatty. Heero went ahead and opened his letter, grateful for a bit of quiet. At first glance, something appeared to be very wrong with his correspondence; the handwriting of the letter was different than usual, but the address, signature, and confirmation codes were all in order. While Duo's back was turned, he held it up to the light, but could find nothing suspicious that would indicate tampering. He studied the handwriting itself before reading the words.

_Finely tapered...light pressure...emotionally reserved. Baseline slants upwards...optimism. Dots every 'i' with a circle...strong-willed and original...hm. Interesting formation of t-bars and d-loops...determination and self doubt, what an odd combination..._ He raised the letter to his nose and gave it a quick sniff, eyebrows flying upwards almost immediately. _A woman._

He didn't honestly know what to think about that. With a confused blink, he moved on to the actual message and read it over several times. Slowly he put the letter down and looked at Duo. _Perhaps my new instructions are for the best. He won't be in danger from Treize if I'm halfway around the world._ His mind flew back to the night they spent illegally scaling up and down Tower Bridge without a net. _Then again, he's already in enough danger from his own silly self._

"You look bored," Duo remarked. He picked a bowl of something up off the counter and sat down with it at the kitchen table, next to Heero.

"Just thinking," came the simple reply.

Duo nodded, giving the contents of the bowl a few slow stirs. After a thought, he held up what was in his right hand and pointed to it. "Spoon?"

"Saji."

"Saji," Duo repeated, putting it back in the bowl. "Thinking about what? About tonight? I think you're dead lucky, getting to go to that ball as a guest instead of just to serve drinks......bowl?"

"Hachi," Heero sighed. "I don't look forward to social gatherings of any kind."

"Hachi." Duo stared at the bowl, mentally recording the word on his inner gramophone. "Why not? It's a chance to get out and do something different!"

Heero slumped in his chair, looking decidedly grouchy. "I should be here, _working_, not prancing around wearing some ridiculous costume in front of a room full of moronic, upper-crust, stuffed-shirt, two-faced--"

"Hey, _hey!_ What's gotten into _you_ today?" Duo exclaimed. "You're not usually this miserable, even when I burn your dinner, and granted that was only one time..."

The butler rubbed his eyes and winced. _Why am I so edgy this morning?_ He replayed what he could remember of the last eight hours and discovered that Anna Maria had been meowing at the door most of the night. Duo must have slept right through it. "Sorry. I didn't get much sleep." It was very odd for the cat to even venture past the third floor, let alone camp out there until sunrise...

"Aw, you'll start having fun once you get there, don't worry about it," Duo suggested, patting his friend's shoulder with one hand and reaching for a bag on the table with the other. "Flour?"

A bit groggily, Heero turned the bag around to see exactly what kind it was. "...chuurikiko."

Duo paused. "...right. I'll have to work a bit on that one." He dumped a half-cupful of flour into the bowl and kept on stirring. Every few minutes, Duo would prompt the boy for a new word to add to his rapidly growing Japanese vocabulary. It was rather like the shameful linguistic circus Heero had been forced by Relena to participate in, with one important difference; Duo was quizzing him in order to learn, not to be entertained. It implied a degree of respect that Heero didn't get from the rest of the household.

Moments later, a set of heavy footsteps plodded down the stairs, and Elsie appeared, not dressed in her usual maid's uniform, but instead wearing her coat and hat, along with her tattered little purse. She threw Heero a sour look, then stomped over to the cookie jar and took out a handful of oatmeal-raisin.

"Morning, Elsie!" Duo said with his chipper grin. "French toast and buttermilk biscuits for breakfast!"

Elsie turned around slowly, very slowly, with tension in every muscle comparable to that of a lioness about to slay an innocent baby gazelle. "Oh, French toast! Ain't _that_ lovely!" she whined sarcastically.

Duo's face fell. "Don't you like it?"

"_Like_ it? It's only my favourite, not that it makes a bleedin' bit o' difference!" the woman shouted angrily. "I'm not gonna _get_ any, am I? I'm too _busy_ for breakfast, aren't I? I've got to go into town to collect some poxy costume for Little Lord Fauntleroy 'ere!" She flung an arm in Heero's direction to punctuate her argument. Heero glared.

Duo smirked, trying to get her back into good spirits. "Can't really argue if it's what her Ladyship wants."

"That's puttin' it mildly," Elsie sneered. She walked back towards the stairs, stopping behind Heero's chair. "And _you_...madam wants you upstairs, in costume, ready to leave by six-thirty, prompt! And don't make difficulties with Otto or you'll catch the rough edge of 'is tongue!" She stalked off in a terrible huff.

"...hn." The butler folded his arms and came dangerously close to pouting. He looked in the direction of the stairs and scowled. "Ikeike..."

"What does that mean?" Duo asked innocently.

Heero slumped forward. "...never mind."

**********  
  


Otto left the girls eating breakfast in the conservatory, as usual, but instead of going straight to the study to open the household mail, he went to Lord Peacecraft's private lounge on the second floor, for another meeting with Count Khushrenada. They had a little 'discussion' now and then, mostly about what they thought was best for Relena and how to make it happen, but in all matters, Treize called the shots and Otto had to agree.

He knocked cordially on the door and awaited the Count's blessing of entrance, which was promptly given. Treize was seated in Lord Peacecraft's chair, as always, in his velvet dressing gown with a cup of coffee and a newspaper. It was quite the domestic scene.

"Have a seat, Otto."

"Thank you, m'lord." Otto took his usual place on Treize's right hand, opposite the window. "Begging your pardon, sir, but I was rather hoping you would be able to stop the youngsters going to the ball together. Weren't you going to warn Mr. Yuy off altogether?"

Treize sipped his coffee thoughtfully. "I have done all I planned to do up to this point. I can't make the boy follow my instructions," he said with a hint of a grin.

Otto couldn't believe what he was hearing. "But you said you were going to make sure he knew what could happen to him if he--"

"Otto, _please_," Treize said, holding up a hand to stop him. "I know far more about the criminal mind and how it works, so you must simply trust me."

The house steward looked down. "My apologies, m'lord."

"Not at all," the Count said, setting down his coffee. "I'll give you a crash course, shall I? There are, in fact, many types of thieves and rogues out there, and they all have a distinctly different modus operandi. Take your average minor street villain, for example." He kicked his feet up on the velvet footstool and lit one of Lord Peacecraft's slim imported cigars. Otto noted how much the Count seemed to enjoy all the things that didn't belong to him.

"One sees pickpockets, petty thieves and shoplifters in that category," Treize continued, "clever, but not terribly brave. Almost always work alone because they are so lacking in honour that they would betray their partners for a fifth of gin.

"Then we have the charmers and the firebrands. These are witty con men or masters of intimidation who use pretty words to get what they want, control who they want--and when words fail, they switch to fists without a moment's thought. Much more interesting, but volatile."

The Count picked up his coffee cup and studied it. "And then there are people like our dear Mr. Yuy. Cold, calculating...possessors of vast knowledge and able to get the better of the other two sorts quite easily, but lacking in the personal power to do so. They take their orders from a higher authority, and are _fiercely_ loyal to that authority. These are by far the most deadly, and the most rare...the spies and assassins."

Otto bolted straight up in his chair. "Miss Relena!"

"Calm yourself, my good man...I seriously doubt that her Ladyship is in the slightest danger...at least, not after tonight."

"My Lord," Otto begged, leaning forward in his chair, "are you absolutely _sure_ that Mr. Yuy falls into this last category?"

"Quite sure," Treize said, taking another sip of coffee. "I knew as soon as I had that 'quiet word' with him on the third floor. I admit that I was a trifle..._brusque_ with the lad, but it was necessary."

Otto's brow knit, and he leaned back slightly. "You mean to say the two of you fought?"

Treize chuckled. "Not exactly...but a little applied pressure was needed to determine exactly how dangerous he is. Threaten and abuse a petty thief and he cries, and begs for mercy, and even promises to reform since he only stole in the first place because of his miserable upbringing. Push the thugs and the con men too far, and they push back, either verbally or physically. They'll insult you, curse at you, deliver an impressive repertoire of threats with which to answer your own, but whatever form it takes, there is _always_ a reaction.

"But the assassin...do any violence you wish to him, but he will not, _cannot_ react unless he is _specifically_ ordered to do so, or unless he fears for his life. I pushed our Mr. Yuy far enough to make a thief fall to his knees, far enough to make a thug take a swing at me, far enough to make a charmer try to buy his freedom. He did none of these...he just stared...stared right past my eyes as if they were bits of broken glass lying in the street."

Treize drank the last of his coffee and set the cup and saucer back down, setting his elbows on the arms of the chair and steepling his fingers in front of him. "The poor boy probably thought he was doing his master a favour by not returning the abuse I visited upon him, but if not for his total lack of any reaction, I would never have known that he _has_ a master. His silence told me all that I needed to know. He's nobody. He's _nothing._ Just a pawn of a greater man...the true mastermind..."

The Count trailed off, staring out the window in a sort of trance. Otto was wringing his hands with worry. "We can't have him around Miss Relena! Shouldn't we inform Scotland Yard?"

"No, no, no, my dear fellow," Treize said in a sly voice. Otto's protectiveness was an admirable quality, but it sometimes blinded him to the fact that he was being manipulated. "Mr. Yuy is just having a bit of a lark in this house before he carries out his orders. He's probably watching someone in London..." He leaned forward to create the appropriate air of secrecy. "...it could be someone living on this very street. Now, if we let the authorities go meddling in the affairs of the aristocracy, all of Regent's Park will be known throughout London as a den of spies and enemy agents, and Miss Relena wouldn't like _that_, would she?"

Otto thought it through; it could very well damage Relena's social position to drag the police into this, and her standing among the upper classes was very important to her. He nodded. "What should we do?"

"Ah, for that I'll need to call on the favour you promised me when we reached our little 'understanding'," Treize said. "Now that I know what type of villain Mr. Yuy is, I have a much clearer picture of what to do with him. Simple threats and intimidation will never make him crack. Firmer action is required."

Otto nodded again. "I'm listening."

"Do you have many friends in London, Otto?"

"Some..."

"Do you have acquaintances the sort of which you hope you never get close enough to become friends?"

A sinister gleam crossed Otto's eyes. "The sort that belong in your second category of criminal?"

Treize nodded with a wicked little grin. "Find me six strong men by tonight, and find out their price. Have them meet us at the ball, quietly."

"Yes, m'lord," Otto agreed, rising respectfully to go.

"And while you're at it, I should advertise for temporary domestic assistance if I were you," Treize said, taking a long drag of the imported cigar. "Something tells me our Mr. Yuy won't be feeling well enough to come to work tomorrow."

**********  
  


Heero felt the hunter creeping down the halls after him, stalking him like a wild jungle cat, up one set of stairs and down the other, running in an endless circle that did nothing but wear out the prey. _I refuse to be captured, by far the greatest dishonour..._ He concealed himself in darkened rooms, behind doors, even under tables, but still the hunter persisted, following with tenacity as much as with ease.

Finally, distracted by some noise or other, Heero took a wrong turn and found himself in a room with no exit. _Dead end! I've got to get out of here before it's--_

"Found you!" called a voice from the doorway.

_...too late._

"I've been looking everywhere for you, Heero," the blond intruder said sweetly. "You're a tough person to track down." _But not too tough..._

The butler looked fondly at the window, wondering if he could survive a three-storey drop well enough to serve tea later. Reluctantly, he decided to bite the bullet, and slowly turned around to face his triumphant captor. "What can I do for you, Quatre?"

The blond boy, who was toting an assortment of boxes tied up with string, smiled knowingly. "Now, now, you're well aware that Miss Relena wants you to try on your costume early so I can make any needed alterations by tonight."

Heero sighed. _Might as well get it over with._ He nodded and followed Quatre to one of the guest rooms with a full-length mirror. He couldn't understand how the boy had found him so easily; as soon as he saw Elsie coming up the walk with the first of several armloads of packages, he took off running, but Quatre seemed to home in on him without any difficulty at all. It was most disturbing.

Quatre put the boxes on the bed and set up a decorative screen with herons and lilies painted on it, secretly smirking to himself at how well his sixth sense came in handy sometimes. "Alright then," he said, happily cutting the strings around the packages, "we gave the costumier your measurements from when you arrived, so as long as you haven't gained any weight, we should be okay!"

With a tiny grumble, Heero stepped behind the screen and removed his suit, draping each piece over the top of the screen as he did so. Quatre passed him one article after another from the opened boxes, and he grinned as waves of confusion and frustration seeped right through the screen at him.

Finally, like a clock that had just ticked down to Doomsday, came the moment of truth. "Right, come on out and let me have a look at you," Quatre said, readying a pin cushion and a measuring tape.

As he slowly stepped out from behind the screen, Heero regretted being too wrapped up in anger and self-pity while getting dressed to notice Trowa and Duo sneaking into the room and standing beside Quatre with breathless anticipation. He froze as soon as he saw them. "What are you doing here!?"

"We came to see the unveiling!" Trowa said with a smirk. Duo was speechless and simply gave a little queen-like round of applause with mousey cries of 'Bravo!' Quatre fought hard not to giggle as Heero positioned himself in front of the mirror.

They all took in his reflection starting with the shiny black shoes, decorated with brass buckles, that ended in rather squarish points. Leading up from the shoes were opaque black tights, and black knee britches with gold embroidery down the sides, made of the finest gaberdine. The tunic was also mostly black, a combination of silk, satin, and metallic gold crepe, with billowy sleeves and brightly-polished brass buttons. Trailing down from the gold epaulets was a sumptuous three-quarter black cape with gold edging and black fur around the collar.

"Oh wait, one more thing..." Quatre turned around and opened the last box, pulling out a very grand, squarely-cut hat in black and gold stripes, with a huge black feather perched in the brim. He set it neatly on Heero's head and stepped back to take in the overall effect.

".......tell me _again_ why I'm doing this?" Heero asked, in a voice barely above a whisper.

"To make Miss Relena happy!" Quatre said.

"To conduct reconaissance on the aristocracy!" Trowa said.

"To stuff your face and get drunk off your ass!" Duo said.

Heero shook his head in defeat, hoping word of this humiliation would never reach Lord Jeffrhyss' ears. Despite being thouroughly disgusted by the whole situation, some tiny part of him was just a little curious about something... "Who am I supposed to be?"

Trowa and Duo blinked. It was a very lovely costume, but they nevertheless had trouble identifying it. They shrugged.

"_I_ know who you are, but only because I've seen Miss Relena's costume already," Quatre offered. "You're Prince Siegfried from Swan Lake!" He was met by three very blank stares. "...Prince Siegfried? ...the one who goes out hunting on his birthday and sees this beautiful girl who's really a swan and falls in love with her? ...come _on_, you guys!"

Trowa scrunched up his face. "Relena's a swan?"

Duo poked him in the ribs. "I've always thought of her as a turkey, personally."

Quatre frowned at them teasingly. "You could be a little more helpful, you know," he said, tugging at bits of Heero's costume to see if it fit properly. "Don't you have anything positive to say?"

"I like the hat," Trowa mused.

Quatre smiled widely. "Yes! Very French Renaissance, isn't it?"

"I thought it was rather Baroque," Trowa replied, rubbing his chin.

"Hey, if it ain't Baroque, don't fix it!" Duo quipped without missing a beat.

Quatre frowned again, narrowing his eyes at the pun. "You're just awful."

"Are you all quite finished?" Heero growled. He had about as much patience left as a six-year-old being dragged around town all day looking for school clothes.

"Yes, stop teasing him, both of you!" Quatre rebuked the two smirking lads. "I think he looks very nice, and he's very lucky to be going to this ball. It's very prestigious, you know! All the most important people in London will be there! You're looking forward to tonight, aren't you, Heero?" He stepped in front of the mirror and gave him a bright smile.

Suddenly, there was a savage, murderous look in the butler's eyes; Quatre made a little 'eep' noise and retreated to the pile of empty boxes before the fuming youth had a chance to snap him in two. Trowa took his place, blocked the mirror and grabbed Heero by his silk-wrapped shoulders.

"Heero, _focus_," he said firmly. "You may look like a reject from the Ballet Russe, but you've got a job to do tonight. You have to eavesdrop on as many conversations as possible to find out just how far rumours of the tontine have spread."

Heero took a deep breath, shut his eyes, and nodded as if in pain. "Right." As silly as it all seemed, this was the right thing to do.

"Right. Now back to work." Trowa slapped Heero on the back as he plodded off behind the screen to become human again. Duo couldn't take his eyes off the costume, watching it sway from side to side with a strange little grin, until it disappeared completely; the pity of it was, he thought Heero looked rather good in it, and was disappointed by the thought that he'd probably never see it again.

Quatre clapped his hands. "Alright, you two gawkers, out!" The party broke up quickly after that, as the erstwhile costume-fitter shuffled the other two boys back out into the hall for good. He drew the back of his hand across his forehead and sighed. Only three more costumes to go...

**********  
  


The entire house was abuzz after tea while the five priviledged ones prepared themselves for the evening gala. Relena was the first to be dressed and ready, bouncing down the stairs in her costume with enough enthusiasm for five girls, not one. While she waited for the rest of her entourage, she twirled around on the front hall floor, modelling her outfit for the housemaids, who gasped and applauded with reverence.

As Princess Odette, the magical swan maiden, her costume was almost entirely white. Her gown was an exquisite piece of art combining satin, beads, lace, and of course feathers, that floated and swirled around her as she walked like a cloud following an angel. All who attended the fancy dress ball were required to wear some sort of a mask as part of their costume; Relena's mask was more of a feathered headdress that featured a tiny model of a swan's neck and head that sprang up from the part covering her eyes.

Between six and six-thirty, the other party-goers trickled downstairs at a steady pace. Treize sailed down dressed as Dracula, without fangs, and left early after being picked up in a carriage by Lady Une, who no doubt wore a silk scarf around her neck to cover his teethmarks. Otto appeared dressed historically and deferentially as a French peasant, just in time to be presented with last-minute invitations for himself and Dorothy, whom he would be officially escorting. Dorothy, for her part, had chosen Marie Antoinette for her costume, and playfully promised to feed Otto cake throughout the evening.

The only one missing at half-past six was Heero, who was in the same guest room as before, perfectly attired and receiving a pep talk from Quatre. The Arabian heir desperately wanted to know if word of his plight had spread to the aristocracy; he had a feeling Dorothy knew about the tontine, but unfortunately, there was no way to prove it.

In time, Quatre left to say goodnight to Relena; they wouldn't be back until late. Heero looked at himself in the full-length mirror and shook his head. _I can't believe my life's come down to this._

A light knock came at the door. "Is your princeliness receiving visitors?"

"Come in, Duo."

The chef strode in casually, folded his arms, and leaned against the wall. He looked Heero up and down with a faint smile and seemed to be on the razor's edge of speaking, but couldn't quite get started. That struck Heero as very strange. "What is it?" he asked.

Duo shrugged. "Just came for a last look," he said with his classic grin in place. "You may not realize, but that's one hell of an outfit." At the moment, the butler was adorned in all but his black velvet mask and something sticking out of one of the boxes on the bed. Duo walked over and picked up the object; it was a little toy bow and arrow, a replica of what Prince Siegfried was meant to handle in the ballet. "Hey, aren't you gonna take this along and go swan hunting?" Duo joked, plucking the bowstring.

Heero scowled. "Don't tempt me."

"Yeah, yeah," Duo chuckled. He quieted down again and stared at the carpet for awhile; Heero began to seriously worry about the boy's health. "Well, I just thought I'd see you off, so g'night, Prince Siegfried! Have a blast!" With a cheery wave and a less-than-convincing smirk, he walked out. Sadly, Heero could only afford a moment or two of wondering what seemed to be bothering the chef before he realized he was late, grabbed his mask, and marched downstairs.

Relena didn't even scold him for his tardiness, only squealed like a schoolgirl at the sight of their respective characters, side by side at last. At twenty to seven, the two couples paraded out the front door, down the walk, and into the carriage, held in waiting by Trowa in full dress uniform. Quatre and all the housemaids were there to see them off, and even Arthur appeared by the side of the house and tipped his cap as they drove past.

Only one member of the household was missing from the happy scene. Down in the kitchen, with his feet half-heartedly kicked up on the worktable, was Duo, sitting there and wondering why he suddenly felt so alone.

**********  
  


By quarter-past, the gardener hadn't had a chance to do hardly any work outside, and the sun was already beginning to set, so he opted to pack it in for the day and have a cup of tea. Walking brightly into the kitchen, he saw Duo with his feet up on the table and grinned. As he got closer, though, he felt something wasn't quite right with the usually jovial chef, and grew concerned.

"Duo?" he asked quietly, taking a chair beside him. "How long have you been sitting here?"

The braided boy shrugged. "Dunno. Awhile."

"Is anything the matter?" Quatre prodded.

Another shrug, sharper this time. "Nah, nothing...I just like to be where the action is, y'know? Sitting at home waiting for people to come back from an exciting night out really isn't my thing." There was more, but he couldn't bring himself to discuss it, fearing rejection and harsh judgement.

Quatre smiled with more understanding than he was prepared to reveal. "I know what you mean, but there's nothing to be done about it. Nothing to be done about anything, really...it's too late to do any real work outside, and there's no chores left inside. I'll probably just go to bed early."

Suddenly, Duo looked keenly contemplative, as if hatching an idea worthy of an international patent. "Nothing to be done," he repeated. "You're right. There's no more meals until tomorrow, and if someone wants a midnight snack, they can come and help themselves. You're absolutely right!"

Quatre blinked. "I am?"

"Yeah!" Revitalized, Duo leapt up and slapped the smaller boy on the back, making him lurch forward in his chair a bit. "I think I'm gonna go to bed early too! Thanks, man!" He practically skipped up the servants' stairs to his room, whistling a happy tune, leaving Quatre puzzled, but glad he was of some help.

Duo shut the bedroom door behind him and went immediately to the chest of drawers at the foot of his bed, pulling out a change of clothing and an old rugby sock with some coins hidden inside. Having real money that he didn't have to steal was the finest of luxuries, because it brought all the other little extras in life along with it. He shoved everything into a dusty old carpet bag that had been stuck in the attic for umpteen years, and went out again.

He deftly avoided being seen by any of the maids as he crept to the front of the house and out the door. _Sorry, ladies, no time to chat. I've got a party to crash._

  


~*~ **_Act Two_** ~*~

  
  


Not just an elegant social gathering, but the crowning glory of the summer entertaining season was the Lord Chamberlain's fancy dress ball. No expense was spared in preparation for the event; the finest of everything, from food to furnishings, to the orchestra and the decorations, was absolutely essential.

A highly superior hall in a very exclusive district was the locale, and hundreds of London's most well-to-do were filling the place to the rafters, dressed in all manner of exotic disguises, a breathtaking carnival of colour. If the chandeliers sparkled any more, if the floor shone to a greater degree, or if the gilded wall ornaments gave off a stronger glow by even the tiniest margin, any man among them would have been instantly blinded. The ball was a feast for all senses, and a flurry of delectable temptations for every heart.

Every heart, it seemed, bar one. A single soul among the crowd felt no sense of uplifting; a single pair of cold blue eyes seemed unimpressed. The mere ability to be awed by such opulent splendour was conditioned to be absent from this heart, perhaps forever. Prince Siegfried alone was left untouched by the joy around him.

"You've hardly said a word in the last hour," said Princess Odette.

"My apologies, m'lady."

The swan ruffled her feathers, a little exasperated. "You needn't address me formally for social occasions."

".....my apologies, _Relena._"

The girl's eyes danced at the sound of her name being spoken by her elegant prince, and she smiled warmly. Satisfied that her escort was loosening up a bit, she went back to studying her dance card, while the orchestra was on a break. Cake and champagne were being passed around during the interval, and Relena partook heartily of both, while Heero went back to listening to the ambient conversations.

So far, he hadn't heard one single syllable regarding the tontine, which made good sense. If Dorothy knew, she would naturally want to keep Quatre's secret all to herself, lest every young girl in London would be on his doorstep. And if she wanted to manipulate him without anyone noticing, her strategy would have to be--

"Heero! This is out waltz!" Relena cried joyfully, derailing his train of thought. "My next two dances are with the Earl of Chichester's nephew, so make the most of it!" She would have preferred to save every dance for Heero, but it was terribly uncouth to turn down any of the other gentlemen who asked her for a dance.

The orchestra charged ahead into a Viennese waltz, and the Prince and Princess of Bridlewood began sailing across the dance floor with a hundred other couples. Partners were frequently swapped during the course of an evening such as this, and indeed, Heero noted that both Dorothy and Lady Une were being entertained by other men.

That meant that Treize and Otto should have been dancing or at least talking to other women, but as Heero surveyed the room, they were nowhere to be seen. Both gone at the same time; he found that a little bit unsettling.

He kept an eye out for them for the duration of the waltz, despite Relena's best efforts to attract his eye back in her direction. To keep her happy and secure in the 'knowledge' that he only had eyes for her, he occasionally worked some of his mystical charm on her, peppering the conversation with compliments that never failed to bring a blush to her cheek. He needed to stay in her house very badly, and couldn't afford to have her lose interst and fire him on the grounds of romantic indifference.

**********  
  


Outside the dance hall, dressed with an almost military air, was a tall, portly man attending the door. It was his duty to check the invitations of all those who approached the door, costumed or not, and make quite sure that the riff-raff were kept well away. In the last hour and a half, he had seen all manner of cheats and liars from the lower classes trying to trick their way inside, but he could never have anticipated the visitor who was now walking swiftly towards him--a young priest carrying a carpet bag.

"Your invitation, sir?" the doorman said dryly.

The priest blessed the man with the sign of the cross and presented an outstretched palm in a regal fashion. "I implore you to let me pass, my good man, for the spirit of the Lord is greatly needed in this den of sin and licentiousness!"

The doorman squared his shoulders. "No admittance without an invitation, _sir_."

"Whatever. Step aside, tubby." The priest tried to walk around the man but was caught by the arm and dragged back away from the door.

"I don't think you're achieving comprehension, sir," the bouncer said gruffly, leaning down closer, "no invitation," and closer, "no admittance," and closer, "_no exceptions!_" Their noses were almost touching. "Now, on your bike!"

The priest pouted angrily and stomped away. "The Bishop of Canterbury is gonna hear about _you_, pal! Him and me go _way_ back! And you'd better make up for this at your next confession!" He marched in the opposite direction with his carpet bag, scratching at his neck where his long brown hair was tucked down the inside of the black frock coat he'd spent nearly all his money renting from the costumier. _Sheesh, what a way to treat a member of the clergy! Looks like I'll have to find another way inside..._

**********  
  


Some time later, the evening's activities turned from waltzes and two-steps to lively group dances, but by the end of the first quadrille, Treize still hadn't returned. Otto was back with Dorothy, however, ending a long and tiresome gossip session between her and Relena during which Heero was forced to absorb entire novels on the subject of whose gown was made by which high-class designer.

Soon, the guests gathered for the Virginia Reel, danced in a circular style. Two rings were formed, one encircling the other, ladies on the outside and gentlemen on the inside. Heero and Relena started the dance opposite each other, but after a few steps, turns and twirls, both circles faced each other and took a step to the left so that everyone received a new partner. In the space of ten minutes, Heero danced with Catherine the Great, a fairy princess, an Amazon, two Juliets, and a very realistic Queen Elizabeth.

As it happened, his next partner was Lady Une. He had never been given ample opportunity to needle her for information about Treize, and if he wanted anything from her that night, he had less than two minutes to get it before everyone switched partners again. He gave her a daring smile. "Your Count isn't taking very good care of you tonight, is he?"

Lady Une smiled seductively back at him. Though she loved to tease Relena about her secret crush, she had no idea the normally docile butler was such a shameless flirt when let off his leash. "Do I take that to mean you could do better?"

Heero tightened his grip on her hand a little as they maneuvered through the steps of the dance. "I certainly wouldn't run off and disappear, leaving such a charming woman alone with a pack of hungry wolves such as these so-called 'gentlemen'."

"I only see _one_ hungry wolf at the moment," Une teased, "and I'll have you know he didn't simply 'run off'. He spotted a business acquaintance across the room and went over to have a chat, that's all."

_'Business acquaintance?' Now we're getting somewhere..._ "I hope he gave you the gentleman's name. You wouldn't like to think he was entertaining another fair lady in some dark corner, would you?" He kept throwing her the same smouldering glances he used on Relena, and they seemed to work just as well. For Heero, charm and charisma could be turned on and off like a light switch.

Une smiled coyly at what she interpreted as an attempt to make her jealous. "He didn't need to prove who it was, I've seen the gentleman myself! Nice try, though...I can see why Lady Peacecraft keeps _you_ around."

They completed a series of twirls and swings, and the entire group began to promenade around the circle, preparing to swap partners yet again. Something caught Heero's eye; standing over by one of the ornate crystal punch bowls was Treize, speaking very closely in low tones with a tall, stocky man without much in the way of a costume. In fact, the man was simply wearing street clothes. The lively music covered any scraps of their conversation that might have flown Heero's way, but whatever it was kept both men deeply engrossed.

The dancers stopped their circular procession, took four steps forward and four steps back in time with the music, and took their partners by the arm once again. It was then that Treize and the stocky intruder looked _directly_ at Heero. They whispered back and forth, and Treize nodded. Heero fought to appear calm, but inside he was struck hard with a terrifying thought. _I've been made..._

The 'business acquaintance' Une spoke of looked nothing more than a common street thug, but she was probably having too nice a time at the ball to be bothered noticing the difference. Heero was being pointed out to the man, singled out, recognized, and he cursed his own foolishness for attending the ball unarmed. Regrettably, there had been no place anywhere on the close-fitting costume to successfully hide his gun.

A few partner-changes later, and the dance was finally over. Heero was immediately looking for Treize and his thug, but they were both gone again. There were many possible explanations for what he had seen, but the one that stuck with him the longest was also the worst. _Treize will make some excuse to leave early, some pretense on which he can separate me from the rest of the group. Then, the very next moment I'm alone, his 'hired fist' will come find me and--_

"Don't let me interrupt your little hypnotic trance," a snide female voice said, "but there's a gentleman looking for you, it seems."

Heero turned around to meet the frosty eyes of Marie Antoinette, wearing an impeccable Dorothy disguise. "Who is it?" he asked curtly, wondering if Treize's thug was even going to bother waiting until the ball was over to come after him.

"Well, I don't know, do I!?" Dorothy whined in a huffy tone. "People are just saying that there's a guest looking for the gentleman dancing with the swan. He's not wearing a nametag!"

"I don't exactly have exclusive rights to her Ladyship," the butler pointed out, "several other gentlemen have been entertaining her tonight."

Dorothy's eyes blazed. "Fine, you ingrate! Do what you like. I only meant to be helpful, but obviously I was just wasting my time!" She turned on her heel and walked briskly away, only to look back after a few paces. "And I'll expect you to address me with a little more respect when we get back to Bridlewood, young man!"

Heero shook his head as the mass of frills and lace stomped away. Any further help from Dorothy truly wasn't required, as he only needed to question two other people to find out that the person looking for him was dressed as a priest. He looked across the room; Relena was still safely coiled around the arm of the Earl of Chichester's nephew, and seemed to be enjoying herself just fine without him. He set off in search of the mystery man, confused after remembering that Treize's thug wasn't dressed in any sort of costume at all. _If it's not him looking for me, then who is it? Who else even knew I'd be here?_

As he wove his way through the crowd, Heero wasn't looking at faces, but collars. He finally spotted the traditional white-on-black, but as soon as he did, the man wearing it darted out of sight, almost deliberately. A brief, shining flash of violet and chestnut, and he ws gone. Heero stopped and blinked, as if he'd merely seen a phantom of his own imagination...but it seemed too real not to be true. He dove forward and chased the figure in black all over the ballroom, no quicker than a brisk walk, until he saw his quarry duck through a door leading out onto the terrace.

Heero burst through the door. Leaning quite languidly against the cast-iron railing, dressed completely in black except for his collar and a silver cross, was a broadly smiling Duo. "Caught me!" he said.

Taking a hesitant step forward, Heero raised his mask and let it sit on his forehead, as if hoping to get a clearer view of the apparition. Duo was clad in a black waistcoat and trousers with a priest's neckpiece tucked underneath, over his shirt. Flowing over the ensemble was a black frock coat, slightly gathered at the back around his middle, in such a way that it gave him a rather shapely silhouette. Heero was at a loss for words.

"Like it?" Duo asked, twirling once for effect. "Nobody lasts five minutes in there without being dressed as _something_...only problem was, that greedy bunch of snooty snobs took all the good costumes! This was all they had left!" It was hardly standard fare for a fancy dress ball; it didn't even come with a mask.

Heero's mind worked feverishly; his friend had arrived at positively the worst possible time, when it seemed Treize was plotting to make him disappear in a dark alley. He walked up close to Duo and grabbed him roughly by the arm. "You've got to get out of here."

Duo looked hurt that he didn't seem glad to see his faithful assistant. "But...after all the trouble I went through to get here, just...so I could..."

"No arguments," Heero said firmly, shaking him a little. "This is a _direct order_. Go home _now_!"

Duo seemed to think it over; in reality, he could tell something wasn't right. "I know you don't do anything without a good reason," he said, "so if you can give me a good reason for leaving, then I'll go." He looked Heero silently in the eyes, then glanced away sadly. "Unless you're just having too good a time with Relena and the rich folk that you don't want me around to ruin it."

The words struck Heero hard in the center of his chest, and again he was speechless. _How could you think I'd let class decide who my friends are?_ he thought bitterly. Then he decided; if Duo wanted a good reason to obey orders, he'd just have to give him one. He dragged the boy over to the glass panel door and pointed. "There's a man in there, wearing street clothes, about six-foot-four, weighs at least fifteen stone, looks like an escapee from Dartmoor Prison. Do you see him?"

Puzzled, Duo peered through the glass. There was indeed a brutal-looking ruffian milling about, though the guests seemed to dismiss him as either being in a ruffian costume or being one of the bouncers. He knew, however, from recent experience, that the real bouncers didn't look nearly as menacing. The man kept strictly to the outside walls of the room, avoiding people in general; he seemed to be looking for something, or someone.

Duo pulled away from the door. "Yeah, I see him."

"Treize pointed me out to him from a distance. I suspect he's waiting for me to leave the premises, at which time I also suspect he's been ordered to silence me in whatever manner he chooses."

"Oh my God," Duo gasped, eyes wide, "we must've really ticked him off."

"But as far as Treize knows, you were just following me around and had nothing to do with anything," Heero said, "and if you leave now, you have a good chance of getting home safely."

Duo shook his head in horror. "No! I won't leave you here if it means you're honestly going to be attacked in some dark alley somewhere! I should be _with_ you!"

"You don't know the first thing about defending yourself in a fight," Heero said compassionately, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Remember how easily I've subdued you in the past? And I'm only half _his_ size. Anyway..." He tried to manage a small smile to console the boy. "One or two thugs in an alley I can handle. For me, it's not that difficult."

"What if there's more of them?" Duo cried. "You don't really know what you're walking into, until it happens!" He lowered his head and appeared close to tears. "If you already know they're coming for you after the ball, why don't you try to _avoid_ them? Why don't you just leave early? It's not worth the risk!"

Heero stepped back and folded his arms. "That's an odd thing to hear from you, after you almost got us killed, twice."

"Yeah, but that was different!" Duo hollered with his hands in the air. "I was totally in control then, and I never dared you to walk into an ambush of hired goons! If you just hate backing down from a fair fight, okay, I can understand that, but I don't see this as very fair!"

The heated exchange cooled down a little, after a few tense moments of silence. Duo walked up to the stoic Prince Siegfried, until their toes were almost touching. He reached out and unfolded the other boy's arms, letting them fall gently while lacing their fingers together. He stared solemnly at the ground.

"Don't go," Duo whispered. "Come with me instead. It might only be delaying the inevitable, but at least it'll give you time to prepare, to make it a fair fight. We can slip out the back, and they'll just think you went out drinking or something." He let a faint smirk past the wall of fearful concern. "Hell, I even brought you a change of clothes so we could _both_ go out drinking, but that was before I knew Treize wanted your kneecaps relocated to a new postcode."

Heero couldn't help but smirk back a little. Running away didn't seem very honourable, but only because he knew of the ambush ahead of time. He could always assume he might not have seen Treize conspiring in a corner, that Duo might have arrived at the same time that he did, and that they might have decided to stuff the party and go have a pint at the Muddy Nag. He doubted very much that anyone at the ball would particularly miss him, especially since Relena's dance card was filled with other lad's names, and he certainly wouldn't miss them either.

Duo saw that he was just barely teetering on the edge of acceptance, and decided to give him a push. "It'd really cheese Treize off _bad_ if he went to all this trouble of hiring goons and it turned out they had no one to whack." He grinned.

Heero slowly grinned back. "It would, wouldn't it?"

**********  
  


Treize steered Lady Une over to another pack of gossipy females for what he hoped would be the last time. He preferred to keep her separate from his shadier dealings, and one of Otto's men had just given him a hand signal from across the room, requesting a quick conference.

They met covertly behind a tall potted plant, and the churlish brute gave the Count a brief report on where the target had last been seen. Treize nodded. "I'll leave the fine details up to you, but make sure you get the name of his employer. If it's not too far to walk, leave him on his master's doorstep. He ought to be discovered by morning and taken to a physician. We don't want a murder case on our hands, now do we?" he said with a devious smile.

The cockney brute nodded and complied in a gravelly voice. "Right you are, gov."

"And if his master is too far out of the way..." Treize tilted his head back and forth, and hummed, thinking. "Any street that's busy in broad daylight will do."

Seemingly unnoticed by the pair, two darkly clad boys crept back into the ballroom, hoping to avoid their eyes, and slipped past them into the hall. Abandoning the glitz and pomp for good, they chose instead the darkened, unused passages towards the back of the building. The priest led the prince through a maze crafted of plaster and Persian rugs, to the room where he had secretly stashed his precious parcel earlier.

Duo opened the door to the empty cloakroom, let Heero pass, then shut it tightly behind them. Without turning on the gaslamp, which might have alerted someone to their presence, Duo retrieved the carpet bag from under the counter and passed it to his partner, who immediately retreated to the darkest corner of the room to swap garments. "I don't suppose you happened to pack my gun," he called out from the blackness.

"Sorry," Duo replied meekly, with an unseen smirk. He stood at the one tiny window in the room and stared out at the empty street, bathed in soft moonlight, and the few stars peeking out from behind the clouds. Behind him, the sound of rumpled cloth falling to the floor was becomine more unnerving by the second. _I must be losing my mind..._ Duo was often plagued with the most peculiar thoughts, and they seemed to be increasing as the weeks wore on..._and_ it had not escaped his attention that they always occurred when Heero was near. He folded his arms and fixed his eyes on a lamppost across the road. _Take a deep breath and count to ten._

Heero came up close behind him and put the carpet bag on the counter between them. "Do you want your chef's uniform?" He was just buttoning his shirt.

Duo swallowed. _Make that twenty._ "No thanks, I'm actually kinda used to this getup." _And maybe it'll deter me from impure thoughts..._

As soon as the butler was his old self in one of his everyday suits, they packed up, went to the cloakroom door, and... "Itai?" A series of clicks was Heero's only reward for turning the doorhandle.

"What?"

"It won't open."

Outside in the hall, the second of Treize's hired thugs, this one an experienced thief trained in stealth, crept away clutching a little silver key.

**********  
  


The party started breaking up around midnight, and the Count treated it as his solemn duty, as Relena's only blood relative present, to see to it that his little niece was home in bed at a decent hour. When the time came to leave, however, Heero was strangely missing. She pointedly refused to go until he was located, whatever his condition, and packed into the carriage with the rest of them.

"He wouldn't just wander off without telling me where he was going! He's not like that!" the swan girl cried. She paced back and forth in front of Dorothy, who gave a sympathetic ear. "We were really starting to communicate! He was responding to all those things you told me to do! Why would he just leave?"

Dorothy led her by the arm from the nearly empty ballroom to the front door. "Maybe he saw you with all those other charming gentlemen and thought perhaps he wasn't needed," she said in a sarcastic tone.

"So...it's my fault?" Relena asked sadly, taking off her feathered headdress.

"Certainly not!" Dorothy proclaimed as they walked to their carriage. "If he sees you being entertained by a rival, it becomes his _duty_ to win you back! Your escort should treat you like a _goddess_ at all times, and if it looks like you might stray, he's supposed to lavish attention on you until the temptation is overcome."

Treize and Otto followed the girls a few paces behind, and Trowa sat up straight in his driver's perch, above the drowsy horses; all were listening to Dorothy explain the finer points of capturing a man. "If he's so weak as to let his pride be hurt by you having a perfectly innocent, amiable chat with an eligible young man...or two," she said, putting on her gloves, "then he's most likely gone off somewhere to sulk. He'll probably crawl back home tomorrow morning after a night's carousing, with his tail between his legs and begging you for forgiveness."

Relena looked doubtful, but had to admit it was a possibility. "I suppose so." The girls climbed into the carriage and waited for their elders. Above them, Trowa mulled over what he'd just overheard, and decided something didn't sound right about it, but also that there was nothing he could do, one way or the other.

A few feet away, Treize turned his back to the carriage and smiled cunningly at Otto. "She's probably right about the crawling bit," he joked without mirth.

Otto swallowed and shuffled his feet. "My Lord...now that I've thought about it...well, it's not too late...if we want to call it off..."

Treize raised an eyebrow. "Second thoughts, Otto? There's no room for that in _my_ army," he whispered. "Now, take the girls home, and I'll be along in Lady Une's company before long."

The house steward lowered his eyes and nodded. In a little while, he would be guilty of a serious crime, albeit in absentia, but the Count could not be defied in his infinite wisdom. The party-goers boarded their respective vehicles and disappeared down the darkened street.

**********  
  


Picking a lock from the wrong side of the door, in the dark, was difficult but not impossible, at least for Duo. They had discovered, after realizing they were locked in, that the gaslamp they thought they were ignoring earlier, in actuality, wasn't there at all. The window was too small to climb through, so the door was the only way out, and the former thief was hard at work for a good half-hour before the boys were freed from the dark cloakroom.

The entire building appeared empty; all the guests were gone, and the front door was also locked for the night, with a key; after a lengthy examination of the mechanism, Duo sadly announced that he couldn't break through with only a hairpin and a brooch from the lost-and-found bin. They had to find another way out.

Only one door in the place was left unsecured, a door at the very back of the building, going from the kitchen into what appeared to be a dark alley. Heero realized with dismay that the situation Treize was trying to set up, the one he and Duo had been trying even harder to avoid, had come to pass regardless. Heero pulled his head back inside the kitchen and turned to his partner.

"Listen very carefully. I want you to go out this door, straight down the alley, and don't look back. Keep walking until you find a pub that's open, or a brightly-lit area with lots of people. Stay there until I come to get you. Understood?" He was banking on the probability that even hired goons wouldn't strike a man of the cloth.

Duo struggled for excuses not to leave Heero on his own, but the Japanese boy wasn't budging. Still carrying the carpet bag, he tiptoed nervously into the alley and looked back at Heero one last time before the door shut behind him. "Be careful," Duo whispered.

Trembling with every step, he walked towards the end of the alley, towards safety, towards escape... _Towards the line-up to register as a certified coward,_ he thought bitterly. It felt utterly awful running away, but it was what Heero wanted, and he reminded himself of that when he felt eyes looking him over. He adjusted his priest's collar and whistled a hymn for good measure. _Coward._

If there really was anyone lying in wait, they let the clergyman pass without revealing themselves. Once he was out of the alley, Duo walked a little more quickly to the other side of the street, but instead of heading for a safe area as instructed, he ducked into a doorway and watched the gap in the walls where he had emerged. Minutes ticked past, but Heero didn't appear. There was no activity at all until two darkly-dressed men converged on the alley from opposite sides of the street, nodded to each other, and slipped inside.

Duo's breath caught in his throat.

**********  
  


Heero counted to fifty, and stepped out into the alley. To the right was a dead end, and to the left was the long walk out to the street. Thankfully, he couldn't see Duo, and assumed he'd made it out safely. _Now...do I go to them, or wait for them to come to me?_

He could sense their presence, one to the left and one to the right as he took a few steps towards the exit. It was only a short wait before the first of his assailants sprang out at him.

A tall, moustached brute jumped in front of Heero and took a fast swing at him. Heero grabbed the flying arm with his left hand and used the man's forward inertia to drive the heel of his right hand into his jaw. The second thug slithered up behind him wielding a wooden board, swinging it back and taking careful aim at his victim's head. Heero heard the man inhale and threw a savage back kick behind him, just as the villain swung; the kick connected with the board and shattered it. While the man jumped in shock and looked at the splintered remains of his weapon, Heero landed another kick to the first thug's stomach, grabbed him by his scraggly coat, and threw him into the second thug, sending them both into the wall.

More footsteps rang out from the open end of the alley, and another two goons, at least six feet tall apiece, ran in to join the fight. The butler delivered enough blows to the man with the wooden board to knock him out before they arrived, and by then it was a whole new ball game. He was pushed to the limit holding off the pair, and now the first thug was picking himself up off the ground. Having wasted most of his energy dancing throughout the night, he was already fighting tired and moving slower than usual--Treize had probably counted on that. The goons were just beginning to overwhelm him, and had actually landed a punch or two of their own, when an angry voice pierced the din.

"Hey, you big, clunky meatheads! I've seen bull terriers with leprosy that had better faces on 'em than you!" Duo had run a few paces into the alley and was throwing stones at the villains.

Heero pinned one of the surprised thugs to the wall and came close to panicking for Duo's safety. "No, don't! Get _out_ of here!!"

Duo kept throwing stones and caught one of the ducking brutes over the left eye, hard enough to draw blood. "You want a fight!? Come and _get_ me!"

The goon struck by the rock left Heero and went after the priest. Heero used the confusion to flatten one of the two men remaining and run past the third, hoping to reach Duo before he did. Smaller size and greater speed won out, and the boys were out of the fracas and a short dash from the exit, when suddenly two _more_ burly men appeared from the street.

The boys froze. Duo clung to Heero's arm, certain that he'd bitten off more than he could chew this time. There were two thugs in front of them and three behind, plus one unconsious, and Heero was already tired out from battling. _This is exactly how he planned it, to wear me down little by little...and now they'll get Duo, too. All because I was careless...so careless..._ Keeping Duo behind him, he backed up close to the brick wall as the five ruffians closed in on them from all sides.

Duo wrapped his arms protectively around Heero from behind, hyperventilating. The boy craved excitement, but this was too much of the wrong kind. He buried his face in Heero's shoulder. "I'm sorry..."

Heero reached up and clasped one of Duo's pale hands, eyes ablaze at his opponents, offering his friend a split second of reassurance before the boys were forcibly wrenched apart. It took only one man to subdue the petrified priest, but he struggled enough that his braid escaped from the back of his coat as he thrashed vainly in the rogue's grip.

That left four men for Heero to deal with, and he poured all he had left into a barrage of kicks and punches only faster than the thug's reaction time by the blink of an eye, but it wasn't enough. Eventually, they fought past his precise, surgical blows and grabbed hold of him, one on each arm and a third restraining him from behind. The fourth wiped a fresh trail of blood from his split lip, glowered at the child who had caused him so much trouble, and slammed a fist brutally and viciously into the boy's stomach.

Duo cried out and struggled harder as he witnessed the unbreakable Heero Yuy doubled over from the force of the blow. The stoic boy didn't make a sound as a second punch connected with his jaw, but his mind reeled with thoughts that he didn't have enough breath to verbalize. Foremost on his list of worries at that moment was not how disappointed Lord Jeffrhyss would be, or what form his punishment might take, but how the cruel tormenters might hurt Duo once they were finished with him. The bitter defeat weighed heavily on his guilty heart.

Without warning, as Duo watched the horrific scene, he felt something heavy fall on him, or perhaps near him, as he didn't feel the full force of the impact. The scoundrel that held him by the arms, however, gave a cry of pain and dropped to the ground, taking the braided boy down with him. Nobody was more surprised than Duo, who got up and immediately scampered across the alley, away from a strange black form that seemed to have dropped out of the sky right on top of the man.

More confused yells spread through the ruffians' ranks as the leading man who struck Heero was suddenly levelled by something none of them could see. Then the man holding Heero's left arm was taken out with one blow. With the assailants broken apart into more manageable chunks, Heero got a second wind and launched another attack on the villains.

Duo watched from a crouching position a few feet away. There was a dark blur, about Heero's height, moving almost too fast to be seen and aiding him in the battle. Stray bits of moonlight invaded the alleyway at random, and Duo could just make out a lithe silhouette, wrapped head to toe in black except for a slit around two dark, slanted eyes.

Between Heero and the blur, the four thugs still standing were given a sound beating, while two now lay unconscious. Soon, they opted to do the sensible thing and make a run for it. They abandoned their fallen comrades and bolted out of the alley, leaving three young victors to revel in their triumph.

Heero went straight to where Duo was still curled up on the ground and helped him to his feet. The shaky chef wanted badly to hug his brave protector, but restrained himself out of concern that the goons might have broken Heero's ribs. Slowly, both their gazes fell on the figure in black, who stood facing the open end of the alley, fists clenching and unclenching in dissatisfaction over the brief duration of the battle.

Heero got a strange feeling from the intruder. Motioning for Duo to stay put, he crept up behind the figure to get a closer look; there appeared to be some sort of black hood covering it's head. In one swift movement, he snatched the hood off; the figure whirled around and they stared at each other in shock.

It was the asian boy that had been following Heero since Treize arrived.

Before Heero even had a chance to demand his name, the boy struck him with a palm fist to the chin, knocking the fatigued lad off balance and straight into Duo's worried arms. In a flash, the boy was gone, using Heero's stunned fall as a cover to escape.

_...sometimes you just don't know who your friends are,_ Heero thought, rubbing his chin where he was hit and wondering about the mysterious asian's true motives. He felt tentative arms snake around his shoulders, curling into a concerned embrace as Duo laid his head on his left shoulder and nuzzled his neck. Heero managed a faint smile. _Then again, sometimes you do._

**********  
  


After the melée, Duo and Heero didn't stick around very long, preferring not to be there when the last two thugs woke up. Duo magically produced the faithful carpet bag from a doorway, stuffed his dog-collar into it, as it was now digging uncomfortably into his neck, and they half-ran, half-jogged down the street. They were much too far from home to walk, there were no cabbies out at such a late hour, and for once they didn't have enough money between them to find a room somewhere and crash for the night. Worse than that, Heero seemed to be favouring one ankle, and twice he had to pause altogether, leaning against a building and coughing as he clutched his ribs. Duo couldn't take watching it for very long, and insisted that what Heero really needed was a doctor.

"Absolutely _not_," the butler protested.

"What the hell's the matter with you?" Duo chided. "You took a pummelling back there, and now you're not walking right!"

Heero shook his head. "It wasn't that bad, and we can keep it from getting worse by not letting it be publicly known. Treize probably had eyes and ears all over London, and if he hears I'm injured, he'll think he's won." The words had only just left his lips when another coughing fit gripped him, and he had to fight to stay standing.

Duo propped him up, ignoring his objections. "This is nuts! You think he won't notice you limping around the house for the next week? And you think those goons won't tell him what happened?"

"None of that matters," Heero said weakly. "I don't want him to think he can get to me with these sort of tactics." He straightened up and tried to assess his own injuries. "Besides, I shouldn't be asking for anyone's help...this was all my fault to begin with. I knew he'd try something..."

Duo twitched. "Wait a minute, back up. You knew _before_ you saw Mr. Escapee from Dartmoor Prison walking around the party, or _after_?"

Heero exhaled sharply from frustration and self-reproach. "In a way, before..." He proceeded to tell Duo all about his run-in with Treize on the third floor, omitting no details about the way he was shoved around, insulted, and threatened to stay away.

After listening to the story, Duo stepped back, eyes wide, and looked like he'd just been asked to turn water into wine. He paced and huffed and ran his fingers through his bangs for a full thirty seconds before facing Heero and finding his voice. "How could you be so _stupid!?_"

This time, Heero twitched. That wasn't the response he'd been expecting. In fact, he was hoping to use it as a demonstration that he and Duo should part ways for his own safety. "..._what?_"

"Don't you see what he was doing?" the chef hollered. "He was testing you to see how dangerous you really are! If you'd just swallowed your pride and acted even a little scared while he was pushing you around, he wouldn't have clocked you as that much of a threat! He would've figured you really weren't worth bothering with, and he _certainly_ wouldn't have sent a platoon of gorillas to take you out!

"If there's one thing I learned from life on the streets, it's that anyone who looks like they can challenge the big fish gets cut down before they get the chance! That's why you appear weak and inferior on purpose, no matter how much it stings, because if you don't, you get your face smashed in!" He stopped in front of Heero and poked him in the uninjured center of his chest. "You've got a serious problem, but it's not Treize, it's your own damn pride!"

"I wouldn't complain about that if I were you," Heero snapped, shoving the hand away, "my 'own damn pride' is what pushes me to go on your little thrill-seeking ventures when common sense tells me to stay at home with a good book!"

Duo shrugged and smiled. "Okay, so it's not totally a bad thing. But if you wanna make up for a surplus of pride at all the wrong times, you start by choosing to have a deficit of the same at all the right times." He folded his arms and looked his battered friend over from head to foot. "Let me take you to a doctor. Please."

Heero held his aching side and looked doubtful, genuinely too tired to argue any further. "I...I don't know if there's anyone I can trust...I don't want anyone to find out about this." _Least of all, Jeffrhyss._

The pair stood there and thought for a bit, then Duo perked up and smiled. "How about that lady doctor? She seemed like a decent sort of person, and I'll bet she'd keep it a secret if we asked her to! Do you remember where her office is?"

The braided ball of energy spoke so fast that Heero didn't even realize that he was giving in to the boy's demands. "...Trafalgar Street..."

"That's not too far! We can make it! Come on..." Duo gave Heero his free arm to lean on and led him carefully down the road, letting him rest along the way whenever he needed to. It was actually farther than either of them thought, but they were using up the last of their collective pride on not giving up.

**********  
  


Somewhere in the twilight world between sleep and wakefulness, a young woman was dreaming of a green and beautiful land, with great rivers and tall trees, and a long wall lit by the setting sun, winding across the hills like a dragon's tail. She envisioned herself running happily through the woods as a child, among ginkgo trees and bamboo shoots, until she came upon a magical black and white bear-like creature, with whom she often spoke.

As she knelt down to hear it's wisdom, however, it decided to surprise her with something completely new. When the creature opened it's mouth to speak, it sounded like a doorbell. The girl sat back and looked puzzled. The striped bear tried to speak again, but the sound of someone knocking on a door came out. It bashfully covered it's mouth with it's furry paws, and the woman woke from her dream.

She sat up slowly and rubbed her eyes, heard the bells and the knocks with sickening clarity, and frowned. "Ohhhh, what on Earth...." She lit the bedside lamp, looked at the clock, and frowned even further. _If this is some sort of perverse joke, I swear..._

Hastily wrapping her dressing gown around her shoulders, she picked up the lamp and plodded downstairs, while the knocking grew louder and more insistent. _...better be a good reason...ugh...two in the morning..._ "Alright, alright, I'm coming!" The woman reached her front door and angrily threw it open. "Yes!?"

"Uh...medic?" came a weary, timid voice.

As soon as she saw the pitiful figures on her doorstep, her eyes went wide and she gasped, recognizing the visitors as the two young men she met in the street only a week earlier. The long-haired one had the other's arm hung around his neck, and seemed to be holding him upright. "What happened to you!?"

"He walked into a door."

"Duo..." the injured one growled.

"Alright, it was a swinging door, but he's a little sensitive about it, okay?"

She quickly let them in and showed them to a sitting room at the back of her modest two-storey townhouse that served as an examination room. It was warmly decorated and quite feminine, and for the patient, there was a red plush chaise longue in the middle of the room. Duo set his blue-eyed parcel down on it and backed away, giving the strawberry blonde woman plenty of room to work.

"I apologize for this, Dr. Poole," Heero said.

"It's alright," she replied as she collected her diagnostic instruments from a nearby cabinet. "There's nothing in the Hippocratic Oath that says being a doctor is strictly a nine-to-five job." She tied up her dressing gown and turned to Duo. "You can wait in the next room while I have a look at your friend."

Duo bit his lip and looked at Heero. He nodded, but Duo didn't really want to leave. "Well..."

"And you can help yourself to the lemon tarts in the kitchen," she added with a knowing smile.

The boy's expression brightened and he agreed at once, disappearing down the hall with a word of thanks. Dr. Poole shut the door after him and sat down next to her patient. She glanced him over once, surveyed the extent of the damage, and folded her arms. "You have something you want to tell me?"

Heero could tell she was a real get-to-the-point woman. He respected that. "It took some cajoling on his part to get me here, mostly because I have to demand the utmost in secrecy," he said, propping himself up a bit. "Not only do I require that nothing you learn of go any farther than this room, but I will also have to ask you to keep some of it from my friend as well."

Dr. Poole raised an eyebrow. "You've piqued my curiosity, alright." Her hair wasn't up in it's typical puffy pompadour style, but hung past her shoulders, and she quickly tied it into two little twists to keep it out of the way as she worked. "Well, let's have a look at you."

Slowly, with as much pain as reluctance, Heero took off his jacket, waistcoat, and slowest of all, his crisp white shirt. There were several bruises underneath, of varying depths and sizes, but they weren't what caught the doctor's eye and made her crawl closer to him in shock. "...good Lord above..." she whispered.

Criss-crossing the boy's back were dozens of long, thin scars, seemingly no wider across than spidersilk. They were the tiniest bit lighter than the rest of his skin, and when she looked closer, there were dozens more that were even lighter, going back for years and years. "I take it this is what you don't want him to see?"

Heero nodded uncomfortably. He was holding himself up very stiffly and had a deathgrip on the chair's edge with both hands.

"How did you get so many scars like this?" she asked in a soft, motherly tone, tracing the network of lines gently with her fingertips. _Someone's taken a whip to this boy even since he was a child..._

"Just fix what needs fixing," Heero said gruffly, "enough that I can go about my regular duties tomorrow."

Dr. Poole sighed lightly and opened her black Gladstone bag. "I'll let it go, but not forever," she said firmly. "If you're officially my patient from now on, someday I want to hold someone accountable for this."

"....hn." That was the third time in a row that someone had been needlessly concerned for his well-being that evening; he wasn't used to it. True to her word, the doctor ignored the old injuries and focused entirely on the new ones, and Heero came to recognize what Duo found so pleasant about letting her examine him earlier, even though it was in the middle of the street. She had a kind, gentle touch that genuinely meant to heal him rather than hurt him; he wasn't used to that, either.

In the next room, Duo slowly took his ear away from the wall and swallowed, trembling. It made sense now, why Heero always went into another room to change clothes for bed. _Someone must have done something awful to him, and he doesn't want me to know,_ he thought, sadly curious about what sort of scars they were. He remembered all the times he playfully punched Heero in the arm, or slapped him hard on the back. He hugged his knees to his chest and silently promised never to do that again.

After a little while, Dr. Poole invited Duo back into the examination room, and he went quickly to his friend's side. "How 'ya doin', champ?" he said with a grin.

Heero gave him a weak copy of his own grin while Dr. Poole ran over the list of injuries. "Your friend here was actually pretty lucky. His ribs are bruised, but not broken, he has a slight sprain in the right ankle, which I've taped up, he's inhaled some carbon dust that's making him cough, but the rest is just bruises. He'll be fine, although I'm not all that thrilled with him going straight back to work." She brushed a stray lock of hair over her shoulder and looked at the pair suspiciously. "I also haven't been told how all this happened, and I'm betting I'm not going to know either...unless you think the police will be knocking on my door come the morning?"

Duo shook his head. "Doubt it."

"Alright then," she said with slightly narrowed eyes, "you can both spend the night, and take a cab home in the morning. I think I can trust you boys at least that long, and I certainly don't want him walking home in his condition." She picked up her lamp and turned to go. "I'm going to say help yourself to anything you need because I'm honestly too tired to do otherwise."

She and Duo said their good-nights, and she went back upstairs. Duo pulled a big armchair next to the chaise longue where Heero was lying, well-bandaged and heavy-lidded, and curled up in it. "I was a naughty mouse again today, wasn't I?" he said, blowing out the only light in the room.

"Hn?"

"I disobeyed orders. I came after you in the alley even though you told me to run for it."

"I'm not angry, if that's what you're worried about."

Duo propped his head up cozily with a throw cushion. "Actually, I'm more worried about you going back to work tomorrow like nothing's wrong. She's right, you know, you should be resting."

Heero smirked faintly at the darkness. "I want to see Treize's face in the morning when he sees me up and about."

"Yeah, I wanna see that too!" Duo laughed. "Even thought it's just your pride talking again...and by the way...I didn't mean to call you stupid back there, I didn't mean it. It's just...for all you know about the world, all those languages, and how to solve mysteries and all that, the one thing you haven't got is street smarts." Duo yawned and stretched and stroked his braid. "Lucky for you, I've got enough street smarts for both of us. Face it, Heero...you _need_ me."

Heero thought long and hard about that; after all the trouble Duo had gotten into, he still wanted to be his assistant, regardless of the risks. Somehow, firing him to keep him out of danger didn't seem like such a viable option anymore. He didn't know why, but he felt relieved.

"Heero?" the chef said sleepily.

"Mmm?"

"How do you say mouse?"

"Nezumi."

Duo smiled. "...that's cute...I like it..."

Heero settled in a little more comfortably and laid his head back. Sleep was rapidly overtaking them both. "...Duo-nezu..."

Duo giggled a bit through closed lips before his breathing slowed and evened out. With his last ounce of strength, Heero reached out to the mouse and let his hand come in contact with his spiky bangs, feeling them fall softly over his weary fingers and marvelling at the boy's courageous loyalty.

_.....little brown mouse.....Duo-nezu....._

His last thoughts were of his friend before falling into a long, peaceful, pleasant sleep.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


> _Next, in Episode Fifteen: In the aftermath of the fancy dress affair, Treize is none too pleased that his nemesis remains, but must focus on comforting his niece in her emotional trials. Quatre becomes the victim of a flashy attempt on his life, while Heero confronts the mysterious boy from the alleyway._

=*_*= ....hell yeah. I haven't worked so hard on anything before this episode. Wow. I love the whole mouse thing, you might as well know. =^-^= *girlish giggle* Some questions have been answered, but a whole lot more new ones have popped up! They'll all be taken care of in the fullness of time, and I guess everyone knows now why Treize acted so un-Treize-like. *winkywinky* He's a smarty, that one...I wish I was that smart, then maybe I could write a little faster, but hey, this is a pretty good pace, ne? Episode 15 is already out, and 16 will arrive August 29th. **NOW...**this episode was rather starved for reviews since it was released during the FFN outage, so don't hold back, friends! Let the comments fly and stick where they may! =^_^= And don't forget, if there's another breakdown, you can always get the next episode at my website:   
  


[http://www.dreamwater.net/art/mitsugi][1]

   [1]: http://www.dreamwater.net/art/mitsugi



	15. No Rival So Bitter

*slaps FFN upside the head with a waffle iron* Friend of mine taught me how to do that. It's quite theraputic. *ahem* On with the story! =^_^=

Disclaimer: This year, for my birthday, I asked for omnipotent control over the five Gundam pilots contained herein, which I didn't think was too extravagant or outlandish. What did I get? A set of green plastic see-thru picnicware from Zellers. I hope my now-ex-boyfriend puts a little more thought into his next girlfriend's birthday gift. If you want to sue me for control of the picnicware, well, whatever floats yer boat, I guess... =P

**Suggested Font: Times New Roman**  
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Episode Fifteen: No Rival So Bitter

  


> _"Enemies' promises were made to be broken." ~Aesop_

August 21st, 1901

The day after the fancy dress ball was filled with delightful little quirks that kept Duo laughing for quite a long time. Firstly, both the chef and the butler woke up in a house that wasn't their own, and Duo was more than halfway through preparing a big, fluffy stack of blueberry pancakes when Dr. Poole graciously pointed out that he didn't live there. Nevertheless, she enjoyed the pancakes.

Second, during the boys' cab ride home, Heero felt it his civic duty to stop at the costumier's and return his Prince Siegfried disguise, and would have, if not for the unexpected happenstance that the costumier took one look at the filthy, lower-class carpet bag it had been stored in overnight and refused to take it back. Heero promised to simply buy the costume outright as a sort of memento of a very strange evening. Later that day, he returned with the cash and made good on his word; he even bought Duo the priest's clothes because he seemed to like them so much, and even if he didn't always wear the collar, he'd have a nice new suit to wear into town instead of his shabby brown tweed.

Thirdly, and best of all, they were home in time for Heero to serve mid-morning tea to Treize, while Duo watched from the doorway. The Count was seated quite unsuspectingly in a parlour chair when Heero, superficially unscathed and hiding a slight limp, walked very calmly to the man's side, put the tea set down on the table, and poured him a cup wearing a _very_ smug smile.

Treize didn't look up until the teacup was full, but when he did, and saw Heero, he executed the most magnificent double-take, complete with bulging eyes and a slackened jaw, such that Duo had to jump back into the hall and stuff a fist in his mouth to keep from laughing out loud. Heero wished the Count a good morning and walked out, still smiling.

Relena was less of a pushover. The moment she spotted the pair, and saw that Heero was limping slightly, she immediately assumed all the horrible things Dorothy was telling her about grown men ditching perfectly nice parties, getting plastered and starting bar fights were all true. She stomped over and railed at the pair of them for about ten minutes, saying if she ever heard that they were out being drunken gadabouts while she sat at home worrying ever again, they'd both be relegated to cleaning the gutters and mucking-out the horses for an entire week. Instead of getting angry, Heero turned on the charm and not only had her all softened up and in a forgiving mood in two minutes flat, but also wangled an extra week's vacation time out of her. Duo couldn't stop laughing the rest of the day.

Now, a week later, with the evening gala all but forgotten, things had gone smoothly back to normal. The weather had turned a little bit cooler, and the household was spending as much time as possible outdoors. The lazy atmosphere gave four very tired boys a chance to escape for the afternoon, while the rest of the family sat out on the terrace sunning themselves.

Heero, Duo, Trowa and Quatre received the blessing from her Ladyship to enjoy a few hours off, and by unanimous vote, they chose to spend them at the Muddy Nag. It dawned on Heero too late to remind Duo that if Catherine recognized him...

"Don't worry. I've got it covered!" the chef assured him as they strolled up the street towards the pub. Trowa and Quatre still weren't aware of his secret past as a petty pie thief, but they were about to get a crash course.

Heero looked dubious. "Are you sure? We can always go somewhere else..."

"No way! I'm ready for this!" Duo proclaimed. "Besides, Trowa hasn't seen the place yet. Come to think of it, neither have I. What's it like inside? Is it nice? Is there a kid's menu? I feel like macaroni and cheese today..."

They all let Duo ramble as they filed into the pub. It was, as always, a jovial atmosphere; there were some men playing cards over here, some other folks telling funny stories over there, and a group of well-fed ladies and gents having a sing-song 'round the piano. The smells in the air were surprisingly pleasant, for Catherine's cooking, perhaps not as good as Duo's, but still quite tempting.

Catherine spotted the group and smiled. "Heero! You brought your friends in to see me! How nice!" It was more than nice having four probably-eligible bachelors in her age bracket visiting her pub, it was downright marvelous. She looked over the two new ones with hungry eyes, one quite tall with light brown bangs that fell in his eyes, and one with...very long brown hair...in a braid...with purple eyes...and that impish grin... "_YOU!!_" She pointed at her much-hated pie thief, heaving, choking, and grasping at her throat.

Duo smiled and gave her a twiddly little wave as she stood there, eyes wide, sputtering and wheezing while she tried to form one coherent syllable in her rage. Finally she gave up and lunged at him with her longish fingernails bared like a cat's claws. Heero and Trowa leapt out and stopped her from tearing Duo to shreds, restraining her very carefully and gentlemanly by one arm apiece. Around the scene, the pub regulars carried on with their activities as though nothing was wrong; apparently they were used to the occasional tantrum from their hostess.

"I knew I'd get my hands on you someday! You _had_ to slip up sooner or later!" Catherine hollered. "I swear, you'll pay, you depraved, unprincipled, rascally little low-life! As soon as these louts let go of me, I'll make pies out of _you!_" She struggled to be free of the boys' grip so she could make a grab for her meat cleaver, but to no avail.

Not the least bit frightened, Duo spoke softly and made calming gestures at them. "Guys, it's okay, really. Let her go." Heero and Trowa looked at each other, then gradually released their hold on the woman, but questioningly so. Quatre stood behind Duo, sensing his sudden courage.

As soon as she had the use of her arms back, she slapped Heero in the shoulder, hard. "Why isn't he behind bars!? When you came in a few days after chasing him, you said everything was taken care of!"

"Oh, he didn't lie to you," Duo interjected. "I'm not a menace to society anymore! In fact, I happen to be gainfully employed like a regular citizen," he said, grabbing his frock coat proudly by the lapels.

Catherine looked at Heero, who gave her an innocent look. She glowered and whacked him in the shoulder again. "You got him a _job!?_ You said you took him to the magistrate's office!" Heero needed to work some more at looking innocent.

"Hey!" Duo shouted, pointing angrily at her, "you hit him again and I'll tie that apron around your face, got it?"

Heero stepped between them while Catherine fumed over the mock threat. "I never _actually_ said he was at the magistrate's...what I said was that he was never going to steal from you again." He'd learned a thing or two from Duo about withholding details from people. "And he hasn't, correct?"

Now the firey redhead was getting rather apoplectic at _both_ of them, and Quatre ducked out of the way to stand next to Trowa, who looked equally confused. Catherine put her hands on her hips and matched Heero glare for glare. "All this time you let me believe he was locked away somewhere! You knew he was walking about, free as air, and you didn't _tell_ me!"

Duo stepped defensively in front of his friend, who seemed neither frightened nor guilty at Catherine's rantings, just blank as usual. "It wasn't his fault that I'm not serving time, and they don't throw people in jail for petty theft anyway! I looked it up!" Heero blinked at that; he didn't know the boy had used his new reading skills to research what might have become of him if he hadn't charmed his way into Bridlewood.

"Besides," Duo the Penitent continued, "I didn't come here to gloat or nothin'...I honestly wanted to apologize for being such a pain in the rear all those months, and to try and make amends." He dug something out of his inside coat pocket while the others all stood in silence, even Catherine. With a tiny, sweet smile, he pulled out a stack of small cards tied together with a bit of string and held it out to her. "Peace offering..."

Catherine's eyes narrowed, rife with suspicion, but she slowly took the cards and untied them. Written in semi-tidy handwriting on each one was what appeared to be a recipe. She read the titles softly, her expression growing less and less homicidal as she looked them over. "Spiced leg of mutton...chicken curry...gingers cakes...peppermint creams...mince and partridge casserole...tangerine tarts..."

"See, Heero got me a kitchen job, and I've been trying to perfect a lot of classic dishes, but I've got more time than you have to experiment on stuff like that 'cause I'm not running a whole restaurant by myself," Duo explained, "so I thought it'd be nice to share what I've learned, and to try and make up for things...y'know..."

Catherine cradled the recipe cards lovingly. Good recipes and hard work made for better pub grub, and that could finally translate into profits. She kept looking the cards over, and smiling faintly.

"Don't get me wrong though," Duo persisted, "it's not that I don't think you'd be able to come up with these by yourself, it's just that this place is so popular, it must keep you pretty busy all the time. It must be _really_ hard on you, and I think it's amazing that you handle it so well!"

Heero was smirking on the inside. She'd been ready to slice and dice the pair of them a moment ago, and now Duo was playing her delicate ego like a fine violin. _Impressive..._ Perhaps he'd learned something about dealing with temperamental women from Heero in exchange.

Duo held out a hand to her. "Truce?"

Totally disarmed by the boy's angelic smile and winning ways, Catherine couldn't stop herself from grinning back and clasping his hand sportingly. "Truce." Smiles appeared all around, and the four refugees from Bridlewood happily took a table in the corner for lunch, while Catherine stored her gift in a safe place. Heero once again marvelled at how much Duo wanted the people around him to be happy.

**********  
  


Otto brought everything Relena could have possibly wanted out to the terrace, but nothing made her smile...lemonade, tea cakes, cinnamon biscuits, and her favourite puppy pal to keep her company. Not even Frederick's playful nips and licks that usually cheered her up had any effect. Dorothy sat next to her in the white rocking chair, cradling Anna Maria in her lap and offering a shoulder to Relena, as well as her invaluable insight into the male brain.

"Face it, darling, that's just the way they are," Dorothy said, "they never really grow up, they just turn into very tall, very manipulative children." She scratched Anna Maria behind the ears, and the lap cat purred in agreement.

"Ohhh, I don't understand them at _all_," Relena whined in frustration. She flung her head against the chair back and sighed deeply just as Treize stepped out on the terrace with his tea and newspaper.

"Something wrong, Relena dear?" he asked.

Relena looked up at him and clenched her fists. "_Men!_"

Treize blinked, looked down at himself, raised an eyebrow at her and smiled. "I'm afraid there's not much I can do about that, this is how I've always been."

"She means one man in particular," Dorothy offered, "namely Heero."

"Oh." The Count's face fell. He was royally sick of seeing that boy waltz all over the house, flaunting his lack of grievous bodily injury, and wasn't keen on wasting a perfectly good afternoon discussing him. He sat down and tried to think of a new topic of conversation.

"The frustrating part is," Relena continued before he had the chance, "even when I feel he's let me down in the most awful ways, he still has this way of talking me into absolutely anything! Last week, I started out chastising him _severely_ for his behaviour the night of the ball, staying out all night, probably drinking and carousing until dawn, and the next thing I knew, we were talking about his paid vacation!"

"Didn't you arrange that when you hired him?" Dorothy asked.

"Yes," Relena said doubtfully, "we arranged for two weeks not to be taken before December of this year."

"Then what did he talk you into?"

Relena stared at the ground, more than slightly annoyed with herself. "The first three weeks of September."

Treize thought that was oddly short notice, but rather than dwell on it needlessly, he was given a new idea. "That sounds like a rather nice idea, actually. Why don't you take an extended holiday to your country house in Hampshire? You've been working so _very_ hard on this place, I should think you're ready for a good, long rest."

Dorothy gave Treize a knowing smile and picked the ball up right where he had dropped it. "Oh yes! What a wonderful idea! You could take Otto and Quatre along, and I'll come too, if you like. I'm quite sure the Count would look after Bridlewood for you!"

Relena looked back and forth between them, then shook her head. "No...no, I couldn't, not with Heero gone. Perhaps later, but...now's just not the right time."

Treize and Dorothy exchanged furtive glances, and seemed to share the same quiet decision. _We shall wait for the right time too._

**********  
  


Heero and Duo bowed out of the afternoon's relaxation early, as they both needed to be back by teatime. That left Trowa and Quatre all alone facing a toureen of Catherine's spaghetti marinara, fresh off the international menu. They sampled it bravely and found that it was reasonably edible, to no great surprise; neither one had a long, painful history with Catherine's cooking like the other two did.

"Aren't you getting tired of me yet?" Quatre teased between forkfuls of pasta. He and Trowa had been nearly inseparable since they made their pact to fight his family together.

Trowa grinned. "Not in the slightest," he assured his friend. "I'm not following you around on a whim, I hope you realize. Do you know why I wanted to work for Relena when I hadn't even met her yet? And why I couldn't take my eyes off you in Bournemouth?"

Quatre thought back to all the smiles they had exchanged long before they knew each other's names. "You instinctively knew our combined net worth had more digits than the national debt?" he joked.

"No, no," Trowa chuckled, "I knew I wanted to be near you because I could tell you were kind, gentle, untouched by war...who knows _how_ I knew, but I did, the moment I saw you. Even Relena doesn't have quite the same innocence you have...I just _feel_ it."

"Maybe you have a sixth sense too!" Quatre exclaimed with joy. "It'd be understandable that we'd be naturally drawn to one another if we had similar 'talents'. Can you tell when people are lying to you? Or if they're friendly or dangerous? And what about animals, like Frederick?"

They leaned in close and began comparing notes, and everything seemed quite normal and relaxed; the boys were chatting away, and Catherine was just walking across the busy room with a tray of desserts, when the door opened and a shady, veiled figure slipped inside. Nobody took notice, not even Catherine, as someone of average height and draped in black from head to foot, with half their face covered, stood in the doorway and took a long look around the room. In a far corner, the figure spotted a fair-haired boy talking animatedly with another boy his own age. The shaded entity stood close to the door and sized up the distance to that particular table.

"Good afternoon! Can I interest you in some of my designer crepes?" Catherine chimed at the visitor out of nowhere. She held out the tray of desserts to the veiled figure and smiled. "Try the pink ones, they're made with real beets!"

Faster than Catherine could react, the figure shoved her aside with one strong arm, making her screech and drop the tray of crepes. At the same instant, the figure swung it's other arm in a vertical arc and slammed a small object into the floor. There was a brilliant flash of light that blinded everyone in the pub, elliciting cries of anger and surprise from the regulars.

On the other side of the room, Trowa snapped to attention at the very second the flash hit. When the object exploded, it not only set off a miniature supernova in the middle of the room, but a huge cloud of white smoke billowed out immediately afterwards, and suddenly the boys couldn't see as far as the next table. Acting on battle instinct, Trowa pulled Quatre out of his chair and hurled himself and the smaller boy to the ground, hearing something shoot past his ear a split second after, slicing the air scant inches from where Quatre had been. There was a sharp, almost wooden noise above them where something connected with the wall under tremendous force, and then there was silence.

It was a short-lived silence before the other customers started shouting all at once. Catherine was picked up off the floor by two burly patrons, coughing out curses until the doors were propped open and the smoke began to clear.

"Stay down!" Trowa whispered harshly to his charge, pushing him closer to the floor. Quatre obeyed and nodded quickly, eyes wide with shock and nearly hyperventilating.

Keeping low to the ground, Trowa dashed to the front of the pub, using Catherine's coughs to guide him through the heavy haze. As the smoke slowly dissipated, he straightened up and looked in all directions, but couldn't see the person or persons responsible for the excitement. He propped Catherine up by one arm as she rubbed the stinging smoke from her eyes. "What happened!?"

"It was a foreign woman, wearing a dark veil," she cried between hacking and wheezing sharply, "the beet crepes must have insulted her or something..."

Trowa sprinted out the door before she could finish. The street looked calm, without any hint of disturbance; he picked a direction at random and ran a few yards to the next corner, looking for the veiled woman, automatically fearing the worst. Finding no one suspicious, he ran back the other way and checked the alley. Whoever it was seemed to be long gone.

Inside the pub, Quatre peeked over the top of the table and looked at the mess. Catherine was trying to fan the residual smoke out the door with a tea towel while shouting out reassurances to the customers. "Everybody stay calm! Remain in your seats and _keep eating_!"

Quatre couldn't see what happened any better than the other patrons did, and very cautiously climbed back into his chair, eyes darting back and forth, tense and uneasy. Suddenly, he spotted a strange addition to the pub décor that wasn't there at the start of the afternoon; sticking out of the wall next to him, roughly at shoulder-level, was an ornate curved metal handle, bejewelled with precious stones of all sorts, and inlaid with colourful enamels. Recognizing the style and shape of the object, Quatre pulled it out of the wall with a trembling hand. It was a dagger.

By now, the atmosphere in the pub had improved considerably, but when Trowa returned empty-handed, it felt to him as if a dark cloud had followed him back inside. Defeated, he walked back to the corner table to quietly tell Quatre the bad news. "I lost her."

The blond boy didn't answer for a moment or two, just nodded slowly while studying something he held below the tabletop. Trowa watched him anxiously and sat down; he noticed the slim, silver blade in his hand, it's hilt and handle decorated with brightly-coloured flowers and birds. They both turned to examine the wall and detected a narrow slit in the plaster, where the knife had flown past them and lodged itself firmly.

"It was one of my sisters...wasn't it?"

Trowa didn't answer. They both knew it was true.

Quatre stared down at the dagger, then slowly pointed to a dark blotch on the shining blade. It was the number '28' painted on in what looked horribly like dried blood. "They didn't mean to kill me, this time," he said in a low, shaky voice. "They're just telling me that they know where I am, and they know how to find me."

He was trembling with fright, oblivious to the room full of work-a-day people absorbed with their own problems and the odd occurrance that seemed to happen for no reason. Trowa gazed humbly at the rust-coloured '28' and drew a sympathetic arm around his friend.

"It's started, Trowa...two of my sisters are already dead."

**********  
  


To continue her training to be an unparalleled hostess, Count Khushrenada suggested that Relena hold a private little patio soirée now and then, to keep her name before society while showing off the estate at the same time. Duo was positively over the moon for the idea, as he was just itching to show off his latest creation, peach shortcake with rich vanilla cream.

The patio out back was set up that evening with extra chairs and tables, enough for six guests, a small, informal gathering. Three couples from around Regent's Park joined Relena and her regular companions, by invitation, and had a pleasant evening of gossip, food, and music by candlelight. All the servants stayed in the kitchen and had a charming get-together of their own, excepting Heero, who was in and out of the house constantly, serving one dish or another as the evening wore on.

There was a little talk among certain of the staff about what happened to Quatre in the pub earlier, but as the cheap cooking wine was passed around to some of them, it became a distant memory rather quickly. Heero still disliked social occasions of any kind, and as soon as the briefly productive meeting turned into one, he slipped away to prepare the parlour for when the guests decided to move in from the eventual cold.

The entire rest of the house was deserted, and in Heero's present mood, it suited him. He hid himself away in the front parlour, one of the farthest points away from the goings-on out back, and began preparing the fireplace. He still hadn't come to a decision about Duo.

_I can't ignore how eager he is to help me, despite the danger,_ he thought as he picked up a fireplace poker and gave it a quick polish, _but he really has no idea how much danger he could be in. Treize was probably just flexing his muscles...next time, it could be serious._

He stood facing the fireplace, polishing the iron bar in his hands until the cloth he held was black with soot; polishing things, whether they needed it or not, was his unique form of tactile therapy. It helped him think.

_Maybe if I just stay a little longer in America, he'll get bored and lose interest on his own. Better than having to tell him he can't--_

Heero's eyes snapped wide open, and he ceased his theraputic polishing. There was suddenly a presence in the room with him. An intruder. He stood quite still and listened for a barely audible throat drawing breath behind him, and for the tiny, muffled sound of slippered feet creeping closer and closer. No one was supposed to be in this area of the house until much later, leaving one very obvious possibility...

_Stay......absolutely.........still............._

Heero waited, staring at the mantlepiece and letting his 'guest' draw nearer; he was still holding the cast-iron fireplace poker when he heard the sharp sound of metal moving swiftly against metal. He spun around, swinging the poker in a carefully-measured arc, and iron met steel with an echoing clang as the poker prevented a shining sword from slicing him in two.

The butler's eyes travelled down the length of the sword, up a strong, slender arm, and into the slanted brown eyes of his asian predator. His jet black hair was still pulled tightly back, and he wore a brace on each wrist, loosely-fitting white pants and a minimal sleeveless shirt in royal blue, allowing for maximum mobility in battle. The boy had stealthily invaded the manor while the entire household was otherwise engaged.

They squared off into duelling poses and circled each other. The asian boy sported a fiendish smile as he prowled around the parlour. "I can see why you were at the top of the list for this assignment," he said smoothly, "your reflexes are incomparable."

This time, he wasn't going to bolt; he was finally giving Heero a chance to ask the ultimate question. "Who _are_ you?"

His opponent gave him a predatory grin as their weapons hovered in the air between them. "I am Chang Wufei," he said with a regal tone. "Get used to hearing my name, Yuy. I'm your understudy."

**********  
  


Song, wine, and compliments about the food could only please Duo for so long before he started wondering where Heero had wandered off to. While the rest of the servants were chatting and enjoying themselves, his frown grew by degrees until he had to sneak out and investigate. As soon as the group's attention was averted, he skulked away and started roaming the halls looking for Heero.

Duo considered himself the resident expert of Heero's moods, and felt he could easily tell the difference between everyday grumpiness and an abnormally sullen disposition. He classed the butler's recent behaviour in the second category. _He hasn't been right the last few days. I can tell he's been trying to tell me something...is it too much to hope for that it's the same thing I've been wanting to tell him?_ He shook his head. _Nah, that'd be too scary. Way too scary._

As he crept farther towards the front of the house, peering into every room along the way, he began hearing odd clanging noises that seemed to come in batches with little breaks in between. They grew louder as he neared the front parlour, and soon he could hear footsteps, voices, and rugged breathing. Duo dropped silently to the floor, ducked under a decorative table just outside the parlour, and ever so carefully peeked inside.

Gliding in circles around the room were Heero and a young stranger, having a peculiar kind of swordfight. The stranger in blue and white wielded a finely crafted oriental sword, while Heero was armed only with a fireplace poker. Each time their dissimilar weapons clashed, bright orange sparks appeared, mercifully fading before they scorched the carpet under their feet. Duo would have jumped in and come to Heero's aid if not for the intriguing conversation he would have interrupted if he did.

"If you were an agent, I should have known of your existence long before you came to London," Heero declared during a lull in the action. "I've never heard of any 'Chang Wufei'." Duo guessed the strange name belonged to the other boy, and at the same time, he recognized him as the mysterious dark blur who aided them in the alley.

Wufei struck with an overhand smash, creating a fresh cascade of sparks as his sword met the iron bar. "Just because you're Lord Jeffrhyss' golden boy doesn't mean you know everything _he_ knows." He thrust forward with the sword, but Heero parried the attack easily.

"You might not know him at all," the butler pointed out. "You could be an _enemy_ agent, for that matter. Why should I believe you?" He made a defensive swing with the poker, and Wufei dodged it with equal grace. They seemed to be testing each other's skill and agility rather than having an all-out duel, and paused every few hits to keep on talking in riddles.

"I've got all the proof you could ever need, Yuy!" the antagonist exclaimed. "I know more about your new mission than you do! I know Jeffrhyss is sending you to America, and I also know why...in fact, my observations of you may have cemented the appointment!"

Heero paused, still very much on his guard, and tightened his grip on the iron bar. "He sent you to check up on me and report back, didn't he? That's why you've been following me!"

Wufei perched his free hand on his hip and smirked evilly. "Right first time. And the report wasn't a good one, I'm afraid. His Lordship isn't pleased with how much time you've wasted following that Maxwell boy around like a puppy."

Duo gasped, forgetting that he was trying to remain hidden, but it was well-covered by more loud clashes of metal. _Me!? What did I do? Did I get Heero into trouble somehow?_

"None of my acquaintances in this house have affected my peformance to even the slightest degree!" Heero nearly shouted, taking another indignant swing with the poker. "And if his Lordship is dissatisfied with my work, I would expect to hear it directly from him!"

"You're already too blind to notice how inefficient you've become!" Wufei countered, expertly deflecting both verbal and metallic attacks. "He feels the boy is an unstable influence, and that he's warping your sense of responsibility towards the mission. That's why he's reluctant to let you continue working in London."

The clanging stopped. Heero stood still in a neutral pose. "Clarify."

Wufei gracefully sheathed his sword and folded his arms. "Once you've completed your mission in America, he might just keep you there and choose someone else to watch Treize, someone more focused...and I've got the pefect person in mind." He began walking slowly towards Heero, and didn't appear to be smiling anymore. "I should have had the Khushrenada assignment. I waited for it, I trained for it, I _wanted_ it! But Jeffrhyss chose _you._"

"Is that _it_?" Heero demanded. "You want me out of the way, so you told him I wasn't doing my job and I had to be relocated?"

"Oh, there's more," Wufei chuckled as the devious smile returned, "but you won't like it. Even if you carry out your orders perfectly and Jeffrhyss lets you return to England, you'll be lucky if the Americans don't hang you for treason first. You, sir, will have the singular honour of committing a capital crime at the Exposition, and your hosts won't be very pleased if they catch you, and they probably will. Then comes your trial, and your execution, and the way will be nice and clear for me." He grinned.

"If you wanted me dead, why did you fight alongside me in that alley? Why didn't you just let them tear me to pieces?"

"Don't be dense, Yuy!" the conspirator scoffed. "Your death could have been easily traced back to Treize, and Jeffrhyss might reconsider the mission's danger factor and assign someone with years more experience than either of us have. If you'd just fallen off Tower Bridge or gotten trampled to death by those horses, you'd be labelled as careless and replaced the next day. I tagged along to make sure your eventual demise had nothing to do with the mission."

"How thoughtful," Heero said flatly.

Wufei walked backwards towards an open window, his apparent method of ingress and egress. "I suggest you settle your affairs in London before you leave, and rest assured that I won't let myself get distracted by a common little street rat the way _you_ did." He leapt up on the windowsill, about to make his exit. "For all you know, he could be one of Treize's lackeys, _sent_ to distract you...but if he tries the same tricks on me, he'll be dealt with, swiftly and efficiently. I won't allow _anything_ to get in the way of my mission!"

"It's not your mission _yet_, Chang!" Heero hefted up the fireplace poker and pointed it at his adversary, demanding his full attention. "And if I do make it out of my next assignment alive, you'll greatly regret any harm that comes to Duo while you're within even ten miles of this house!"

Wufei smirked, turned, and leapt out the window with exceptional grace and stealth. Heero remained where he stood, lowered the iron bar to the floor, and absorbed what had just transpired for several minutes. Without warning, the grandfather clock down the hall pealed out the quarter-hour; Heero shook himself out of the trance and began tidying up the parlour, erasing all evidence of the strange swordfight. Relena and her guests would be coming in soon.

Out in the hall, Duo was frozen solid, curled up in a little ball and shaking with genuine fear. _He wasn't going to tell me he was leaving, and now there's a chance he might not come back at all! He'll probably carry on as if nothing's going to happen, and then he'll just diasappear! Why would he do that to me? I thought we understood each other! I thought--_

He held his breath, digging his fingers into his shoulders as he came to an awful realization. _No...this is divine punishment, Maxwell, and you've earned it...every drop. It's your fault they're doing this to him. It's your fault they're sending him away! All because you...all because...every time you look at him..._

His eyes began to water. He had to get out of there before he started sobbing and alerted Heero to his presence. Drying his eyes with his sleeve, he crawled out from under the table and fled silently to the opposite end of the house.

**********  
  


Relena's guests didn't stay very long in the front parlour, as they had seen dark stormclouds rolling in and heard thunder on the horizon, deciding they'd best get home before the sky burst wide open. It was long after the household was settled in for the night before the first few drops of rain began to fall, but within twenty minutes at the most, the thunder and lightning had built themselves up into a window-shaking crescendo.

Heero lay in his bed, meditating himself into a deep enough trance that he could no longer hear the thunder, as he had done countless times before. His ears were instructed to block out the pounding rain and crashing thunder, eyes told to ignore the powerful flashes of lightning that could easily blast through two blankets and a thin feather pilow...but somehow, it wasn't quite enough. There was an extra bit of sensory information that his brain didn't know what to do with--the sound of someone tossing and turning a few feet away.

He cancelled the trance order and looked at the other bed. Duo seemed to be huddled under the covers and shaking like a leaf. He propped himself up on one elbow. "Duo? ...are you sick?" _If you are, it would explain why you haven't said two words to me since all the guests left._

Two misty violet eyes, and then a tentative elven nose peeked out from under the blanket. Duo shook his head quickly. "Sick? N-no way! I'm not sick, I f-feel fine!" A crash of thunder struck; the chef yelped and dove for cover.

Heero's eyes widened in disbelief as he realized what the problem was. "Are you scared of thunderstorms?"

"I'm not scared of anything!" came the muffled shout. Another loud boom, and the boy flinched sharply under his blanket. _...almost anything._

Heero blinked helplessly. It didn't seem possible. Duo Maxwell had, up to this point, seemed virtually bulletproof and completely immune to fear, and yet here he was, cowering in the face of nature's fury. Despite Heero's crack diagnosis, however, he had no idea what to do about it, if anything. He rolled over to face the wall. "Just try to ignore it."

_Ignore it!?_ Duo thought from the depths of his comfy burrow. _Yeah, right! Maybe, just maybe I could ignore it if I weren't using up so much of my brainpower worrying about you! Bad enough you're seeing me like this..._

The subject was thought to be closed for several minutes. Heero went back to blocking out the noise, and Duo stayed under his soft, fluffy tent of pillows and blankets, trembling harder with each new crack of thunder. Heero honestly tried to put the boy out of his mind, but it just wasn't working. Every time the thunder jolted Duo further away from sleep, it sent pitiful, terrified shockwaves across the room, and it became clear that Heero wasn't about to get any sleep either.

Just as the butler was struggling vainly to think of something comforting to say, a thunderbolt three times as loud as all it's predecessors tore through the air, and a sharp gust of rain-soaked wind savagely blew the window open. Duo jumped a good six inches off the bed, then plastered himself against the wall, and bumped his head on it too, just to be thorough.

Heero leapt out of bed and shut the window with a bang, fastening the catch a little more tightly, but not before he'd been well-sprayed with freezing cold rain. Between that and Duo's paranoid antics, sleep seemed out of the question now.

He stared down at the blanketed lump that quivered violently to the rhythm of rain pelting the window. _There's no way either of us are sleeping unless I can calm him down._ None of his training remotely prepared him for this eventuality. Pure guesswork led him to sit gingerly on the edge of Duo's larger bed and tap the lump on what was probably his shoulder.

Startled, Duo whirled around from his position curled up facing the wall, flung off the blanket and latched fiercely onto Heero, wrapping both arms tightly around his waist and burying his face in the braver boy's green pajama top. Heero inhaled out of surprise, instantly a mistake, because Duo tightened his grip to the point that he couldn't exhale again, or take another breath besides.

Heero tried to pry the arms off, but couldn't. He decided that he could just smack Duo in the head when he got desperate for air, but also that it would probably make the boy worse in the long run. Instead, he swung his feet up on Duo's bed and stretched out on it, allowing for a bit of abdominal breathing while his ribcage was being crushed. _Still...I have to sedate him somehow. Passing out from oxygen deprivation is no substitute for a decent night's sleep._

Searching his mental library of human behaviour, he remembered once seeing a mother in a city park, trying to calm her little one who had fallen down and skinned his knee. She patted his head and rubbed his back and spoke soothingly to him until the fit had passed. Heero didn't have any soothing words, but he could do the other two.

While the thunder continued at full strength, he brought his arms slowly and stiffly around Duo, shifting them and trying to find a position that would work without feeling too strange. Duo barely felt the light contact at first; he was hardly aware of anything except the guilt and fear that had been barraging his fragile heart ever since he learned of Heero's predicament. It was in every way worse than the storm by itself, and he squeezed Heero's middle even tighter, as if he were a giant five-foot-long stuffed animal, silently pleading... _Don't leave, don't leave, don't leave, don't leave..._

Heero was starting to feel the effects of dizziness and slight pain, and he had to fight his survival instincts to keep from flinging the boy off him. He set about gently stroking Duo's hair with one hand, while rubbing his back and nearest shoulder with the other, coaxing him to relax at least enough so that Heero could breathe again.

After awhile, Duo's grip loosened a bit, although he was still clasping his stuffed animal snugly. The thunder and lightning continued, but he didn't seem to see or hear them anymore. Finally, a tiny little snore told Heero that the boy had fallen asleep.

It was his plan from the beginning that he would go back to his own bed as soon as Duo calmed down, but for some inexplicable reason, he didn't move. Somehow, it seemed more than just not wanting to wake him up and start the whole process all over again, and that troubled Heero greatly. Alarm bells were going off in his head, and he tried to recite Lord Jeffrhyss' mantra that always calmed _him_ down in times of crisis, but the words eluded him. His mind was a blank.

All that remained was the thought that it felt strangely comfortable to be lying there with his arms coiled lightly around his braided assistant. Heero might have stopped to wonder if this was the sort of thing Wufei meant by being 'distracted from the mission', but the warmth of another person wrapped so close lulled him to sleep quicker than he expected, and soon he was gone.

They fell asleep holding each other through the storm, and stayed that way until morning.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


> _Next, in Episode Sixteen: Duo's suspicious behaviour has a few people perplexed, a few downright worried, as he seems to have a secret plot cooking in his mental kitchen. Heero prepares to leave Bridlewood, and only two other people know that it might be the last time he sets eyes on London, or might indeed be his last mission ever._

Ok, like, my eyeballs are spinning from this whole FFN outage thing. =@_@= I need to step back and regroup, but do me a huge favour and just drop me a line in the reviews to let me know who's still with me! I have no way of knowing who's reading and who I've lost (except a few people I've already talked to). Hopefully this will be the last major hiccup. ANYWAY! Back to business. Next episode is due out August 29th! Don't miss it! Important things are happening! =^_~= 


	16. Conspiracy Stew

Hi-eeee! =^_^= *waves* I'd love it if you all paid close attention to the author's notes at the bottom of the page--there's something in them this week that one doesn't usually see accompanying a fanfic... =^_~=

Disclaimer: This year, for my birthday, I asked for omnipotent control over the five Gundam pilots contained herein, which I didn't think was too extravagant or outlandish. What did I get? A set of green plastic see-thru picnicware from Zellers. I hope my now-ex-boyfriend puts a little more thought into his next girlfriend's birthday gift. If you want to sue me for control of the picnicware, well, whatever floats yer boat, I guess... =P

**Suggested Font: Times New Roman**  
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Episode Sixteen: Conspiracy Stew

> _"They are the silent griefs which cut the heart-strings." ~John Ford, "The Broken Heart"_

August 29th, 1901

The morning after the thunderstorm, Duo was almost entirely sure he'd dreamed the events of the night before; when he woke to find himself safe and warm in the embrace of his closest friend, he thought he was still dreaming, until a piercing howl came from outside their closed bedroom door. Heero was awake in a flash and bolted upright in bed; Duo did as well, but the way they were tangled together, he had no choice. They sprang to the door in unison, but it was only Anna Maria on the other side, meowing like the world was coming to an end. The cat was making a strange habit of holding vigils outside their room.

The boys hardly spoke to each other that day. Being raised to some extent as staunch Victorians, they had been conditioned by society to publicly ignore any and all matters of an interpersonal, or especially physical, nature. They both thought, to different degrees, that this was the reason why the other one wasn't saying anything about the previous night, a classic 'ignore it and it'll go away' attitude of the era.

Duo hibernated in his kitchen for a long time, thinking; he had been presented with a strange and dangerous puzzle, but it had nothing to do with the results of the storm. Heero would be leaving soon, totally unaware that Duo knew why, and that he was desperately seeking a way to alter the outcome. He needed inspiration and a kind voice, even if it was only a voice in his head. Looking nervously about to make sure he wasn't being observed, Duo unbuttoned his chef's tunic and took something out of the inside pocket, a sepiatone photograph of a kind-faced woman with long blonde hair. He got up on a chair and perched the photograph on a high shelf, where the woman's image could watch over the entire kitchen, then sat back down at the table and went about his duties.

After he'd whipped together a hasty breakfast for the household, the chef sat staring at the kitchen table in a trance until his eye fell on a little jar of strawberry preserves that had accompanied the toast. The jar itself was a wonder of modern technology, able to be sealed completely airtight, maximizing food storage potential while minimizing spoilage. Duo pondered the jar, thinking...and thinking...and thinking...

...and then he struck gold. A magnificent idea hit him right between the eyes and he all but leaped for joy. Digging a pen, some paper, and a pot of ink out of the utility drawer, he sat down with his cookbooks and wrote out page after page of calculations, which he checked and re-checked before putting phase two of his plan into action.

Later that afternoon, Duo took his final figures and went to find Heero. The butler was back in his typical dining room chair, polishing the silver, and was a bit worried that he'd offended Duo with his actions the night before. He was secretly glad that the chef came looking for him, but was mildly disappointed that he only wanted to borrow some money. The braided boy refused to divulge for what purpose he needed the excess funds, only that it was 'vitally important' and that he couldn't go to Relena or anyone else. Heero thought that perhaps he should have been insulted by the request, but he couldn't help but be grateful that he and Duo were at least on speaking terms. He gave Duo whatever amount would make him happy, and the boy left very happy indeed.

For days and days, Duo laboured on some secret project he didn't want anyone to see, Heero in particular. Each time the frazzled butler would set even one foot into the kitchen, Duo would hurriedly shoo him away with some weak excuse, and Heero was starting to get the distinct impression that he wasn't wanted. Eventually, he stopped coming in the kitchen altogether.

On the 29th of August, what he thought could very well be his last day in England, Heero avoided the kitchen and concentrated on settling his affairs in and out of the house, although he very carefully kept himself from giving anyone the impression that he might not be coming back from his holiday. He walked out to the coach house at the back of the property carrying a piece of paper.

Trowa and Quatre saw him coming; they put down the brushes they were using on the horses' silky brown coats and stood at attnetion, out of deference to Heero's position. He stopped in front of them. "This is an informal visit," the butler said.

"What do you need?" Trowa asked genially.

"It's more a matter of what _you_ might need," Heero answered, "a place to hide." The outdoor servants looked intrigued as he continued. "Since that incident in the pub, it's been pretty clear that your sisters know where you are," he said, holding out the paper to Quatre.

The blond boy took it and glanced it over twice, puzzled. "I don't get it...this is about women voting in general elections, isn't it?"

Heero ignored the obvious question. "The address at the bottom belongs to an acquaintance of mine, a Doctor Poole. She has room enough in her house to hide two extra people comfortably, and she knows how to keep a secret. If either of you are ever in danger and I'm not available to help, go there. Mention my name."

Both boys looked extremely pleased. Trowa strode forward and clasped Heero's hand energetically, forgetting protocol. "Thank you, Heero! You don't know how much it means to have someplace to go where Quatre's family won't think to look for him!"

"Oh yes," the gardener chimed in, "neither of us knows London well enough to pick out a place to hide at random. This is a big help!" 

Their enthusiasm was entirely lost on their benefactor. "Good luck." Heero reclaimed his hand and turned to go.

"And have fun on your vacation!" Quatre chirped with a smile five miles wide.

Heero simply nodded, then walked back to the house. Quatre's face fell slowly as he sensed something troubling about his non-reaction. Trowa noticed his friend's expression quickly and eyed him with concern. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," Quatre replied, staring at the sullen servant disappearing into the distance. "It's tough to get a read on him sometimes...but he doesn't seem very restful about this trip he's taking."

Trowa shrugged. "He's probably just stressed. Maybe he'll relax once he gets there...wherever 'there' is."

Quatre shrugged back, unconvinced. "Maybe."

**********  
  


For days, the kitchen had been declared a warzone by three of the housemaids, plus Otto. Just about anyone who went near Duo's area while he was furiously at work on his experiment got snapped at and sent back the way they came. Occasionally he took his top-secret work outside the kitchen, and people quickly learned to steer clear.

On Monday, Otto came downstairs to fetch some cat food for Anna Maria and was shocked to see every worksurface covered with dozens and dozens of brand new Mason jars. A totally unnecessary expense for a household on a strict budget.

"What's all this!?" the house steward bellowed. "This is _not_ what the housekeeping money is for! How did you _pay_ for all this? Have you no sense of restraint!?"

"Don't get your nose out of joint! Miss Relena didn't spend a penny on it!" Duo barked as he was writing out labels for nearly a hundred jars. "I got the money somewhere else, okay? It's taken care of! Now wouldya please scram? I'm busy here!"

Otto left. He was angry and insulted, but he left.

On Tuesday, Doris was on her way to the laundry room with a basket of towels when she heard a violent banging coming from a little closet near the pantry. It used to contain cleaning supplies, which she had need of frequently, but now the closet stood empty, and Duo was on a chair in the tiny cubbyhole, with hammer and nails, creating an awful ruckus while reading from a book on cold storage.

"Good gracious! Where's everything gone from the cupboard?" Doris cried, clearly referring to her cleaning supplies. "'Ere, we've not got an infestation of insects, 'ave we?"

Duo appreciated the fact that the gray-haired lady was generally nice to everyone, and gave as good as he got. "No, I just needed this closet for something. I put some waist-high shelves up in the scullery and moved everything in there. It's got more room to move around, and I figured you'd appreciate not having to bend down to grab things off a low shelf." He knocked a few more nails in and tested his creation, a shallow sliding drawer underneath the top shelf, into which several holes had been freshly drilled, so that something or other could trickle down through the top shelf into the wax-lined drawer and be emptied out.

"Oh, what a dear you are," Doris cooed, pinching the boy's arm above the elbow. "Clever, creative, a good cook, and industrious an' all!"

Duo grinned. "That's me in a nutshell!"

Doris left, happy to know that someone was thinking of her needs, albeit indirectly.

On Wednesday, Bethany was making her rounds of the second floor, duster at the ready, when she heard water running in one of the unused guest suites. Since the residents there didn't usually take a bath in the middle of the day, in a room nobody entered, she decided to investigate.

The ensuite bathroom in question was filled with steam obscuring all but a long rope of chocolate brown hair that contrasted sharply against the light gold décor. Duo had turned the hot water on in the bathtub, full blast, and was lowering jars of various orange, red, and light brown substances into the boiling hot liquid.

"What the flaming 'eck d'you think you're doin'?" Bethany yelled.

"What? OW!" Duo yelped as he scalded himself in surprise. "I'm working on something vitally important here, so don't distract me!"

Bethany jerked an angry finger in his face. "You'll catch it for this, you will! I'll tell Otto, first I see of 'im, otherwise you'll get _me_ in trouble for not stopping you!"

"Fine! Tell him! See if I care!" Slapping her hand away, reasonably gently, he went back to his jars. Whatever the mysterious contents were, they gave off undeniably delicious aromas.

Bethany left. She was being self-righteous and indignant, but she left.

Now, on Thursday, the day Heero was leaving for America, the crunch was on. Elsie stopped her morning chores to grab a quick snack and saw the man who delivered ice standing in the kitchen and talking to Duo. That wasn't very unusual; the manor had an ice delivery now and then, and a block only a foot long on each side generally served their refrigeration needs comfortably for a few days. What _was_ unusual was that Duo was paying the man cash for an enormous quantity of ice, more than they could use in a fortnight or longer. There were six giant blocks of ice, twice the usual size, sitting on the kitchen floor and dripping everywhere.

"Oi!" Elsie shouted. "You've got an absurd sense of economy, you 'ave, wasting the 'ouskeeping on all that in this heat!"

Duo threw his hands up in the air. "Why does everyone keep saying that? I'm _not_ spending the housekeeping money, I got the money somewhere _else_! Now, get lost!" He turned his back on the exasperating woman and directed the delivery man to put the ice on the top shelf of the modified closet, giving him a little extra silver for his trouble.

Elsie left. She was annoyed and more than a bit curious, but she left.

After the ice delivery man had departed, Duo set up an odd little assembly line in the kitchen. All one hundred Mason jars were now filled with something, and in turn they were each given a neatly-printed sticky-back paper label, and placed on a shelf in either the pantry or the closet with the ice in it. He didn't notice Hilde watching him from the stairwell, and she made no effort to be noticed, but observed the bizarre display for several minutes before creeping back upstairs.

When he was finished stacking all the jars, Duo practically collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs; he had never worked so hard in all his life as he did that week. He took off his chef's hat and fanned himself with it, looking up at the photograph of the blonde woman on the high shelf. "I hope I'm making you proud," he whispered tiredly.

**********  
  


The past week had felt strangely bland to Heero without his braided assistant bouncing around and pestering him incessantly. Duo spent every waking moment cooking, far more food than seemed necessary to feed the household, and when he fell exhausted into bed each night, he was asleep practically before he hit the pillow. Another thunderstorm swept through the city, but Duo was so worn out that he slept right through it. There seemed to be no time or energy left over for being scared of the thunder, or for idle chit-chat; even the Japanese lessons ceased.

Heero tried to put it out of his thoughts and remind himself that he had managed well enough without Duo's company before he arrived, and he could manage without it now. There were still several things he had to take care of before leaving that evening, and one of them was to make use of the miscellaneous bits of hardware he'd collected awhile back. He took the metal plates, the combination lock, and four heavy brass hinges into the storage room of the attic, with a few tools and a gaslamp, and set to work.

Guided by one tiny orange flame, he sawed open a foot-square section of wall near the floor, coincidentally enough, where Duo had hidden from him that one night so many weeks ago. He lined the space inside the wall with the metal plates, affixed the combination lock to the last plate, and put hinges on both the locked plate and the plasterboard section of wall he had removed. Within minutes, he had a makeshift safe, with an outer door that blended in rather well with the rest of the wall, and an inner door with a sturdy lock. The other metal plates lining the space would ensure that no one could drill into the safe from an adjacent room.

Once that project was finished, he went to his room and pulled the two suitcases out from under his bed and shuffled through the contents. Preparing for the worst, he eliminated all but the barest essentials for his trip, keeping in mind the possibility that he might not return. He was able to empty the large suitcase and put the smaller one into it; most of what he took out would only be useful in England, so he stowed it away in the safe.

The last thing he put in his secret storage area was a blue velvet pouch which held his small personal fortune of about six hundred pounds; on an agent's salary, Heero could have afforded his _own_ butler. He tucked a note on Bridlewood stationery into the pouch, instructing that if he didn't return, the money should be divided amongst Duo, Catherine, and Arthur.

_...Arthur. He'd be the best one to give the combination to._ He closed up his wall safe and went downstairs, thinking he might look in on Duo on his way outside to the gardening shed. Brushing sawdust from his woodworking profect off his trousers, he walked cautiously into the kitchen; time was running out to say goodbye to the chef, and the boy's recent behaviour hadn't made the task any easier.

Duo didn't look up when Heero entered the room. He was studiously at work on a giant chart laid out in blue and black ink on a piece of large white card. Papers were strewn all over the kitchen table, the countertops were covered with at least a dozen ceramic storage bins, and assorted empty bags of flour, sugar, cocoa and a host of other dry ingredients littered the floor. Like all who came before him, Heero couldn't fathom what the lad was up to.

He walked over to Duo's chair wearing his usual blank expression to hide his inner agitation. _I should have realized it would be a mistake making a friend while I was on an assignment. Wufei was right._ It only then dawned on Heero that he'd never consciously thought of Duo as a friend until now, when it was perhaps too late to do anything about it. He took a deep breath. "Duo...I need to tell you something."

The chef didn't even glance up from his chart. "Not now, Heero, I'm working."

Heero recoiled from the awful sound of his own past words hitting him in the face. He set his jaw and glared at the back of Duo's head. _Be that way, baka! I only wanted..._ Before the anger consumed him completely, he strode quickly out the back door and into the garden, taking another deep breath and counting to ten.

Duo watched him leave out of the corner of his eye, then sighed and put down his pen, looking plaintively up at the photograph again. _I hope he'll understand when it all comes together...will he?_ The woman in the photo gave no reply.

Outside, Heero wasn't sure exactly what he was feeling once the anger dissipated, but it wasn't pleasant. As a result, he wasn't fully concentrating on where he was going and nearly walked back to the stables instead, but managed to pull himself together and make it to Arthur's cottage. His mind was now reeling with things he had left unfinished--the collection of intelligence on Treize, the interrogation of Lady Une, the search for a solid connection between the Count and Heinrich Wagner--they would have to wait, assuming he could complete them at all.

He entered the cottage without knocking, a priviledge Arthur had granted him weeks earlier. The kindly old carpenter seemed to be waiting for him; there was a fresh pot of tea, and Arthur sat in front of it with his hands neatly folded and his cap hanging off the corner of his chair.

"Today's the big day, innit?" the wizened old Scotsman remarked.

Heero took a chair next to him and paused for awhile before speaking. "It's not a vacation, despite what you've heard. I've been called away on business."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. He knew better than anyone else at the manor what sort of business Heero was into. "Ah see," he said, pouring the boy a cup of tea as usual, "and would it be safe to assume that Khushrenada's had summat to do with it?"

Heero took the teacup and set it in front of him, shaking his head. "Not this time. That boy who was staring at us from across the street the day the Count arrived...this is partly his doing." He took a sip of tea while Arthur remembered. "He may try to infiltrate the manor once I'm gone. Don't trust him."

"Aye," the carpenter assented. He took a long gulp of his own tea and looked curiously at Heero. "If ye dun' object to hearin' it, ye've got a face longer than a giant's shadow at sunrise. Would there be anythin' y'haven't told me, laddie?"

_Does it show that much?_ Heero thought. _Or is it just that I can't hide anything from you?_ He sampled the tea again and set the cup down, studying the flowered pattern around the rim. "I can't seem to talk to Duo about my leaving. He thinks of me as a friend, but lately I've upset him somehow, and he hardly wants to look me in the eye. He won't _give_ me a chance to say my farewells properly, because...he honestly believes I'm coming back."

Arthur nodded slowly, with quiet understanding. "A one-way trip, is it?"

"I won't know until I arrive at my destination."

The Scotsman nodded again. "It's no' like you t'be concerned wi' sayin' your goodbyes, Heero. Ah dinnae think t'was in the job description t'be so sentimental."

Heero shut his eyes tightly for a moment, then stared blankly at the opposite wall. "Of all the things in this world that perplex me, I understand myself the least," he whispered. They sat in silence for awhile, taking alternating sips of the steaming brew. Heero set his cup down and hesitantly met the eyes of his companion. "If I can't get through to him before it's time for me to leave...will you tell him I meant to say goodbye?"

"Aye," Arthur said with a fatherly smile. He let Heero stay in the cottage for as long as he liked before the boy steeled himself to go look for Duo.

**********  
  


The four housemaids were all down in the cellar after lunch, catching up on the laundry, as well as the gossip. The three originals had graciously accepted young Hilde into their fold, and they were all pleased with how quickly and efficiently she did her job, without, of course, outshining any of them in the eyes of their mistress. Appearing to be inferior and non-threatening was one of the most valuable skills Hilde picked up from living on the streets; Duo had taught her well.

She courteously let the older maids take charge of the conversation while they helped her with the washing, and they all enjoyed the resulting gab-fest, as was their custom.

"You should've 'eard 'er Ladyship rabbiting on about 'ow slow we was, and 'ow discourteous and disrespectful and what not," Bethany was saying. "I tell you, she's a changed woman now!"

Doris agreed wholeheartedly. "After Lord Peacecraft passed on, the strain was too much for 'er, you see, and she just got angry and bitter. Took it out on all of us, mostly. That's partly why so many of the staff left."

"Yeah, it were mostly the men an' all who legged it," Elsie whined, "leavin' us poor, defenseless ladies 'ere to contend with Ivana the Terrible." All four giggled at the secret nickname for her Ladyship. "Hilde, luv, you got 'ere exactly at the right time, now that she's mellowed a bit. 'Course, it don't take a genius to see that it's because of her precious butler, and now that he's on holiday, she might have 'erself a relapse!" Elsie shuddered at the thought. The others laughed.

"Well, I've only got Duo to thank for getting me this job," Hilde said wistfully.

Doris smiled a warm, motherly smile. "He's a lovely boy, that one."

"He's a nutter!" Elsie declared pointedly. "He's childish, and rude, and he looks like a girl with that hair of his!"

Bethany saw a faint blush and a smile teasing at Hilde's face. "Oh, don't talk down about 'im, Elsie, I reckon she fancies 'im!" The three older woman burst into excited teases and giggles that only made the youngest turn a deeper shade of rose.

"It's not what you think!" Hilde protested from behind an embarassed smile, which only provoked the nosy women further. "Honestly, it's really..._really_ not what you think, okay?"

"What is it, then?" Elsie asked with a sly grin.

Hilde smiled and bit her lip. _Is there any chance they'd understand? No, it's too...weird. Unnatural, even. I wouldn't tell anyone except..._

Just then, walking past the tiny window in the laundry room wall, was the Duo in question. Before she even realized her feet were moving, Hilde was out the door and after him, amidst more giggles and hushed whispers from the other maids. She jogged out onto the back lawn and caught up with him easily. "Duo!"

Duo turned around and grinned. "Hey, kiddo! Don't tell anyone I'm slacking off work, will ya? Only I had to get some fresh air, I've been in that kitchen so much this week I'm going stir crazy!" He mimed stirring a bowl of ingredients and elbowed her in the side as she groaned dramatically at the pun.

"Duo, I wanted to talk to you about something, before you start hearing silly rumours--"

"Before YOU start anything...I want to talk to you first," Duo countered, "and I know I've been avoiding you outside working together in the kitchen, and I'm sorry, but I've gotta say something to you _now_. I promise I won't run away if you won't."

Hilde thought about that. They did seem to be avoiding each other, there was no denying that. _Maybe it's time to get it all out in the open,_ she thought. "Let's go somewhere out of the hot sun to talk," she said, leading him towards the gazebo.

"Answer me something," Duo said as they walked, "if you're the scullery maid, then you're second in command over the kitchen after me, right? Which means, you take over if I'm ever absent or incapacitated or something, right?"

Hilde raised an eyebrow as she climbed the gazebo steps. "Are you planning on being incapacitated in the near future?"

"No, no," the chef sighed, "but what I _am_ planning, I'll need your help for. You've gotta promise me you won't say a word about it to _anyone_...and before I tell you, I should tell you one or two...other things..." By the way he hung his head and shuffled his feet, Hilde could tell it was serious.

"Okay," she said slowly, "you go first."

Their voices were very faint, and it was clearly impossible for their conversation to be overheard, but it didn't stop someone from watching them. Hiding in the hedge maze, having taken a shortcut through it on his way back from Arthur's cottage, was Heero, and he watched the pair with a heavy heart.

_He could actually have a normal life if it weren't for me._ Seeing Duo and Hilde together brought about a strange, uncomfortable feeling, just like it did the day Hilde first arrived at the manor. Heero's inner demons were poking him in the chest with their little pitchforks, and especially after the way Duo had treated him the past week, he didn't understand why.

While he spied on the pair, wishing he was close enough to lip-read, he constantly speculated about their topic of conversation. First, they both looked very nervous, and Duo was giving a speech that made him stare at the floor of the gazebo, wringing his braid. Then Hilde looked shocked. She started talking animatedly back, gesturing wildly. Then Duo looked relieved. He threw his arms around her, and she welcomed his embrace. They both looked pleased...and the tightness in Heero's chest grew worse. He turned and quickly walked back through the hedge maze, not wanting to see any more and looking for another route back to the house.

Back at the gazebo, the youngsters broke out of their hug, and Duo counted his many blessings. "This is _so_ great! I feel ten times better about this now! I honestly didn't know if you'd understand!"

"You thought I wouldn't understand _you_?" Hilde laughed. "If you ask me, I had _twice_ as much reason to worry about you not understanding me! I just can't tell you how relieved I am!"

Duo grabbed her by the shoulders and looked intensely into her eyes, no longer timid. "Well, now that it's all sorted out, we've got some serious work ahead of us. Come back to the kitchen with me and I'll tell you my plan..." He steered her back towards the house and she was glad to follow.

**********  
  


Dusk arrived. The time had come to board the ship to America. Heero couldn't tell whether Duo was avoiding him or he was avoiding Duo; he only knew that witnessing the two children in the gazebo acting so merry and carefree with each other had made Heero want to keep his distance, despite his original desire to see his friend one last time. Some tiny part of him hoped the chef would at least see him off on his journey, but Duo was nowhere to be seen.

The butler stood at the end of the front walk with his one suitcase, ready to blindly accept his fate on the strength of his sense of duty. Relena and Dorothy were there, with Frederick nestled in his owner's arms. Trowa and Quatre put in an appearance, a brave act, all things considered. Otto said a hasty and slightly smug goodbye and went back inside to confer with Treize, whom Heero spotted watching from a second-storey window. The three older housemaids appeared at the front parlour window, waved, then disappeared back to their duties, and Arthur stood at the far corner of the house, nursing his pipe.

Two servants were conspicuously absent--Duo and Hilde.

"Now, you _will_ remember to send me a postcard, won't you?" Relena cooed, putting on a brave face before losing her exotic sweetie for three whole weeks. "And bring me back a present! I love surprise presents, especially from abroad! Father used to go away on business all the time, and he never failed to bring me back something nice. You won't forget, will you?"

Heero managed a tiny little fake smile for her benefit alone. "I'll do my best, m'lady."

"And say goodbye to Frederick, too!" she squealed, hoisting the terrier up to chin level and waving his paw in the air for him. "Say bye-bye to Heero, Freddie! Bye-bye!"

He felt a bit silly at first, but Heero slowly reached up and gave Frederick a friendly scratch behind the ears. The dog was perfectly fine up until that point; when his little brown eyes met Heero's, he began whimpering and crying and making an awful fuss. Trowa looked suspiciously at the dog, Quatre looked suspiciously at Heero, then the two boys looked worriedly at each other. Something was wrong, and somehow Freddie knew what it was.

Relena patted the dog's head and mollycoddled him generously. "Oh, there there, he's only going to be away for three weeks, Freddie, he'll be back before you know it! Don't cry!"

The three servants looked at each other very strangely, and the eyes of the two staying behind seemed to be asking all the questions. There was no time to get any answers, however, as the hansom cab destined to whisk Heero away to the docks was just clattering up the street towards the house.

**********  
  


High up in the attic, gazing furtively down at the scene, were the two missing servants. They stood just far enough away from the storage room window not to be seen from the street, but close enough that they could see Heero stepping into the cab with his suitcase.

"We'll start as soon as he leaves," Duo whispered. He clasped Hilde's tiny hand and smiled in the dim light. "Nervous?"

"A little," the girl conceded, "but like you said, this is 'vitally important'." She smiled reassurance back at her friend, and they both turned again to the window. The cab driver cracked the reins, and the little carriage rattled on down the street. Relena was standing by the roadside, holding her lap dog in one arm and waving energetically with the other.

Once the cab had disappeared completely, Duo stood away from the window, straightened his shabby brown suit, and let out a slow, trembling breath. "Now _I'm_ getting butterflies!" he said with a shaky laugh in his voice.

"Come on, it'll be over quicker than you think." Hilde rubbed the boy's quivering arm and led him out of the storage room. Phase three of Duo's plan was about to begin, whether he was ready for it or not.

**********  
  


Relena stood on the front walk long after Heero had gone. Trowa and Quatre had taken the dog inside, leaving Dorothy to offer support and friendship to the saddened girl. She approached her Ladyship from behind and put an arm around her shoulders.

"Three weeks soon passes, m'lady," she said, "I'm sure I can find things to occupy your time until then."

Relena didn't answer for several minutes. She seemed more unsure and doubtful now about Heero's feelings towards her than she ever had before. "He didn't even tell me where he was going."

Dorothy squeezed her shoulders playfully. "Never mind! It's probably some bloody boring little lower-class resort in a tourist trap somewhere. Believe me, I speak from experience when I say that servants have the most _awful_ taste in places to relax, because they're simply not meant to relax. They're meant to work!" She twirled Relena around and gripped both her hands, swinging them back and forth like happy pendulums. "Now, let's go inside and have a drop of sherry in the drawing room!"

It took a moment, but Relena smiled at the offer, and the girls ran lightly back indoors for their usual evening of gossip and games. To accompany their leisure, they rang the bellpull in the drawing room, mindless of the fact that there was no butler to answer it, and ordered some light refreshments from the first servant who happened along. It happened to be Hilde.

The girl went down to the kitchen and returned with tea cakes and petit-fours on a sterling silver tray. When asked why the chef didn't bring the dainty sweets up himself, Hilde humbly told the girls that Duo was feeling a bit under the weather and had gone to bed early. Relena didn't seem to care one way or the other after that; since the food arrived without incident, it didn't really matter.

Satisfied that Relena wasn't the least bit suspicious, Hilde went back down to the empty kitchen. She picked out a chair at the kitchen table and sank into it, tremendously pleased with herself. Looking up at where Duo had shown her the blonde woman's photograph and seeing it was gone, she smiled, thinking of what had happened in the last few hours. _Mine, all mine..._ Seeking that extra bit of guilty indulgence, she kicked her feet up on the table and laced her fingers behind her head. _Even if it's only for three weeks, I'm going to enjoy it, make no mistake._

Voices grew nearer from the other side of the basement, but the girl was too content to shift her very comfy position. "You're right, there's definitely something wrong. Frederick would never act that way if there wasn't a reason."

"If only we could get inside his head and find out what it was..."

Trowa and Quatre wandered into the kitchen, talking in concerned tones about something Hilde didn't have any will to discover. She was completely absorbed in her own happy little world and almost didn't notice when Quatre came up to her side holding the tawny terrier he and his friend were discussing. "Excuse me, Hilde, but where's Duo run off to? He wasn't outside to see Heero leave, and we want to ask his opinion on something that happened just now..."

Hilde sat properly in her chair and gnawed on her lip. "Duo...isn't here. He's upstairs. Resting. He was very tired and wanted to go to bed early. In fact, I think he might be coming down with something, the poor darling..."

Quatre eyed her carefully. "Alright...maybe I'll see him tomorrow then?"

"Yes, maybe!" the girl said breathlessly. "Now, I've got quite a bit left to do, so I'll let you gentlemen get back to your...dog discussion...or whatever." With that, she leapt out of the chair and skittered down the hall to another part of the cellar.

The boys simply stared after her, and Quatre was blinking away the confusion with all his strength. "She lied to me...she out-and-out lied to me about Duo, I can feel it!"

Trowa shook his head. "What is going _on_ in this house?"

**********  
  


It was a long, lonely carriage ride to the docks for Heero, one plagued with self-reproach and depressing thoughts about his former friend. The cab dropped him off a short walk from his ship, not exactly a luxury liner, but not exactly economy class either. It would be his home for the next week as he and hundreds of other people made the long trek across the Atlantic, but he knew he'd still feel utterly alone, even among so many.

He walked at the pace of a funeral march, suitcase in one hand, ticket in the other, until he reached a long gangplank leading from the dock to the main deck of the ocean liner. It was an impressive craft, newly fitted with electric lights, as well as several generators to power them. There were dozens upon dozens of men, women, and little children milling about on and off the ship, and lights were being switched on in all corners as the sun sank the rest of the way below the horizon. It was still a good half-hour until they shipped out, and there were still mountains of luggage being carted this way and that by a small army of red-capped porters.

As Heero made his way to the gangplank, he wasn't wholly paying attention to the restrained, late-day commotion around him, and didn't recognize the young gentleman taking the tickets until he was standing right in front of him. There, wearing a smart red porter's uniform and a foxy grin, was none other than Chang Wufei.

"Ticket please, sir," he said in a stately voice that didn't hide the malevolent gleam in his eye.

"Making sure I actually leave England, I see." Heero handed his ticket over with a glare. "If the ship stalls on its way out of the harbour, are you going to jump in the canal and push?"

Wufei glanced over the ticket and handed it back to him with a raised eyebrow. "I hope for the sake of the mission that you didn't write 'assassin' on your fake passport as your occupation."

"Perhaps I should borrow yours," Heero replied smootly, "I'm sure it has 'diplomatic immunity' stamped all over it. Very handy for getting away with murder."

"And who said anything about murder being part of your new assignment?" Wufei sang, looking sweetly innocent.

Heero stepped back and looked haughtily superior without much difficulty. "I know what I've been trained to do, and Jeffrhyss wouldn't send me all that way just to deliver an empty threat." He gripped the handle of his suitcase tightly and strode easily up the long, slanted gangplank, feeling the weight of Wufei's smirk on his back with every step.

The porter snapped to attention and saluted. "Safe journey, sir!" he called out in a military tone. Heero ignored him.

Once aboard, the former butler familiarized himself with the general layout of the ship, in case of emergency, then went looking for his stateroom. He was housed in the smallest of cabins, with one porthole for a window, and one tiny bunk to sleep on for the next week. He stowed the suitcase in the pull-out compartment under the bed, adjusted the shoulder holster under his jacket, and went back to the main deck to have a look around.

It was relatively quiet, even as the time grew shorter and shorter before the scheduled departure of the massive ship. For the next few days, at least, Heero would be free...there was no way Jeffrhyss could reach him in the middle of the ocean, and that thought comforted him somewhat. Sadly, instead of relishing the time off, he immediately began spending it on speculations about his new mission. It was to be a murder, done cleanly and efficiently, that much was certain, otherwise there should have been any number of agents already operating in the United States that could have completed the task. _Therefore, if I'm being troubled to make this trip, it must be someone important...a powerful businessman, perhaps, or a politician who's standing in his Lordship's way..._

He leaned casually on the railing, looking out over the port side at the shoreline of London, beautifully illuminated with thousands of tiny specks of light. It was a mistake to do so, for the moment he took in the sight of the glittering cityscape, the thoughts he had been trying so hard to block out came flooding back to him. The memories of those fleeting moments spent with Duo in his secret niche high above the walkway of Tower Bridge would not be quieted, and only served to make Heero feel more unwanted, and more alone.

It was indeed a shame that he didn't choose the starboard side of the ship from which to conduct his painful trip down memory lane, for if he would have looked over the starboard side, very carefully and with the keenest vision, he might have witnessed a peculiar event. There was, in fact, a darkly-clothed figure crawling delicately up one of the mooring ropes that held the ship in it's place. The figure climbed up to, but not onto, the main deck of the ship, waited until there was nobody watching, then jumped aboard with incredible acrobatic skill.

In the blink of an eye, the figure scampered a few yards away from the other end of the mooring rope to a tarp-covered life raft clinging to the side of the vessel, and hurriedly climbed inside it, seconds before two crewmembers rounded the corner and passed by. The ropes were tossed off their moorings, the anchor was hoisted, and with a booming note from the whistle, the ship was underway, carrying a little bit more than the usual cargo. The lack of substantial moonlight made it unlikely that anyone saw the figure duck into it's chosen hiding place, or that anyone saw the long chocolate brown braid that accidentally dangled over the side of the raft, or the hasty hand that snatched it back underneath the tarp, safe from all eyes.

Exactly according to plan, the ocean liner bound for America had picked up an unseen stowaway, a little brown mouse with bright violet eyes.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


> _Next, in Episode Seventeen: The true plans made between Duo and Hilde inevitably become clear to some of the household, and may have an unexpected effect on Quatre's quest for survival. Heero receives his orders, but can he bring himself to carry them out as instructed? Can he face the ultimate decision between death of the body and death of the soul?_

Aieeeee! What was our favourite chef making such a huge production out of the jars for? What was **really** discussed between Duo and Hilde? What sort of peculiar understanding did they reach in the middle of all this turmoil? All will be revealed... =^_~= Now, if your head's spinning after all that and you're not sure why all this extra stuff happened, don't worry...most of you know my style by now, I gotta set up the pins before I knock 'em down! The next episode may or may not be double-length, I honestly don't know yet. As I get closer to finishing it, I'll let you know on my website. Next episode is definitely Sepetember 6th--it couldn't possible be any other day.

**NOW...**I have an interesting Quiz Question for you. It's more of a test to see how many people are really paying attention, since review traffic is down in the wake of the FNN outage. There have been several hints dropped about Heero's assignment in America over the last few episodes; taking into account the knowledge that I strive for a certain level of historical accuracy, **how many of you can figure out what Heero's new mission is before September 6th? ** Email me your answers, and those who get it right will have their (screen)names posted on my little Wall of Fame, and (geez, I gotta think of a prize now)...well, there is no prize other than knowing you got it right, which is more of a prize for your history teacher...anywho. Think you can outthink Mitsugi? =^_~= Give it a try! Send your guess about the mission to koujonemitsugi@hotmail.com, and good luck!


	17. Gunpowder and Red Velvet

**A.N. September 14th, 2001 -- Please Read: **Episode Eighteen is still due today, however looking back on the events of the week, and looking at the contents of that episode, I decided it needed a rewrite out of sensitivity for victims of terrorism. It had dealt strongly with politics, war, and the powers that be, and it will still contain elements of these, but not to the degree originally planned. Strictly dialogue will be edited; the storyline will NOT be affected, and the deleted sections may very well show up later on in the months to come, but I felt that now was not the time to publish what I intended to publish a few days ago. I can't guarantee right now that Episode Eighteen will be ready today, but if there is a slight delay (my first real delay since promising my readers absolute punctuality), I'm sure everyone would agree that it is a relatively trivial matter. I sincerely hope that nobody will think I'm chickening out of a literary statement, or that I'm watering down my art for the sake of sentimentalism. I simply could not send the next episode out in the condition it was in. Good day, and God bless. **(end A.N.)**

Greetings! And a big congrats to everyone who got the quiz question right! =^_^= Now sit back and enjoy the fruits of your labour...or something. =^_^=

Disclaimer: This year, for my birthday, I asked for omnipotent control over the five Gundam pilots contained herein, which I didn't think was too extravagant or outlandish. What did I get? A set of green plastic see-thru picnicware from Zellers. I hope my now-ex-boyfriend puts a little more thought into his next girlfriend's birthday gift. If you want to sue me for control of the picnicware, well, whatever floats yer boat, I guess... =P

**Suggested Font: Times New Roman**  
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Episode Seventeen: Gunpowder and Red Velvet

> _"What broke in a man when he could bring himself to kill another?" ~Alan Paton_

September 6th, 1901

The week-long voyage without Duo turned the master spy back into the placid, calculating, self-assured gentleman he had been before arriving at Bridlewood. All his confusion, and all his stray thoughts that threatened mutiny against his years of training, were gone. Though the days passed rather slowly with no braided goofball to keep him company, there was something calming and comforting about knowing there was a job to be done.

As the ocean liner steamed past Ellis Island, dozens of tired but happy holiday-makers poured out onto the main deck to get their first look at the Statue of Liberty. The American businessmen returning home flooded the shipboard restaurants and exchanged calling cards as they prepared to part ways with their new contacts, and the crew began scrubbing down all the decks in preparation for a fresh load of travellers. It was time for _everyone_ to disembark, regardless of whether or not they had purchased a ticket.

Unlike the paying customers, Duo had suffered a miserable week holed up in the life boat. Firmly believing that he would be thrown overboard if caught, he only ventured out in the dead of night to steal scraps of food from discarded plates in the dining room, and never had time to look for Heero before some random crewmember or guest would come sauntering around the corner. After the grueling journey was completed, he was hungry, filthy, and feeling a little sick from the constant motion and the salty sea air; he was so completely frenzied about getting off that boat and into his beloved homeland that when the crew began their systematic safety inspection of the life boats, he decided he'd had enough, and threw _himself_ overboard.

The chef dove ungracefully from the tarp-covered raft and struck the cool harbour water with a tell-tale splash that turned a few heads aboard ship. It was the side facing away from the dock, and all the passengers were out of earshot, but several of the crew noticed, eliminating Duo's chance of a peaceful escape.

"Man overboard! Somebody grab a rope!"

"He jumped from that life boat! Stowaway!"

"Signal the police boat and inform the captain!"

"He's getting away!"

Duo swam with his last few drops of strength, totally unfamiliar with his surroundings but desperate to reach the shore before the police boat caught up with him. Just the bit of luck he needed, a fishing trawler was on its way out of the harbour and inadvertently cut off the police boat's path. The men in charge of both ships jumped up and started shouting at each other to get out of the way, long enough for Duo to make it to dry land, starving and exhausted.

Aboard the ocean liner, several of the crew were having hissy fits about something, but Heero ignored them. Whatever they were so upset over couldn't possibly be as important as what was on his own mind, he reasoned. He disembarked from the opposite side of the ship and strolled into town at a leisurely pace.

Following previous instructions, he went straight to the predetermined Western Union office and picked up a message already waiting for Harvey Young, his alias. The packaged consisted of a little brass key, a few dimes and nickels to get him some transportation, and a short note with further instructions.

The note required him to go to Grand Central Station, where the little brass key would open a storage locker. The entire distance between the docks and the train station, Heero felt as if he were being followed, but each time he turned around, he saw nothing and no one that seemed out of the ordinary. He dismissed the odd feeling and continued on, right up to the poorly-guarded storage lockers of Grand Central Station. From the pertinent locker, he removed a curious black case with a handle, rather like an attaché case, but a bit on the heavy side.

Again, Heero felt eyes on the back of his head. He whirled around swiftly, but it was just the usual crowd of busy travellers scurrying to and fro. Picking out one person who might be watching him out of this multitude was something he simply didn't have time for, however, and ignoring the eerie feeling yet again, he closed the storage locker and went to the nearest open wicket, to purchase train fare to Buffalo.

The person following Heero restrained himself ruthlessly from running out of the crowd and capturing the boy in a giant bear hug. Duo stood behind a pillar, starving, freezing, on the run from the law and needing Heero more than ever, but keeping with his plan demanded that he not show himself just yet.

He watched Heero carefully to see what train he boarded, then high-tailed it far from the station, to the nearest available point where the train tracks went from weaving around the urban jungle to cutting through dense weeds and vacant lots. Crouched down in the tall grass, he stared at the train, willing it to move forward until it finally answered, puffing out great clouds of steam and blowing its mighty, ear-shaking whistle. It approached and then clattered past him, car by car, and somewhere towards the end of the train, Duo summoned up his courage and leapt at the fast-moving space between two of the huge steel boxes. Before the authorities had a chance to spot him, he scrambled up on top of the train, clinging to the metal with no more than a prayer to keep him from falling off.

_You can't get rid of me that easily, Heero..._

**********  
  


While most New Yorkers had only barely finished breakfast, Hilde was cleaning up after a well-received lunch back in England. She was glowing from the usual compliments bestowed by Relena and her guests, even though they were addressed to Duo. She sent Elsie out to fetch just a handful of key ingredients, and once the lunch dishes were cleared away, Hilde started a batch of raisin tea biscuits for later.

Taking care that nobody saw her, she went to the pantry with a bowl and measuring cup, opened one of the ceramic storage bins bearing a label in Duo's marginally tidy printing, and scooped out two cups of the powder within. She took the bowl over to the kitchen table and threw a pinchful of powder in her face to make it seem as if she'd been toiling away brutally for all of ten minutes.

Quatre walked in not two seconds later. "Is Duo feeling any better this afternoon?"

Hilde wiped her brow melodramaticaly, acting very much the tortured housewife bearing up a tremendous burden. "No...no, I'm afraid he isn't..._I'm_ just _fine,_ though..."

"I'm sorry," Quatre said with a sheepish smile, "how are _you_ coping today?"

"Oh, just peachy!" Hilde chirped pleasantly, happy to be getting some attention at last. "Lord known it's a struggle, yes, but we all must pull together to make the ship sail smoothly, don't you agree? Sacrifices _must_ be made by those noble enough and kind-hearted enough to endure them!"

Quatre only smirked because he really didn't have anything else to say. Hilde had been doing a great job covering for an ailing Duo the past week, and an even greater job of patting herself on the back for it; she certainly didn't need any more sympathy than she was already getting.

Elsie chose that very opportune moment to arrive with the groceries Hilde had asked for. She entered through the back door carrying only one sack instead of the usual two or three, and was quite grateful that it was only the third time that week she'd been sent to fetch something.

"Oh, Elsie, thank you! You're just in time!" Hilde took the sack from her and emptied it on the kitchen table. She had bought bread, eggs, butter, and... "What's this?" the girl asked, picking up a squarish metal tin.

Elsie immediately snatched the tin out of her hands and gave it to Quatre. "That's summat I picked up with the money left over, 'specially for you, luv." The cockney maid flashed an endearing smile at the boy.

Quatre's eyes lit up. He _loved_ surprises. "What is it? What is it?" Without waiting for an answer, he all but tore off the lid, and his entire face seemed to sparkle with pure joy as he revealed the contents. "Sesame cookies!?" Both women smiled as he took an eager bite out of one of the nutty-flavoured wafers and groaned with delight and happy memories. "Mmmmmm, they're _perfect!_ Just like I used to have at home! Where did you _find_ them?"

Elsie didn't reveal her source, just smirked and displayed a knowing smile. "Just a little place in town, darlin'"

The hungry gardener quickly scarfed down two more cookies before displaying a guilty grin. "Trowa won't like to see me eating these. He already teases me about my midnight snacking habit, so I'd better hide them. Thanks, Elsie!" He skittered away to conceal his treasure, happily licking honey off his fingers, and not a moment too soon. Trowa came in from the garden only seconds later.

Still standing by the kitchen table, Elsie took off her hat and coat, and fluffed her hair back into place. "Are you sure that's all you want me to buy? A bit o' bread and a few eggs? Dunno 'ow you plan on feeding the 'ouse on _that_ for the week."

"I've been doing just fine so far, haven't I?" Hilde asked pointedly, breaking two of the eggs into her bowl of premeasured powder.

"Fair goes, you've been doin' a smashing job," Elsie replied, "but we ate beef stew yesterday, and we ain't bought no meat in days! Where's the food coming from if nobody's been to market for anything but bread 'n eggs?"

Over by the kitchen sink, Hilde could see the tall stable boy eyeing her suspiciously over a glass of water, and she could feel her fair cheeks turning slightly red. Elsie had hit the nail on the head, all right, and the whole situation was in serious danger of blowing up in Hilde's face. She twirled Elsie around and quickly hustled her towards the west stairs. "No time for that now, I've got work to do. Biscuits to bake, chicken to marinade, vegetables to chop, thanks for stopping by, see you later!" She practically pushed the woman out of the kitchen, then peeked over her shoulder to gauge Trowa's reaction.

He didn't look pleased. "She has a point, Hilde. Where's all the food coming from?"

Hilde's eyes bugged out, and with a strangled gasp, she stomped towards him, angrily brandishing a wooden mixing spoon. "Don't you have anything better do to other than hang around my kitchen, cluttering up my work space and asking dumb questions!? Get out! Shoo!" She slapped, kicked, and poked him right out the back door, and being a principled gentleman, Trowa couldn't bring himself to hit her back. He ended up outside with the glass of water still in his hand, and the kitchen door slammed in his face, thinking that this whole story about Duo being sick in bed didn't quite ring true.

**********  
  


That afternoon, after the train ride to Buffalo, Heero dutifully picked out a postcard to send to Relena, as promised. It would have his precise location time and date stamped, and she would surely show it to Treize, but at this point, Heero honestly didn't care. Out of the pocket money he had been supplied with by Lord Jeffrhyss, he bought a souvenir postcard of the Pan-American Exposition, 1901.

He had some difficulty in deciding what to write on it as he loitered around Delaware Park waiting to receive the name of his intended target. 'Having a great time, wish you were here' didn't exactly fit his sentiments about this holiday.

The entire world seemed to be gathering in the city of Buffalo to celebrate the glorious new century ahead. Three hundred and fifty acres in all had been transformed into a fantastic wonderland of art, science, culture, and architecture, bringing together dreams and ideas from the four corners of the earth. Strangely enough, it was here that a murder was about to be committed, an event totally out of place amongst the opulent splendour.

Heero had rented another storage locker in the local train depot for his own belongings, unsure of whether or not he'd be in a fit condition to retrieve them after the job was done. As instructed, he entered the Exposition fairgrounds carrying only the black attaché case.

He spent quite some time wandering around, plotting out escape routes and looking for suitable places to hide, in case they became necessary, and after awhile, he actually started looking at the colours and shapes that his training told him to ignore. He walked past a fountain and couldn't resist dipping his free hand in the cool water, walked through the Horticulture Building and looked at all the multitudes of flowers and plants growing there, walked down the midway and took longing glances at the Japanese pavillion with it's classic temple facade and genuine geisha girls. Regrettably, Heero was just beginning to enjoy himself when it was time to go.

3:45. Time to take up his position for the hit.

**********  
  


Duo had an awful time tracking Heero past the train station in Buffalo. The butler had five cents for the trolley, and the chef didn't. What should have been a twenty-minute ride in reasonable comfort turned into a tortuous walk on an empty stomach that took hours. He didn't even know where Heero was. All he could do was pray mightily to be pointed in the right direction, and pray for the strength to keep walking.

_I must look like I just crawled out of the gutter,_ he thought. _And I can't believe I've waited my whole life to come home and when I finally do, it turns out to be my worst week in living memory. Halelujah, I'm home._

Down another street he didn't recognize, past store fronts he didn't know and through crowds of people he'd never met. Everything hurt. His arms and legs were starting to go unpleasantly numb. The street he was walking very shakily on was starting to blur. _Please, God...I can't make it...please help me..._

"Hey kid! Did they throw you out of the poorhouse or something?" Perhaps the oddest answer to a prayer Duo had ever received, a voice called out from behind him, on the razor's edge between sarcasm and sincerity. "Looking like that, they'd throw you out of anywhere!"

Duo looked up just as a pony and trap drew up beside him. There was a middle-aged man driving it who could only be described in Duo's mind as pointy. Pointy hair, pointy beard, pointy moustache, pointy everything. He wore dark spectacles, a sea captain's hat, and a rather loudly-coloured shirt that suggested he once stood too close to an explosion in a paint factory.

Duo tried to make a noise, any noise, to indicate that he heard and understood, and that he needed help, but he couldn't force anything from his throat besides a laboured, exhausted wheeze. Intuitively, the strange man stopped his pony, reached down, and offered the frail boy a hand up to the little wooden cart. "You don't look too good, kid. Why doncha sit up here and take a load off?"

Shaking from hunger, Duo slowly took the man's hand and climbed into the cart, needing a fair bit of help from his saviour in the process. Once settled, he leaned wearily against the stiff wooden backrest and fought to stay upright. "...thanks," he said thinly.

"No problem," the pointy man said, spurring the pony forward. "You haven't eaten in awhile, I'm guessing?"

"Couple days..." Duo lied. It had actually been much longer.

"Days!? Holy Hannah...here, take a few chunks outa this..." The pointy man took a sandwich out of his sack and handed it to Duo, who smiled to beat the sunshine and tore into it ravenously. The man grinned. "Where you headed, kid?"

"Dunno," the boy mumbled without bothering to swallow. _Maybe if I could remember where Heero was going..._

"I'm on my way to the Pan-Am Exposition, like most everybody else visiting this town," the man said, "'cause I've gotta be where the action is, know what I mean? No sense sittin' around while there's a party left uncrashed, no way, man..."

Duo's eyes glazed over, and he stopped chewing while he pondered what the man said. _Exposition...that's what that guy Wufei said...something about a crime at the Exposition..._ "Yeah, that's where I'm going! But...I don't have any money to get in..."

"Well, that's pretty obvious," the man chuckled. "I can get you in. I know a guy."

Suddenly, the clouds parted. "You can!? _Seriously!?_" Duo latched onto the man's arm so hard he could barely steer. "I can't tell you how much that would mean to me if you did! I'll pay you back someday, I don't know how or when, but I swear I'll pay you back!"

The pointy man chuckled again. "Listen, don't sweat it. You seem like a decent kid, and I believe in giving decent folk a break, that's all. Be cool about it." He adjusted his captain's hat and gave the reins another sharp crack.

Duo could have cried for joy, but instead focused on finishing the much-needed sandwich. He didn't know why the man thought he was a decent kid, especially the way he must have appeared at that moment, but it didn't seem to matter. "I can't thank you enough, mister. I won't forget this, _ever_."

The man simply smiled, driving the pony and trap closer to the front gates of the biggest show in town.

**********  
  


Making himself cold as ice once again, Heero carried the black attaché case to the building indicated in his instructions, the glorious Temple of Music. It was a massive domed structure, painted with brilliant reds, blues, and golds, and there was a large, buzzing crowd gathered outside the main entrance. Many were looking up at the intricate decorations jutting out from the sides of the building, but most were straining to get a glimpse of whatever was inside. Heero ignored them and went around the back of the building.

Inside was a very elegant auditorium, fitted out with especially nice finery as if today were some special occasion. A long line of people were walking in a slow procession through a man-made grove of potted palms, while the giant pipe organ was chiming out lovely classical pieces, echoing through every corner. Heero saw none of this, since he kept strictly to the back halls and staff stairwells.

There seemed to be an unusual number of police and military personnel present, but Heero hadn't spent the last ten years in stealth school for nothing, and slipped past them all easily. Two flights of stairs up, he arrived at his final destination, an opera-style box that had been reserved for him in advance. He went inside and locked the door behind him.

The private box matched the rest of the building in its expensive tastes; two red plush velvet chairs and a gilded tray for drinks sat in front of a drawn velvet curtain, the same shade of red. There were complimentary nibbles and two pairs of opera glasses, with which the average guest could better enjoy the peformance. He left the electric lights turned off, not wanting anyone to see the ribbon of brightness between the curtain panels from the outside; even with his superior vision, there was just barely enough light to see.

He checked his pocketwatch. 3:53. Sitting in one chair and putting the black case on the other, he drew a long, slow breath. _Let's see exactly how important I am to the world of espionage._ He opened the case. The inside was molded to fit several pieces of black metal--a disassembled rifle of the highest and most modern sohpistication. Heero raised an eyebrow and began examining the pieces one by one; the weapon had been manufactured less than six months ago, according to the mill marks on the barrel. _They must think quite a lot of me, to give me this,_ he thought.

There was a pocket in the lid of the case, and inside he found the expected envelope; inside that would be the specs on his target. He opened it, having surmised that to send him all that way, the target must be fairly important, perhaps a wealthy businessman with a political agenda, or an aristocrat whose heir would be loyal to Jeffrhyss.

Heero didn't notice the envelope was unusually thick until the contents nearly knocked him off his chair. Tucked in with his instructions was the sum of one hundred dollars in brand new five-dollar bills. His stomach did a flip. This was his fee. _Who on earth could merit such an exorbitant..._ Without finishing the thought, he ripped the other papers out of the envelope and opened them. His mouth went dry and he grew numb from head to foot as he read the target's name:

_'William McKinley'_

Heero looked up with vacant eyes. ..._President McKinley!?_ He dropped the papers and the money, flew to the curtain, and pulled the panels apart just enough to peek outside. There, standing amongst the potted palms and smartly-dressed secret service men, was the man in the pictures he was given, the President of the United States of America. The crowd that had been gathered outside the front of the building was filing past the portly man, each shaking his hand and offering a greeting in turn.

Heero flung the curtain closed and lurched away from it backwards, nearly tripping over one of the red plush chairs. He leaned against the wall with a thousand pins and needles shooting through his nervous system. This should have been easy. It was what he'd been trained to do his whole life. Get in, make the hit, get out. Now, at the most critical point in his career, he was suddenly behaving very irrationally...almost fearfully...

_What would Duo think?_

The second he thought the boy's name, he started breathing again. It repulsed him on a fundemental level that he was balking at a mission because of some silly personal attachment that was long gone anyway.

_No...he made it quite clear how he feels about our...mutual acquaintance. It's over. This has nothing to do with him._ He crushed all thoughts of the boy and sat back down in front of the black case. As he began calmly assembling the rifle, he pondered at how it all seemed to make sense now; Wufei didn't believe Heero could make it out of this mission alive, and it was pretty clear why. Indeed, if he made even the slightest error in disappearing from the scene after the hit, he would be easily captured, and for the severity of the crime, he would not escape execution.

He checked his watch again. 3:59. The rifle was loaded with a single bullet and raised to shoulder level. He stood in front of the curtains and nudged them apart just enough to see the President through the sights of the weapon, it's muzzle barely protruding from the cascade of crimson velvet. The angle was a perfect 45° from center, allowing a clear line of vision between the heads of the two people standing in front of the target. It would be a clean kill.

Heero took aim.

**********  
  


Once inside the fairgrounds, Duo thanked the man in the colourful shirt once again and resumed his search. The sandwich had given him an energy boost, but he was still starving, and it was made worse by having to walk past all the concession stands with no money in his pockets. There were tempting goodies calling to him from every direction, so close and yet so far.

_Food. No food. Can't think about food. Heero. Gotta find Heero._

Duo found that if he shut his eyes and cleared his mind, some bizarre instinct sometimes told him which way to go, which way Heero had gone. He had known since shortly after meeting the stoic boy that they were very much alike, but until now hadn't given much thought as to how deep the connection ran. At times, he thought he could feel Heero's presence stronger in one direction than another, and it was always that direction that he chose.

After another long, tiring walk, he noticed an enormous crowd gathered outside a very ornate building with a domed roof. Curiosity poked him in the back and shoved him towards the crowd, instantly feeling their collective excitement. A brief search revealed the reason; Duo spotted and read a sign posted nearby that announced the visit of President McKinley himself to the Exposition. Reception at the Temple of Music, visitors welcome.

Duo's heart nearly leapt out of his chest. _I could meet the President!? No way!_ His glee soon faded as he remembered the sorry condition he was in after hiding in a life boat for a solid week and then taking a dip in New York Bay. _Damn, I can't meet him looking like this anyway!_

There were a few other people in line who were rather poorly dressed, like he was, but in the end, even the chance of a lifetime was no competition for what he really came to do. He asked around to a few people in the crowd, and as luck would have it, one or two had seen a boy matching Heero's description walking the perimeter of the building. Although met by a small army of security forces when he went to investigate, his stealth techniques were too crafty for the uniformed men, and he slipped inside without anyone noticing.

**********  
  


The strains of the pipe organ's song echoed in the tiny opera box, muffled slightly by the thick velvet curtain separating the elevated room from the auditorium below. Heero waited, with his sights on his target's head and his finger on the trigger, waiting...waiting for a clear shot...

An image of Duo popped into his mind uninvited, and he faltered; an image of Duo reading of the President's murder in the London newspapers. If he'd never taught the boy to read, he might have kept solely to his humble kitchen duties, at the worst perhaps hearing the news from someone in the street days after the fact. Now, since the sheer number of security forces blanketing the area were considerable and escape less likely, he was going to read the terrible news himself and see the name 'Yuy' written alongside it. Heero gave him that power of knowledge, and now he was going to hurt him with it. Badly.

The view down the sights of the rifle wobbled. Heero realized his hands were shaking and was forced to put the weapon down. Desperate for the reinstatement of his mental stability, he took the familiar paper out of his inside coat pocket and read the five lines penned in Lord Jeffrhyss' hand:

> _'Peace comes from harmony. Harmony comes from oneness. Oneness comes from obedience. Obedience brings about order. Order brings about peace.'_

Heero felt better, but not much. The calming effect of his master's words was diminished somewhat, but they gave him enough strength to pick up the rifle and take aim a second time. The pipe organ was beginning to distract him now, stray notes of Bach pushing one half of his mind further away from the task, while the other half struggled to pull it back.

_'Peace comes from harmony.'_

_What am I doing? Why am I here and not someone else?_

His trigger hand was getting slippery. He wiped it hastily on his trouser leg and repositioned it.

_'Harmony comes from oneness.'_

_What if I do escape? How could I ever go back to England?_

His tenuous grip on the rifle allowed the sights to drift onto one of the secret service men. He quickly righted it back to his target.

_'Oneness comes from obedience.'_

_Duo loves this country...if he finds out I struck down its leader, he'll hate me for the rest of his life._

He grew dizzy from holding his breath to steady the weapon, exhaled, inhaled again quickly, and refocused himself.

_'Obedience brings about order. Order brings about peace.'_

Slowly, very slowly, Heero leaned back, lowered the rifle, and stared blank-faced through the gap in the velvet curtains. _What peace can possibly come from this?_ Right then, he committed perhaps the most grievous sin for a sharpshooter next to missing the target, and that was questioning his orders; oddly enough, the expected wave of guilt and self-reproach never came. He just watched the line of people trot forward at a snail's pace to shake the hand of the President. For no reason that he could identify, he imagined Duo in that line.

_Duo._ In an ugly flash, it struck him how right Wufei had been about Duo distracting him from his mission. Horribly right. He could almost see the Chinese informant smirking at him from the other side of the curtain. This wasn't supposed to happen to him. He was the best of the best, and now he was throwing it all away to save the feelings of a boy who didn't even care about him to say goodbye. In a sudden rage of shame and self-hatred, Heero angrily flung the rifle at the two chairs, knocking one of them over and coming to rest in a tangled heap on top of the scattered money and bits of paper.

When he'd calmed down a bit, he realized how lucky he was that the gun wasn't discharged by accident from the force of the impact. He checked his watch. 4:04. The job should have been done by now. He had to decide what to do next.

_The money could take me anywhere in the world, but I'd need a new identity. When it becomes clear that I abandoned a mission, I'll be labelled a berserker and Jeffrhyss will have every available man looking for me._ He was feeling a bit panicky and was actually wringing his hands. He had just begun to wonder how meeting one person could have such a profoundly strange effect on him when a knock came at the door.

The would-be assassin froze. After a moment or two, a second knock was heard. When that went unanswered, someone began testing the door handle.

Heero kept very still until a series of clicks and light taps indicated that someone was trying to pick the lock from the other side; he slowly went for his gun, tucked in the shoulder holster under his jacket all this time. He levelled the handheld weapon at the door just as the lock gave a final, resounding click, and the door began to swing open.

On the other side, looking exhausted and able to stand only by some miracle of the Almighty, was a weak, hungry boy wearing a filthy tweed suit. The lad looked up and into the tiny room with weary violet eyes and smiled with immeasurable relief. "Heero..." he whispered.

Totally aghast, Heero forgot his dilemma instantly. He stared in shock, wondering if he was seeing an apparition of his own demented mind's making, but when the vision dragged himself inside and shut the door, that was proof enough. He holstered his gun and dashed forward just as Duo was caught a little off-balance and nearly toppled over from fatigue.

The braided boy all but collapsed into Heero's arms. He looked up and slapped his friend lightly on the shoulder. "Tag. You're it." Heero swiftly put him in the chair that was still standing and tilted his head back by the chin, looking with misery at how gaunt and sickly the boy had become. He'd been in better health living on the streets of London.

"Duo...when..._how_ did you get here!?"

The chef grinned as much as he was able. "You know the poor people who sail economy class? Well I was about four classes _below_ them."

Heero's eyes bulged at the realization. "You stowed away aboard my ship!?"

Duo pushed himself upright in the chair and looked around. "Is everything in this room paid for?"

"....yes."

"Awesome." In the blink of an eye, all the edible items on the gilded tray were in Duo's pockets instead, except for a huge slab of shortbread stamped with the Exposition's logo, which he was quickly stuffing in his mouth. "Living at the manor's made me soft. Can't go one lousy week without food anymore."

Heero found himself missing the gift of speech for several seconds. More powerful than concern for the status of his mission or worry about his own fate after that day, he was immersed in the most calming feeling of security and warmth. His friend hadn't turned his back on him after all, and now that he was here, they could think, fight, and cheat their way out of any bad situation. It was going to be okay. "Duo..."

"Before you say anything," Duo said with his mouth half full and his hands raised in a pleading fashion, "I know you're probably mad at me for tagging along without asking, but I wanna explain everything to you. I promise I had a good reason for doing what I did."

Heero blinked, then very faintly smiled. "I'm not angry at you."

Duo smiled back brightly, looking surprised, but relieved. He rubbed his hands together as he thought of the best place to start explaining. Outside in the auditorium, the pipe organ was building up to a tense crescendo, and a few high notes lingered in the air and danced in circles far above the heads of the crowd.

A shot rang out. Startled screams were heard, and a second shot followed. Duo leapt out of the chair and crashed into Heero. There was shouting and fighting and cries of 'Mr. President! Mr. President!' that melted into a vague, heavy din. Heero motioned for Duo to stay back and looked through the curtains. _My God...somebody else did it..._ He turned back, white as a sheet, and took Duo by the arm. "We're getting out of here, _now._"

Duo was equally ashen, but not so keen to leave, tugging his arm in the opposite direction. "What's going on? What happened!? Let me _go_, Heero, I want to see!!" Distraught and fuelled by fear, Duo wrenched his arm free, whirled around and tore open the curtains.

The scene below was chaos. People were running frantically this way and that, shouting and gesturing wildly. A group of men, some uniformed, some not, had a scrawny beanpole of a man on the ground and were beating the tar out of him, having pried a revolver out of his hand. In the middle of it all was President McKinley, seated on the floor and propped up by his secret service men, reaching out to the mob in a tender plea not to be overly brutal with his attacker. A large crimson stain on his shirt was growing larger by the second.

Heero reached in front of Duo and drew the curtains closed again. He turned him around to look straight into his trembling face. "There's nothing we can do. We should just leave quietly and let the police do their job."

Duo slowly shook his head in disbelief, tears welling up in his eyes. "Who would _do_ such a thing?" he breathed shakily.

Bitterness and guilt stabbed at Heero. "I don't know." He tried to pull Duo gently towards the door, but the boy's foot caught on something. They looked down at it, and both their hearts felt a terrible crushing agony instantly.

"What is _this!?_" Duo demanded angrily. Heero tried to tug him away, but the boy savagely ripped his arm out of the other's grip, all while giving him a violent look of pure rage. He crouched down and examined the object, a shining black sniper rifle. Underneath it were papers, notes, and photos of the President. And money. A huge amount of money.

Duo's head snapped up with a shadow of fury Heero had never seen on him before, and hoped never to see again. He jerked his whole left arm towards the curtain. "_That's_ what you came here to do, _isn't it!?_" he shouted, clearly meaning the gruesome scene below.

"...you were here when we heard the shots," Heero said in a weak voice that surprised him greatly. "We were both right over there...I wasn't anywhere _near_--"

"You were _going_ to shoot him!!" Duo hollered, leaping up with the rifle's muzzle in his right hand. He stalked towards Heero holding the weapon upright, punching the air around every other word with his fist, the rifle dangling from it limply as if ashamed of its own presence. "You _knew_ how much this country has always meant to me, you _knew_ how I felt about the symbols of decency and democracy that my parents believed in, and you were gonna sit up here in front of the most important symbol of all and put a God-damn hole in his head!! All for _this!!_" He kicked the pile of five-dollar bills, sending the freshly minted bank notes flying.

Heero actually flinched at the action, the verbal bullets piercing him everywhere. He swallowed and shook his head once. "...no.."

"Swear to God!?" Duo cried, shoving the rifle's upright barrel sharply in Heero's face. Without warning, he dropped it, and it fell to the floor end-first with a jolt. Heero was lucky a second time that it didn't fire by accident, only clattered to the floor harmlessly. Duo grabbed the stunned boy by the lapels and jerked him closer to his own reddened, tear-streaked face. "Swear to God, Heero," he choked out in a raspy voice, "swear to God that you weren't gonna do it...I promise I'll believe you...just swear you weren't gonna kill him..."

Giving up the last of his dignity, Duo leaned his head forward and wept into Heero's shoulder. Something unusual that Heero had never felt before made him draw his arms around his sobbing friend and hold him. "I couldn't do it," he breathed into the grungy, stringy chestnut hair, "I didn't want to...I knew it would hurt you just like this, and I couldn't be the one...I couldn't do this to you."

Drained by the last seven days, and especially the last seven minutes, consciousness loosened it's hold on Duo, and he suddenly went limp in Heero's arms. He caught the boy and lowered him gently to the floor, away from the rifle, and decided it would be best to let him sleep for awhile. Neither one of them needed to escape in a hurry now anyway. Heero leaned against the wall and cradled Duo close to him, listening to the hundreds of anguished voices crying out just a few yards away.

On the floor amongst the rubble, he spotted a slip of tawny paper he hadn't seen before. He picked it up, thinking it must have been dislodged from some hiding place among the bank notes when Duo kicked them. It was a memo in Lord Jeffrhyss' handwriting:

> _'I have decided that I will permit you to return to England once this assignment is completed. However, be certain that I will be watching you more closely from now on. Never forget who your master is.'_

Staring blankly forward, he dropped the note and put his arm back securely around Duo, determined to sit there and think about absolutely nothing until he woke again.

**********  
  


With the stealth of a sidewinder snake, Quatre crept into the bedroom he shared with Trowa and slithered halfway under his bed, looking for buried treasure. Glancing carefully about to make sure his bodyguard wasn't guarding him at that particular moment, he pulled out the metal tin of sesame cookies and had another quick snack. _He wouldn't like me munching on these...but they're so good! I can't put them down!_

"Quatre, come back to the kitchen when you've got a minute," someone said from the doorway.

The gardnener froze at hearing Trowa's voice, but fortunately his back was turned, so he couldn't see the tin of cookies. Quatre swallowed quickly wiped the crumbs off his face. "Coming!" He frantically slapped the lid back on the tin the second Trowa was gone and put it back under the bed. _That was close._ As he rose from his spot, he felt a sharp pain in his stomach, and thought perhaps it was for the best if he left the cookies alone for awhile. He went to the kitchen and saw Hilde working busily on the last of the dinner dishes. Her back was to the boys as she toiled, and Trowa beckoned Quatre silently over and mouthed the words 'follow my lead.' Quatre nodded curiously.

Trowa cleared his throat. "Hilde..."

The girl jumped, and turned around, obviously startled. "Oh! Come for a late-night nibble? There's plenty of those muffins left..."

"If Duo's as sick as he sounds, shouldn't someone call a doctor?" Trowa asked in an innocent tone of voice.

Hilde shook her head. "He's afraid of doctors, he'll only jump out the window, trust me."

"Well then, at least someone should take him his dinner. He won't get any better without food, you know." He glanced over at Quatre.

"Oh yes, you're right," the blond boy chimed in, "it's not good to starve yourself when you're trying to recover from a sudden illness!"

The scullery maid blinked a few times. "...huh? What exactly are you saying, that I haven't been feeding him? That's ludicrous!"

Trowa pointed to the stack of dinner plates that had been used that evening. "You're one short. He hasn't had dinner yet, or there'd be one more dirty plate, wouldn't there?"

Hilde gave a tiny little gasp, then composed herself to look reasonably confident. "Well...he ate out of a bowl. And I already washed it and put it away, so tough luck."

"Just one bowl? You mean he didn't have dessert?" Quatre asked in mock despair. "Nobody should go without dessert, _especially_ when they're sick! I'll take his dessert up to him now." He quickly took a little plate and put a couple of the muffins on it.

The nervous girl jumped forward and tried to block off Quatre's exit. "No, no! That won't be necessary, he's asleep! And he's in no condition to be woken up, so you might as well save yourself the trip!"

"Then why don't I just put these on the bedside table and he can eat them when he wakes up?" He sidestepped Hilde while Trowa sneaked up on her from behind. The tall boy quickly clamped his arms on hers and restrained her from making any further motion towards the stairs.

"Eeek! Let me go!" she shrieked, kicking and thrashing so much that Trowa had to wrap his arms all the way around her torso and lift her off the ground to keep either of them from getting injured. "Put me down! And you! You get away from those stairs!"

"Why, Hilde? Why shouldn't he go up and see Duo?" Trowa asked in a sly voice, still lifting her several inches off the floor.

"I'm going up now, Hilde, unless you want to say something," Quatre sang from the bottom of the stairwell.

The girl cried and whimpered, but finally relented. "Don't go up, please! I'll tell you what you want to know, just don't tell anyone else!" Slowly, Trowa lowered her back down and Quatre came back with the plate of muffins. The cornered her against the kitchen table and waited for what Trowa expected would be one whopper of a story. "Duo's....not here."

Trowa folded his arms. "What do you mean, 'not here'?"

"I mean he's _gone_. He left a week ago."

Quatre looked confused. "Where did he go in such a rush that he couldn't tell us where he was going? And how could you make every one of his recipes come out perfectly without him? You said you were up and down those stairs three times a day asking him for cooking advice because you'd never touched a pot or pan in your life."

Hilde looked them both in the eyes back and forth, and sighed. "It'd be easier to show you than to tell you." She took them by a hand each and led them to the pantry. This was going to take awhile.

**********  
  


Duo woke in a dark haze, after suffering many strange dreams that involved Heero and blood in some way, and trying desperately to shut them all out of his mind. He vaguely wondered why he had fallen asleep sitting up until he felt the closeness of another person and instantly knew who it was. He smiled weakly. "Heero?"

"Hn?"

"What happened?"

"You passed out."

Duo nodded and snuggled his face back into Heero's shirt. "Oh." He looked up at the gap in the curtain. The auditorium was still brightly lit, but the voices were much quieter than before. "How long was I asleep?"

"A few hours."

The chef sat straight up and scooted away from Heero enough to look at him. "A few _hours?_ What did I miss? Where's the President??"

Heero leaned on arm on a raised knee, looking very tired. "They took him away. He was still alive when he left the building."

Duo sighed and closed his eyes. "Did you hear anything else?"

"No."

There really wasn't any further to reason to stay there, and Duo was more than ready to leave. "Can we go now?"

Heero almost smirked at that, and would have, had there been enough will left in him to do so. He sat up and gathered up the notes and pictures, put them all in a hollowed-out section of the gilded tray, and took out his lighter. Unwrapping one of the complimentary luxury cigars on the tray, he lit it, as well as the papers, placing them together in the hopes that the smell would be disguised to anyone passing by. Next, he reassembled the rifle and put it back in the case, then put the knocked-down chair back where it was standing earlier, and looked down at the floor. He wasn't sure what to do about the money.

"Take it, Heero." A surprising suggestion came from the weakened lips of his companion. "It's nobody's business anymore who gets it or why they got it."

Heero crouched next to the scattered five-dollar bills, but hesitated. Whether it got what it paid for or not, it was still blood money. "Are you sure?"

Duo leaned against the wall, putting on a brave smirk. "Yeah, what the hell, go ahead. It'll be like stealing from your boss, but he deserves it, after trying to make you do something like this."

Wordlessly, Heero gathered up the money, and they left together, keeping away from crowds of anguished people huddled around newspapers trying to piece together what happened. The mood of the place had darkened considerably. The feeling of fun that had permeated every molecule had disappeared completely, and all the citizens were in a depressed state unlike anything they had collectively experienced before. It was almost 10 o'clock, and fairly dark out, but the hundreds of thousands of electric lights scattered around the fairgrounds did nothing to brighten the atmosphere.

The two boys slipped out and tried to plot a safe route back to the train station to drop off the rifle and pick up Heero's suitcase, but there was a dramatic change in the city that wouldn't allow for covert movements. When they neared the city core, they found thousands of people crowding the streets, an angry mob that filled Main Street corner to corner, focused around police headquarters, where the true shooter was being held. Ropes had been strung in strategic places by the police in an effort to control the mob, but they pressed out against them, shaking newspapers in the air and chanting, 'LYNCH HIM! LYNCH HIM!'

Duo clasped Heero's arm from behind, as he sensed the other boy tense up at the mob's angry cries. They ducked down an alley to escape the ruckus, and Heero leaned against a brick wall and ran a hand through his hair, looking shell-shocked. "That could have been me they were shouting for...I was an eighth of an inch away from causing this...so close..."

"But you _didn't._ You're innocent, and you're going to stay that way," Duo ordered, grabbing him by the shoulders.

Heero looked away. "I won't be innocent in the eyes of the people who sent me, not when they realized I refused the mission and kept the payment."

"How will they know that? There were two shots, right? You could say one came from his gun and one came from yours!"

"But _this_ gun hasn't been fired!" Heero pointed out, giving the black case a sharp shake. "I'm supposed to put it back in the storage locker where I found it, but they'll be able to tell it was never used!"

"Fire it now and put it back later!"

"With that lynch mob standing a few feet away!? It would only cause a riot!"

Duo scratched his head and ran over his brief knowledge of American geography. "Throw it in the lake!"

"...what?"

"Just throw it in the lake! It's not that far from here, and nobody will ever see it again! You can tell your boss that the police were hot on your trail and you had to get rid of it! Please, Heero!"

After a moment's thought, he nodded, and they took off towards Lake Erie, avoiding the eyes of the mob and the police. Guilt and suspicion were hovering over them the entire time, and whenever they bumped into someone, it jolted them into wondering if that was the person who would turn them in for acting suspiciously.

Another long walk later, and they were at the lakeshore. It was pitch black out, and nobody seemed to be around at that particular spot where they were standing. Heero opened the black case a crack and filled it with water, then snapped it shut, and with a gargantuan effort, hurled it a good twenty yards away, and it sank instantly. Watching it fall beneath the black surface of the water, he felt a strange sense of liberation, even though he knew he would probably pay for it later.

Duo came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. "What now?"

Heero shrugged. "I didn't plan on getting this far."

"Well, I'll tell ya what _I_ think you should do," Duo said, walking around to face him, "you told everyone you were going on vacation, right? So _now_ you're on vacation. Seriously, what else can you do? You're stuck here until your boat leaves, you're incredibly rich, so you might as well enjoy the time you've got left." The day's events had put Duo in a strangely philosophical mood.

Heero looked deeply into those amethyst gems, marvelling once again at how much their owner was willing to sacrifice just to be close to him. _He must have put himself through hell to get here...to get to me...why?_ At that moment, he could think of only one fitting way to reward him. He stepped beside Duo and draped an arm around his shoulders, walking him slowly away from the shoreline. "In that case," he announced, "as soon as we fetch my suitcase, _we_ are going to take that money and seek ourselves the finest rooms in the finest hotel to be found within a hundred miles of this place. First class all the way. And _we_ are both officially on vacation until it's time for me to leave. Agreed?"

Duo smiled widely. "You bet," he chirped, "but you've gotta agree to something too. Sooner or later, I want you to talk to me. I want you to tell me about yourself, the whole truth this time. I want to know what's going on with you....because I worry about you, Heero." He coiled his own arm around his friend's shoulders, tying them together in an inseparable knot.

Heero smiled. It was no use, Duo wasn't going to let go of him for all the world, so it would be quite right to make the best of it. He didn't realize until then that he had something very special in this friendship, someone very special walking beside him, who would drag himself to the ends of the earth to be with him. It was a nice feeling, and he had too few of those in his short lifetime, so he was doubly determined to enjoy it. "Agreed." Explanations would come later. For now, they had some serious relaxing to do. 

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


> _Next, in Episode Eighteen: While Duo and Heero share their secrets in America, something unsavoury is happening back at Bridlewood. Quatre falls ill mysteriously, and nobody knows the cause. How could the event have been affected by Duo's disappearance, and how long can the staff keep it a secret from Relena?_

YEE-HAW! I thought I'd NEVER finish this one! I made so many revisions, and did so much research...oh by the way, a MAJOR research credit goes to [A Souvenir of the Pan-American Exposition][1], an excellent site from which I took pretty much all of my historical facts about this event. It's got a ton of info and pictures, so check it out! And incidentally, there may be the odd deadly weapon at the bottom of Lake Erie, but definitely not Heero's rifle, so put away your wet suits, people. =P Next episode is due out September 14th! =^_^= Baibai!

   [1]: http://intotem.buffnet.net/bhw/panamex/Welcome.html



	18. Shoulder To Shoulder

As I've warned, this is the episode that has been edited **slightly** for content. The changes were to the dialogue **only** and have not affected the story in any way. Issues that are only lightly touched upon here (I won't say which) will probably be dealt with more heavily at a later date, whenever it's felt that it would be more appropriate to do so. And finally, welcome back, FFN! I don't care if it's back in a limited capacity, I'd rather have a condensed version than none at all! Having said that, I'm off to fetch a condensed doughnut. *tummy grumble*

Disclaimer: It seems that children everywhere are conning their parents into thinking that a laptop and a cell phone are now required elements of back-to-school shopping. I tried to convince my mother that a matching set of five Gundam pilots were necessary items for back-to-FFN-shopping, but she didn't fall for it. =¬_¬= Darnit, ma...

**Suggested Font: Times New Roman**  
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Episode Eighteen: Shoulder To Shoulder

> _"Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." ~Psalm 30, Verse 5_

September 14th, 1901

Late in the evening of September 13th, in the house Mr. John G. Milburn, where William McKinley had been bedridden for the last eight days, the doctors and nurses who had hovered around the President fastidiously and with all the spirit they could muster, finally gave up hope.

Certain that the end was near, the President's invalid wife, Ida, was helped into the room and given a chair by her ailing husband's bedside. McKinley drifted in and out of consciousness for many hours, speaking rarely and faintly to those still remaining in the room. When he felt the battle was surely lost, he used his last drop of strength to whisper tender good-byes to his beloved. The priviledged few who were present witnessed the last words of William McKinley with sorrow and reverence. "It is God's way. His will be done."

At 2:16am on the morning of September 14th, the President was pronounced dead.

**********  
  


After a long night's fitful attempts at sleep, Quatre lay in bed, unmoving. What began as a slight tummy-ache due theoretically to an overindulgence of sesame cookies a week ago, graduated into severe stomach pains and a partial loss of appetite within three days. Following that, he became agitated, nervous, twitchy, and at the same time exhibited very slow deep breathing that should have made him relax, but didn't. The point came where he could no longer hide his sudden illness from Trowa, but despite his poor condition and the bodyguard's vehement protests, Quatre refused to be seen by any doctor, for fear of revealing his position to his family.

The boy looked paler than ever, tucked in bed up to his chin and feverishly convulsing as Hilde pressed cool cloths to his forehead. It was more than Trowa could stand, and he made the painful decision to break his first promise to his friend and seek out medical assistance. He left in a bit of a panic on the morning of the 14th, clutching the piece of paper Heero had given the pair before his departure. There was only one person in London they could trust.

Quatre was so out of it by that point that he didn't notice anyone leaving or entering his room in the cellar, but Hilde made sure to stay with him the entire time. "Go to sleep if you can," she said quietly, "you hardly got a wink last night, and you could probably use the rest."

He only murmured in return. Hilde bit her lip, knowing that they couldn't keep his illness a secret much longer. Arthur knew, and was trying to manage the gardens on his own well enough that Miss Relena wouldn't notice any decline in their appearance, but he was an old man, and couldn't keep up the facade much longer; it was just too much work.

Suddenly, the girl's worst fears all began crashing in on her, as she heard more than one set of footsteps lightly padding down the stairs. Seconds later, Relena walked in, followed closely by Dorothy. Relena's reaction was one of saddened shock, while Dorothy seemed to squint and make calculating glances at the boy, as if making a mental roadmap of the situation.

"I _knew_ something was wrong," Relena cried. "I haven't seen him for days! Did he think I wouldn't notice? What's wrong with him? Why hasn't anyone called the doctor?" She barraged Hilde with questions, wringing her white silk handkerchief in both hands while Dorothy patted her shoulder comfortingly.

Hilde stumbled over her words and looked like a frightened animal about to bolt away from a busy road. "He...just didn't want to cause trouble, or...unnecessary expense, that's all. He's convinced it's just a little stomach ailment, he'll get over it quickly, I know he will!"

Relena folded her arms and peered down at the scullery maid with concern. "Coming so soon after Duo fell ill, I'm seriously worried about this house having been contaminated by something. Two major bouts of illness severe enough to force people into bed, so close together, cannot be a coincidence. It was terribly wrong of the pair of you to presume I wouldn't notice what was going on in my own house. I also guessed that having two sick people to care for on top of cooking all the meals would be too much for you, and have acted accordingly." She unfolded her arms and clasped her hands regally near her waist. "That's why I've just told Bethany to take over caring for Duo, so you can concentrate your efforts here."

Hilde's eyes bulged to an unnatural size. "You did _what!?_"

"Calm down, I'm not trying to make it seem as if I don't have any confidence in you," Relena said, "but I've also sent her upstairs to ask Duo what his symptoms were, to see if they match Quatre's."

Hilde nearly fainted. Duo's fate, as well as her own, were sealed, unless she could come up with a good excuse. She didn't have long to think, however, for a third set of rather energetic footsteps came crashing down, along with cries of "M'lady! M'lady!"

Relena spun around just as an out-of-breath Bethany appeared. "What's the mattter? Is Duo alright?"

"'E's more than alright, 'e's gone! 'E's legged it!" She leaned against a wall to catch her breath, while it was Relena's turn to look horrified. "The bed's empty, an' looks like it ain't been slept in for ages!"

Somewhere between surprised, confused, and downright furious, Relena looked back at Hilde intensely. The maid tugged at her lace collar and thought, fast. "Oh, uh....haven't you heard? I guess he must have been in too much of a hurry, but...um...he got better last week, then a letter came saying that one of his relatives was sick and he had to leave right away. His aunt. In Birmingham. So, he won't be back for a few days yet, but don't worry, the food's taken care of!" She grinned innocently at Relena and prayed that her act had been sufficiently convincing.

Her Ladyship was so stunned, it took her a few seconds to remember where her mouth was and start using it. "How _dare_ he leave the estate without informing me!? I intend to have some _severe_ words with that boy once he returns, make no mistake! If it weren't for his salmon mousse and his chocolate cream puffs, I might dispense with his services altogether!" She pointed angrily at Hilde, her handkerchief fluttering around with each jerk of her hand. "You tell that little layabout that I want to speak to him as soon as he arrives!" Mercifully, she turned and stomped out of the room and back up the stairs, without another thought to anyone's health, least of all Quatre's.

Dorothy didn't follow her Ladyship right away; instead she stood in the same spot, looking Quatre over, carefully studying his face as if wondering if he was really sick or just faking. Knowing she wasn't out of the woods yet, Hilde looked up at the woman with doe eyes and cleared her throat gently. "M'lady...forgive me, but it's really best if Quatre gets some sleep right now. Perhaps you should visit him later."

The fair-haired lady tossed her head back haughtily. _I was just going, you impudent whelp...Lady Une will want to hear of this._ "Of course, my dear, you're right. Do give him my best when he wakes up." Dorothy turned on her heel and stalked out just as quickly as Relena had.

As soon as she was gone, Hilde exhaled deeply with relief. _Safe for a little while longer,_ she thought. She continued pressing the cool cloth to Quatre's forehead as he twitched and moaned quietly, looking down at him with the only genuine worry he'd received for the last ten minutes. All was perfectly calm again, when a cinnamon-brown head peeked in through the alternate exit, the rickety wooden door leading out to the back garden.

"Are they gone?" the visitor whispered.

Hilde looked up, smiled, and nodded. "It's safe, c'mon in."

Trowa crept inside with someone on his arm, a tallish woman with strawberry blonde hair carrying a black Gladstone bag, the kind doctors usually sported. She wore her favourite fern green dress for town, and her hair hung past her shoulders in two loosely-woven twists, as she really didn't have a great deal of time to make herself presentable before a frantic boy in dusty clothes started banging desperately on her door right after breakfast. "He's over here," Trowa told the woman, pulling her over to the bed.

Introductions were waived as the woman headed straight for the bedside chair, which Hilde immediately vacated. "What are his symptoms?"

"Stomach pains, loss of appetite, slight fever, and very agitated when he's awake, which isn't often anymore," Hilde said sadly.

The blonde woman nodded and opened her black bag, pulling out several instruments with which she began methodically gauging Quatre's pulse, blood pressure, and other vital statistics. "When did this start?"

"About a week ago," Trowa said, "but it wasn't nearly this bad. It was just a stomachache at first, then it got worse and worse every day since."

"Is anyone else in the house sick?" the woman asked.

Hilde shook her head. "No, ma'am."

The woman nodded again. She felt around Quatre's neck looking for swollen glands and pried up his eyelids, all the while squinting and mouthing words to herself under her breath. As she worked, Hilde pulled Trowa aside and stood on tiptoe to reach his ear. "Who is she?" the girl whispered.

"Her name is Sally Poole. She's a doctor Heero told me about before he left. She won't tell anyone in or out of the house about this, but we have to keep her hidden in return. If nobody sees her here, Quatre and I can still use her house as a refuge if there's an emergency and we have to leave Bridlewood."

Hilde looked over at the grim scene and nodded, still very much concerned. After no more than a ten-minute examination, Dr. Poole rose and walked over to the pair with her arms folded. "Has he left the house at all in the last week?" the doctor asked.

"Only to go outside and do the gardens," Hilde said, "but he couldn't even manage that after a few days."

"What's wrong with him, doctor?" Trowa pleaded in an aching voice.

Dr. Poole shook her head. "I'm not sure yet. What's he been eating lately?"

"Nothing the rest of us haven't eaten," the boy answered, "and Hilde's prepared every single meal since our chef left us."

The blonde woman turned to Hilde. "What about the ingredients you used? Were they all in good condition? Could anything have spoiled without you noticing?"

Hilde and Trowa looked back and forth between the doctor and each other, then the scullery maid brightened and shook her head, eyes wide. "Oh, no, it couldn't be that! Let me show you!" She took the doctor by the arm and led her out of the bedroom, through the kitchen, and into the pantry as she had done a week ago with both Quatre and Trowa, only less apprehensive this time. She opened the door and let Dr. Poole have a good long look at what was inside. The pantry was only about a third full now, some shelves holding jars of food, some holding empty jars, some just collecting dust. 

"Before our chef went on vacation," the girl explained, "he cooked three weeks' worth of meals ahead of time and sealed them in these jars. All the hot dishes are here, all the cold dishes are in a closet he converted for cold storage, and I've only had to heat up the main courses and dish them out! The only ingredients that have come into the house in the last two weeks are milk, butter, eggs, bread, and a bit of fresh fruit, but we've all eaten them and only Quatre is sick!"

"So you see, it can't possibly be food poisoning, because all the food has been sealed up since before all this happened!" Trowa added.

Dr. Poole looked rather impressed, but nevertheless took a jar at random off the pantry shelf to check the status of it's seal. She looked at another four jars, and the seals all appeared to be perfect, and could not have been tampered with. She set the last jar back on the shelf and turned back to the youngsters, mind reeling. "Alright...I'm going to assume for the moment that all the jars that have already been opened had good seals, and that there was no outside contamination and no spoilage. Are you absolutely _sure_ that he hasn't eaten anything else that you haven't prepared yourself, or that didn't come out of those jars?"

Trowa shook his head silently, unable to recall any such occasion, but as Hilde thought over the events of the last week, she remembered something that made her go cold. "Sesame cookies..."

"What?" the others asked in unison.

Hilde sheepishly wrung her apron in worry, and forced herself to look Trowa in the eye. "He didn't want you to know that he was snacking between meals...but Elsie bought him a tin of sesame cookies a week ago, while she was out buying bread and--"

"Show me!" Trowa shouted, grabbing her by the arm. The girl ran back to the bedroom with the other two close behind her, and all but dove under Quatre's bed looking for the squarish metal tin. She crawled back up on her knees and produced the tin, which was quickly snatched away by the angry bodyguard. "Where did these come from!?"

"I don't know!" Hilde cried as the boy tore off the lid and examined the cookies inside. Without saying another word to either ladies, Trowa bolted back to the kitchen and began shouting for Elsie at the top of his lungs. Hilde had never heard the quiet lad make such a racket, and clapped her hands over her ears in terror at his hideous wrath. She and Dr. Poole crept to the door of the bedroom but went no further, listening from a distance as Elsie careened down the stairs to see what was the matter.

"Where did you get these!?" Trowa demanded, shoving the open tin in her face.

"Eh? What's all this?" she stammered.

"Where did they _come_ from!?"

Elsie flinched, then took a step back as she thought back to her shopping trip. "I got 'em from a lady in the market. She said, 'You live in that 'ouse with the fair-haired boy, don't you,' and I said yes, then she said 'Why don't you take these biscuits home to him, 'cause I'll bet they're 'is favourite,' and I had plenty o' money left over, so I--"

"What did she look like!?" Trowa growled, grabbing her by the arm with his free hand.

"Well, I dunno, do I!?" the housemaid squealed, more than a little spooked by the line of questioning. "She 'ad a veil on! I couldn't see 'er face!"

At that, the truth became painfully clear. Trowa went pale, let go of Elsie, and nearly dropped the almost empty tin of biscuits as well. One of Quatre's sisters had somehow planned this, and he hadn't been able to stop it. He wobbled slightly on the spot where he stood, while Hilde darted out from the shadows and shooed Elsie away.

"You'd better go back to whatever you were doing," she said in a voice approaching tears, "and don't talk to anyone about this!"

Elsie straightened her uniform, still looking very bewildered, and walked away, muttering under her breath. "Barking mad, if you ask me..."

Hilde hustled the stunned stable lad back into his bedroom where Dr. Poole was still standing by the door, listening. The expressions she read off the teens' faces told her that this could be much more than a simple case of food poisoning, and after the late-night visit she received from Heero and Duo weeks earlier, she decided not to be at all surprised if there was something shady behind it.

The doctor folded her arms and looked them over. "What's going on?"

They had no choice. If Quatre had any hope of getting well, they had to break their pact of silence. Trowa and Hilde sat Dr. Poole down and revealed the secret of the Winner family tontine, slowly explaining the events of the past few months and the danger Quatre was in from his own flesh and blood. The entire time the three of them were talking, they shot furtive, nervous glances at the tin of sesame cookies, which were now lying untouched on the bedside table. Quatre himself was asleep and barely breathing.

**********  
  


News of the President's death was met with tremendous grief across the United States, after the nation's hopes had been raised that their leader would make a full recovery. When he finally succumbed to his injuries, the people were newly charged with rage and crying for vengeance against the shooter, one Leon Czolgosz of no admitted organization or terrorist league. Heero had worried greatly that Duo would fall to pieces upon hearing the inevitable news, but the boy took it on the chin, having already prepared himself mentally, as well as could be expected.

Knowing that the worst case scenario would be the most likely to occur, Heero had used the tainted money from the hit that never was to give his friend the best vacation he could have had under such rough circumstances. They spent another entire day at the drastically less populated Exposition, paying special attention to the Japanese pavillion, where Duo enjoyed tea and impressed the geisha girls with his limited knowledge of their language.

After that, they both went back to New York, found themselves a very rich suite in one of the more posh hotels, and disposed of the ineffective blood money with due haste. Heero bought Duo anything and everything he desired in the way of rich food and fine entertainment, and Duo in turn provided a large amount of advice on where to spend the remaining money. He introduced Heero to his first carriage ride through Central Park, his first outdoor Dixieland concert, and his first Coca-Cola. While the rest of the country mourned, they indulged in a little piece of solitude while listening to the band play 'Just A Closer Walk With Thee' to sparse and saddened crowds.

It was now the day on which Heero had been tentatively scheduled to sail back to England, freedom permitting. The boys had been lounging around Coney Island, close to what one might call deserted, and were relaxing on the beach watching the waves roll in, Duo on the left and Heero on the right, facing the sea.

As they laid there on the sand in their newly-bought casual clothes, staring up at the clouds and hoping the day would never end, the situation they had been avoiding all week forced its way out into the open. "I'm supposed to go back to England today," Heero said quietly.

It was a strange thing for either of them to think about. Heero, who presumed that he might not live long enough to reach the boat, was suddenly able to return home, and Duo, who had spent his entire life dreaming of his true home, finally arrived just as his best friend was about to leave. The braided boy sat up and wrapped his arms around his knees. "We've got a few things to discuss before you go, you realize that, right?"

"Hai."

While Heero continued to stare at the sky, Duo unravelled his braid and shook the sand out of it. "We both know I haven't got a dime, except what you give me...we also both know that you haven't said a word about taking me with you tonight. It's because you think I'd be safer here, isn't it?"

A pause. "Hai."

Duo thought about that, rebraided his hair, and leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees and staring out at the ocean. He let out a long, frustrated breath. "I thought I'd gotten through to you."

Heero turned his head to look up at the boy. "What?"

"I thought I got you to see that I don't need to be wrapped up in cotton wool just to be around you. I'm not helpless, and I'm not a coward either."

With a slight sigh, Heero sat up as well, propping an arm up on one knee. "I never said you were..."

"Then why haven't you asked me to go back with you?" Duo demanded. "Are you waiting for me to get down on my knees and beg, or are you just going to let me stow away again? Do you even want me with you at all? It can't just be concern for my health, because I've shown you over and over that I'm tough enough to take anything life throws at me!"

"It's not that I think badly of you," Heero said, rubbing his eyes, "it's just that...you have no idea what I'm up against, even after what happened last week. I don't want you involved. I don't want you knowing too much about me because you might never escape."

Duo put on his holier-than-thou face and kept staring at the water. "I already know more than you think..." He let the statement hang in the air like bait on a fishing rod; Heero bit quickly, snapping his head around to face him.

"What do you know?"

Duo shrugged innocently. "I know what I heard when you were having that little swordfight with that guy, Wufei," he began, well aware of the growing expression of shock and horror on his friend's face, "I know you work for a Lord Jeffrhyss, and that's he's got some big mother of a covert operation going on. Not too hard to figure out that he's got some major hold on you to be able to drag you out here on a suicide mission, and that hold probably has something to do with those scars you haven't told me about." He turned his head just enough to look into Heero's widened, mortified eyes. "I know you're not a guy to be ashamed of your injuries, especially old ones...it wasn't that you didn't want me to know you'd been hurt, more like you didn't want me getting mixed up with the kind of people strong enough to hurt you. So, yeah, I've got a pretty damn good idea of what you're up against, thank you."

Heero shut his eyes and turned away slightly, instantly blaming himself for letting what he most feared happen out of carelessness. "You should have told me."

Duo laughed without mirth. "Ha! I know exactly how you would have reacted if I did, that's why I went to so much trouble to get here without you knowing! Your trouble is, after everything we've been through together, you have yet to realize that I'm not the kind of psychological weakling that would run away from problems like yours! I wasn't brought up to abandon people I cared about!"

He swivelled to face Heero and took something out of his jacket pocket, a worn photograph that had seen more environmental punishment than it was probably meant to. It was still plainly visible, however, and sported the kindly face of a young woman with long blonde hair. He showed it to Heero. "You see her? That's Helen, the patron saint of hopeless causes. When it looked like my folks weren't coming back for me, I stayed with her in Ireland for a few years, and I'll never forget the three most important things she taught me: loyalty, honesty, and responsibility.

"When I heard you were coming here and might not make it back alive, I knew I had to go with you...I didn't know for what, to protect you, or to stop you, or just see you before you did something idiotic and I lost you for good. We're _friends_, and friendship is about loyalty. There was no way I was going to let you come all this way on your own and have nobody around who cared about you when whatever was supposed to happen happened." He handed Heero the photograph and let him study the woman's face solemnly as he continued.

"Then I thought, 'If I even hint that I intend to come along, he's going to do everything he can to stop me.' You knew how much I cherish honesty, and if you thought for one second that I'd put myself in danger for your sake, you would have _ordered_ me to stay in England. You'd have forced me to promise that I wouldn't come after you because you know I'd never break a promise or lie in making it. That's why I avoided you all day before you left, because if you couldn't talk to me, you couldn't tell me to stay.

"Early on it dawned on me that there was something else holding me back...I had a house to feed, and I couldn't do that if I was on the other side of the world, right? For the first time in my life, I've got a decent job and people who depend on me, and if I just took off after you and left them all for the sake of the first two values Helen taught me, I'd be forsaking the third...responsibility."

The boys locked eyes, and Duo began punctuating his story with emphatic hand gestures. "You wanna know how hard I worked to be able to come find you with a clear conscience? I had to make sure the whole house was taken care of food-wise, so I cooked all the meals for the next three weeks and sealed them up in Mason jars in the pantry. I did all the desserts, all the cut fruit, and put them in jars too, and stuffed them in the broom closet, which incidentally is now a cold storage room with ice trays and everything. I even made dry mixes for all the baked goods, like cookies, and pancakes, and tea biscuits, and I made a huge chart and stuck it up on the pantry wall so all Hilde has to do is look up what day it is, open the jars, throw some milk and eggs in the cookie mix and toss it all in the oven! Every single, solitary bite of food was pre-planned just so I could have the supreme _joy_ of risking my life on a rickety lifeboat to come and find _you!_" On the last syllable, he poked Heero hard in the shoulder.

The Japanese boy seemed to digest all this for several seconds before putting his two cents in. "You turned the broom closet into a cold storage?"

Duo grinned proudly. "Yeah!"

"Did you insulate it?"

Duo blinked.

"Because if you didn't, the ice will have probably melted by now, much faster than you calculated."

The chef's eyes narrowed. "Must you split hairs at a time like this?"

Heero smirked, imagining Elsie and Bethany wading through an inch of water to get to their dinner. "I'm sorry. You did an excellent job, I'm sure."

"Well, thanks," Duo whined teasingly. "See, it doesn't kill you to be a little supportive of my hobbies once in awhile.

With a faint but genuine smile, Heero handed back the photograph. "She'd be very proud of you."

"I hope so," Duo said quietly, putting the photo back in it's usual pocket. "After all, I did manage to get all the way to America on no money, find you, stop you, and then keep you from losing your mind while there were ten thousand angry rioters roaming the streets, all without compromising any of my principles. That should _prove_ to you, once and for all, that you haven't got any ordinary nutcase for a sidekick, and if you _still_ think I can't handle knowing who you are and what you're up to, then you've gotta be crazier than I am!" He ended his argument, flopped back down on the sand, forgetting that he'd get more of it in his hair, and stared up at the clouds again.

After a few minutes silently pondering what Duo had put himself through, Heero laid back down on the sand as well, letting his hands fall onto his waist and gazing up at the mottled celestial umbrella of blue and white.

"So, are you gonna tell me or what?"

"...hn?"

Another brief pause. "Who are you, Heero Yuy? The whole truth, this time. I think I've earned it."

_...indeed you have._ Heero listened to the rolling waves for awhile, trying to decide where to begin, then took a deep breath. "I was orphaned at about the same age you were. I don't remember where I was, only that I was alone, and at some point Lord Jeffrhyss found me and took me in. All I've ever known before Bridlewood is being trained to become whatever he wanted...a fighter, a spy, an assassin...I never thought there was anything wrong with it because I never knew any other way to live. Time had no meaning because every day was the same...take orders and complete assignments, or make a mistake and receive punishment." He looked over out of the corner of his eye and saw Duo wince as he made the connection between that and Heero's scars.

"Lord Jeffrhyss is the head of an organization that believes in keeping more secrets from it's own members than from anyone else. There are several more like it, and they all have the same goal, to be the one with ultimate control over the nations of the earth. They compete with one another to see who can make the greatest impact, and they have no regard for the lives they disrupt along the way. All that matters is winning the game.

"It may well have been one of Jeffrhyss' rivals who ordered the successful attack on the President, and as soon as they take credit for it, he will know that I failed. I won't be able to escape retribution, but at least I can hope that I won't be sent on any mission remotely like this for awhile. It would be too much of a risk to let me fail twice."

Duo turned his head enough to press one ear into the warm sand. "Why can't you just quit altogether? Tell him to cram his stupid job and find somebody else to pick on?"

"Being part of one of these organizations is rather like being part of Quatre's tontine," Heero said with a hint of sadness. "Once you're in, you're in for life. If you desert the cause, someone else will be assigned to take you out. We all know too much to be allowed to run away, and too little to protect ourselves from our masters. This is my life. It always has been, and it always will be."

With renewed confidence, Duo looked back up at the sky, reached for his friend's hand, and clutched it gently. He raised both their hands to eye level, pointing up at the endless sky. "Then it's my life too. I care about you too much to let you go through this alone. Somehow or other, we're gonna figure out a way to get you out without getting you killed...because you deserve better." Duo gave the hand in his an affectionate squeeze, and very shortly after, Heero actually squeezed back.

They let go at the same time and settled back into the sand, while a content smirk settled across Duo's face. "So, I don't care if I have to knock you out and carry you aboard, or glue myself to your suitcase. I'm coming with you on that boat to England, and there's nothing you can say or do short of fishing that rifle out of the lake that can stop me. Deal with it."

Wordlessly, Heero slowly took something out of his own jacket pocket, a small white envelope made thick by it's contents. He switched it from his left hand to his right and held it in front of Duo. The braided boy blinked, then took the envelope and turned it over once or twice. "What's this?"

Heero closed his eyes and shrugged innocently. "Your ticket. We have adjoining cabins."

Duo stared at the little envelope in disbelief. "You had this all along," he said quietly. A wide smile appeared. "......you brat!!"

Heero threw his arms up in front of his face and rolled away from the inevitable handful of sand that was flung in his direction. He defended himself with a double-handed sand bomb, which turned the minor skirmish into a full-scale sand war. In a bizzare contest to see which one could get the other more covered in the tawny grains, the pair laughed and tumbled around on the beach in a rare moment of pure joy the like of which couldn't be found anywhere else for miles. It felt wonderful to be children without rules at last.

**********  
  


Sally leaned back in the old wooden kitchen chair and rubbed her aching right shoulder, then turned the gaslamp up a notch. Trowa had graciously found her a small basement room to work in where she wouldn't be seen, but it was lacking in creature comforts like upholstered seating arrangements and electric lights that she was used to in her own comfortable laboratory. Having made an expedition to her house for two large armloads of glassware, chemicals, and miscellaneous scientific equipment, she turned the tiny room into a miniature version of her lab, where she could properly analyze the sesame cookies which had drawn so much suspicion, while keeping a close eye on her patient.

After what felt like an eternity of tinkering with test tubes and various noxious liquids, she was all too near to the unfortunate solution to the puzzle. She slumped in her chair and was waiting for a second test to confirm the results, when something about ankle-high brushed her leg. Sally looked down in surprise and found a large, fluffy white cat hovering around her feet. She smiled at the feline, and it meowed a greeting in return.

Happy to have some company that wasn't ill or in a state of panic, she picked up the cat and let it sit in the folds of her green dress, purring contentedly. Sally stroked the cat's head and back, then stopped and seemed to notice something about its slightly plump belly. She prodded lightly around the fluffy white fur and finally found something to smile about. "Not much longer for you, is it? Good to know someone in this house had a nice summer..."

The cat licked her hand, knowing only another woman could understand what was on her mind, then hopped down and padded away, swishing her tail back and forth merrily.

Sally looked back up at her equipment and saw that the second test had turned out the same result as the first. With a sombre expression, she walked back to the boys' bedroom where Trowa and Hilde were sitting very stiffly on the unoccupied bed. Out of all the times she had come in to check Quatre's temperature or blood pressure over the last hour, they could tell that this time was different. She finally had something to say.

"I think it's strychnine," she declared.

The two worried servants swallowed grimly and clasped each other's hands. The patient didn't make a sound.

Sally checked his fever once more before delving into a more thorough diagnosis. "It was definitely in the sesame cookies. Trace amounts of poison that barely register on their own, but if the tin was full and he's eaten most of what was there, it's built up in his system gradually over the last week, and...this is the result." She indicated the pale, sickly boy with one hand.

"What's the treatment?" Trowa whispered fearfully.

"Since the poisoning wasn't acute, there really isn't one," she said, "other than administering sedatives and hoping that the toxins clear his system on their own." Their reaction to this was less than cheerful; both knew that Quatre likely wasn't strong enough to wait that long, and the fever was getting the better of him already. Seeing the forlorn response, Sally stepped forward and lowered her voice. "There _is_ an alternative..."

Two pair of eyes snapped wide open. "What do you mean?" Hilde asked plaintively.

"I've spent many years studying eastern medicine, particularly Chinese herbal remedies," Sally explained. "While I can't guarantee he'll recover completely, there are certain mixtures I could give him that might help cleanse his blood and lower his fever. However, I can't do anything unless I have your absolute understanding that I don't know if it will make him better, and if I choose the wrong herbs, it may make him worse."

Trowa looked despondently at his little friend, gaunt and wheezing under the thin sheets. _How much worse could he possibly get?_ He focused his emerald green eyes very intensely on Dr. Poole and set his jaw. "I want you to do anything and everything you can for him, doctor."

Slowly, Sally nodded and disappeared back into the makeshift laboratory to collect a few items. She returned with a red satin bag, delicately embroidered with a colourful Chinese dragon, and set it on the bedside table. From the bag, she took nearly a dozen different little glass jars filled with green leaves and brown powders, which she began mixing in varying combinations with a mortar and pestle.

Even while there seemed to be hope in sight, Trowa was beside himself with grief. "I can't believe this is happening...I promised I'd protect him no matter what!"

"You weren't to know!" Hilde cried. "He kept those cookies a secret because he didn't want you worrying about his diet! You did everything you could for him..."

"If that's true, why is he lying there half dead?" Trowa choked. "But then, maybe I really couldn't have done any more. After all, if Duo hadn't left us, this might never have happened, and I couldn't stop _him_ from running away, could I!? If Quat dies because of Duo's thoughtlessness, I'll _never_ forgive him!"

"Actually," Dr. Poole interjected, "if he hadn't taken such care in sealing up all the food so well, I wouldn't have known where to start looking for the poison. I'd even go so far to say that his efforts may have saved your friend's life."

Trowa looked up with a blend of powerful emotions that all fought for control of his unshed tears. "You mean he'll live?"

Sally tilted her head to the side as she poured some fresh water into a small bowl. "His chances are certainly better than they would have been if I'd spent hours and hours looking through all the cupboards and testing every speck of food for contamination. The sooner we start treatment, the better, and your chef saved us a lot of time." With that statement, Trowa looked down at his hands, gaze heavy with guilt over being so angry, and Sally left the room for another pitcher of fresh water.

Everything in the room was quite still until the pale lump under the thin blanket a few feet away stirred slightly. With a tiny groan, a sweat-soaked head of feathery blond hair peeked out with tired, dark-ringed eyes. Before Quatre could even think about uttering a syllable, Trowa was instantly at his bedside trying to keep him quiet until the doctor returned.

"Shhh, little one...don't try to talk," he said softly.

Quatre refused to be quieted completely, although his voice was barely more than a whisper. "Trowa...I'm sorry..."

The cinnamon-haired boy shook his head and stroked his friend's hand. "I should be apologizing to you for letting this happen. I let my guard down, and I swear I'll never let danger like this catch up with you again."

Quatre swallowed and forced out his statement between laboured breaths. "Don't...want you...to be angry...at Duo..."

Trowa hung his head dejectedly. "I'm more angry at myself than anyone."

"Don't....want that......either." The sickly Arabian gave him a brave little smile before drifting back off to sleep. Trowa couldn't bring himself to even hope for forgiveness, but in Quatre's mind, there was nothing to forgive.

Sally returned just then with the water and set the pitcher on the bedside table, next to the mixtures of herbs and leaves. "The chart on the wall says it's about time you were serving tea," she said to Hilde with a smallish grin, "so you'd better get out there and feed the troops. We'll be fine in here." The little brunette dried her eyes, nodded to the doctor and left. Sally and Trowa sat up the rest of the night with Quatre and the Chinese herbs, trying this combination and that, looking for something that would ease his suffering and cleanse his polluted blood. The gardener's fate was still uncertain, but Trowa made a solemn oath that if the boy survived this ordeal, he would look after his friend more carefully in the future. Obviously, London wasn't a safe place to be anymore.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


> _Next, in Episode Nineteen: The overseas travellers return home to a mixed welcome, as the overall dynamic in the house seems to have changed while they were away. New plans are made among the household alliances that will have lasting effects in the months to come. Meanwhile, has Quatre survived his potentially lethal dose of treachery, or will Bridlewood be looking for a new gardener?_

Alright...you know how I've been reluctant to give away pairings? It's because I didn't want people from either camp running away at the labels I'd have to put on this story. I wanted both sides to give me an honest chance as a writer before slapping a pageful of restrictions on myself and my work, so...that having been said, people who want to know what's what and who's likely to be with whom should start paying close attention to interpersonal relationships very soon. Those of you whom I know that you know what you're looking for, you've already found the beginnings of it. =^_~= I'm setting a goal for September 22 for the next episode, and I promise I'll write my little tail off to get it out on time. Ja ne!


	19. Enter the Dragon

Well, I had to finish typing this up at a friend's house because some low-down no-good dirty rotten little brother (I'm not naming names,) spilled Coca-Cola all over my keyboard, didn't tell me, and let me go on typing as if nothing was wrong. Hence, it's a day late. =( Sorry! I promise to get myself caught up a little further in advance from now on...I do admit I have a tendency to leave shtuff to the last minute...*blushie*

Disclaimer: It seems that children everywhere are conning their parents into thinking that a laptop and a cell phone are now required elements of back-to-school shopping. I tried to convince my mother that a matching set of five Gundam pilots were necessary items for back-to-FFN-shopping, but she didn't fall for it. =¬_¬= Darnit, ma...

**Suggested Font: Times New Roman**  
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Episode Nineteen: Enter the Dragon

> _"The lion and the calf shall lie down together, but the calf won't get much sleep." ~Woody Allen_

September 22nd, 1901

At an open-air French-style café in one of the classier districts of London, Wufei sat scowling at a newspaper as if willing it to spontaneously combust. He was looking over an article written by an American journalist that detailed as many personal facts as were available about the assassin who took the life of William McKinley. The name 'Heero Yuy' appeared nowhere. Wufei was most disappointed.

Worse still were the new orders he had received only two days earlier, to watch his rival rather than take his place. _What am I now? A glorified babysitter for a weakling who couldn't fire one bullet for the cause?_ The Chinese boy snarled and tossed the newspaper aside.

He contemplated his tea for awhile, then picked the paper back up, flipping to the classified ads and reading over one ad in particular. He'd already looked at it eight times that morning, but the part of his brain that didn't quite believe it was there and kept insisting on proof just wouldn't shut up. Wufei sighed at the ad, slightly depressed at how low he had sunk.

_Still, at least I do what I'm told, unlike other people I could mention,_ he thought. _There is no honour in disobedience._

Just then, he glanced across the street, and there walked the very object of his contempt--the failed assassin on his way back from America. He didn't see Wufei staring at him since he was too busy strolling and chatting with the person second highest on Wufei's list of people to be eliminated, the Maxwell boy. Both he and Yuy were carrying a suitcase. _Now, that's odd..._ He opened the newspaper wide and hid behind it, watching them.

Several yards away, barely squinting in the hazy mid-morning sun, Heero and Duo continued their conversation as they walked down the busy street. The ship had docked at 7:30 that morning, and although they had more than enough money for a sizable breakfast and a cab ride home, Duo wanted to get back to his roots by walking at least part of the way back to Bridlewood, so they did.

"It would probably be best if we arrived separately," Heero pointed out.

"Okay, tell you what...you take your suitcase back," Duo said, handing back the smaller of the two cases, "sit down, have a coffee, watch the world go by for awhile. I'll take a cab and jump out about a block from home, go in through the back, and see what excuses Hilde cooked up for me while I was gone. Give me about a half-hour head start."

Heero nodded and gave the boy ample cab fare from the change in his pockets. They parted ways and as Duo headed off in one direction, Heero picked up his cases and started walking across the street. Wufei stiffened slightly behind the newspaper, mind reeling with a hundred witty barbs he could use to defend himself in a verbal skirmish. As he waited and watched from behind the edge of the light gray leaves of newsprint, Heero stopped on the sidewalk just a few feet from Wufei's table. He took out his pocketwatch, checked the time, paused with his head only half-turned to look over his shoulder, then picked up his cases and walked away in the opposite direction.

Wufei blinked, then put the paper down and relaxed a bit as his nemesis disappeared into the crowd. _Pity...I would have enjoyed some sparring practice before the big match._

**********  
  


Charged with extra energy from having a wonderful brainstorm just before lunch, Relena went skipping gleefully down the hall from the conservatory, looking for her uncle. In her pale hands, which were trembling with excitement, was the morning newspaper. She finally caught up with the Count in the second-floor study and bounced over to his chair by the window like a rabbit on a sugar rush.

"Uncle Treize!" she squealed. "Wait till you see the wonderful thing I found in the newspaper today!"

Treize didn't seem to mind having his quiet morning disrupted, and if he did mind, he didn't let it show. "Oh really? What is it, my dear?"

"_Well,_" Relena began, squaring her shoulders and shaking back her long blonde tresses, "you know how I've been trying to improve myself, socially, right? When we had the Dorchesters over for dinner, Mrs. Dorchester was simply _crowing_ about having her sitting room redecorated in 'Art Nouveau', so I thought it'd be lovely to take some of those older rooms in the house that we hardly ever use and have _them_ decorated!"

Treize looked fatigued and bewildered at the rapid stream of feminine ideology flying in his face, but Relena hardly noticed as she whipped open the paper and read to him from the classifieds. "Listen to this: 'Exclusive interiors! Upmarket decorating firm available for your high-class interior design needs. Specializing in Art Nouveau, Rococco, and Oriental themes. Be the envy of your neighbours when you entertain surrounded by our quality home makeovers.' Doesn't it sound simply perfect?" Whoever had written the ad knew precisely which of Relena's buttons to push to get results.

The excited girl barely paused for breath. "I know it's an extra expense, but you've done such a marvelous job managing father's investments, I'm sure we can afford it! Think of the payoff when we start attracting the most exclusive guests in London to our dinner parties!" She turned her head to gaze quietly and ecstatically into space, eyebrows twitching to betray her state of total euphoria. "We'll be important..."

"Yes...well..." Treize muttered, not particularly wanting to get caught up in such trivial details, especially today. "I don't see any reason why you can't have a few rooms redone, but the decorators will be entirely _your_ responsibility. I have some very important business to attend to, so keep them well out of my way."

"Oh, _thank_ you, Uncle!" She flung her arms around his neck and gave him a giant hug, then let go and sprang for the door, pages of the newspaper fluttering in the breeze she created.

"I trust you can make the arrangements yourself," the Count said, turning disinterestedly back to his pipe, "decide on a date and time to have them in..."

Relena stopped at the door and half-turned towards him. "Oh, it's alright, I've already called them. They're sending someone 'round this afternoon. Bye!" She scampered away, victorious.

Treize smirked and shook his head. Fortunately for Relena, he remembered being an impulsive teenager once himself.

On her way back to the conservatory, Relena was stopped by a very humble Hilde, who curtsied and lowered her eyes as she spoke. "Begging your Ladyship's pardon, but Duo's just arrived." 'Just' was a bit of an exaggeration; he'd actually spent the previous ten minutes being debriefed by herself and Trowa on recent events.

"Ah, good," her Ladyship said authoritatively. She set the newspaper down on the hall table next to the telephone and marched quickly towards the back stairs, her good mood gone. She stamped down to the basement at a blinding pace, fists balled and brow knit, ready to have it out with her wayward chef. The girls ran into the kitchen and Relena spotted her quarry right away, standing in the center of the room and looking down at the floor in repentance.

"Duo," she said sharply, folding her arms, "you appear to be in _fine_ health now. Have anything to say to me?" Duo opened his mouth to speak but was quickly cut off. "I expect something in the way of respect and consideration from my employees, and am not used to one of my most essential workers swanning off to visit relatives without asking me first!"

Duo tired hard to look remorseful. "I know, m'lady, and I'm awfully sorry, but I _had_ to go!" He took a worn photograph of a fair-haired woman out of his jacket pocket and showed it to Relena. "I mean...poor, poor Auntie Helen, all alone in a miserable one-room flat with no heat, a broken cooker, and about tuppence ha'penny left of her dearly departed husband's military pension, hacking and coughing as she chops up her last few sticks of furniture to burn in the soot-filled fireplace just to get enough hot water for the hot water bottle to put on her bad back, and what with having the electricity cut off last month, and taking in all the abandoned puppies and kittens off the street and giving them the last of her food, and the thunderstorm that flooded the--"

"Alright! Alright!" Relena shouted, bringing up her hands to shield her eyes from the unfortunate woman's portrait. "That's more than enough information, thank you."

"Yeah, well," Duo added, "I'd hope this household would show a little gratitude towards this woman. After all, she's the one who taught me everything she knew about cooking!" He saw how totally disarmed Relena was after all that, and felt quite proud of himself. Everything he said about Helen was true, it just didn't all happen at once or in the last two weeks, so techinically, he hadn't exactly lied.

Relena was humbled, but unflustered. "I am _very_ grateful that I have a competent chef working for me, however you are _not_ indispensable, and if there are any further acts of disrespect such as this, you may find yourself back in Peckham baking pies," she said forcefully. "Do we have an understanding, Mr. Maxwell?"

"Absolutely, m'lady," Duo answered with a grin. _Ha! Sucked in!_ "I guess I'd better get back to work then, huh?"

"Yes, _please,_" Relena said, her exasperation with the boy beginning to show. She vanished back up the stairs, and both Duo and Hilde sighed with relief.

Duo walked up quickly to the girl, putting the photograph away in his pocket. "Right, where is he?"

"In there," Hilde said, indicating the direction of the bedroom shared by the gardener and the stable boy, "but don't be too long, he's very weak."

Nodding, the chef went swiftly out the wooden door to the other half of the basement. Far above, he heard the faint clanging of the front doorbell chiming out 'Rule Britannia'. _That must be Heero coming back,_ he thought, _and not a moment too soon._ Steeling himself for what might be in the other room, he pushed Heero out of his mind and went ahead to check on the bedridden gardener.

**********  
  


With a strange sense of déjà vu, Heero stood on the front step of Bridlewood Manor with two suitcases and scowled at the ostentatious doorbell once again. Still, though he'd barely spent three months under its roof, the sprawling mansion felt faintly like home to him now, and on some level, he was glad to be back.

The door opened. "Oh, it's you. Back from yer 'olidays, eh? Well-rested, are we? Alright for some..."

No matter how deep he searched, Heero could find no level on which he was glad to see Elsie. He glared at the back of the woman's head as she walked away from the door in an unpleasant huff. As he carried his cases inside, he immediately heard the expected set of soft footfalls approaching, and saw their owner soon after.

"Heero, you're home!" Relena chirped as she half-ran, half-skipped into the front hall. "I got your postcard! Isn't it awful, what happened to the President? You must have been there the very same day it happened, you poor thing..." Involuntarily, perhaps, she reached forward and brushed a few earth-brown locks of hair away from the boy's face in a nurturing fashion.

Heero blinked at the strange action, then quickly changed the subject. "I brought you something," he said, setting his suitcases down and taking an object out of his coat pocket. Remembering Relena's instruction to bring her back a present, he had made time while in New York to shop for a trinket to keep her happy, although choosing what to buy had been a definite struggle. He pulled a black velvet box from his pocket and handed it to her silently.

Eyes bright with cheery anticipation, Relena took the box, opened it, and gasped at what was inside. Perched delicately on the little cushion of white satin was a golden charm in the shape of a swan, with a clear, sparkling stone for an eye and a fine gold chain, a kind of homage to the costume she wore on the night of the fancy dress ball. The tag bore the name of a high-class jeweller's on 5th Avenue.

"Oh, Heero," she breathed, "it's _beautiful..._I love it! Thank you!" She threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek, clutching the velvet box tightly.

That was unexpected. Heero stood there like a mortified statue with his employer draped all over him. He looked up, and at the other end of the great hall, standing just visbly in the doorway leading to the back of the house, was Duo. He was buttoning up his white chef's uniform and throwing a very dark look at the scene before him.

Relena let go of her butler and stepped back, smiling; Duo ducked out of sight to await her departure. "Well then," the girl cooed, patting Heero's arm, "I suppose you'd like to get settled back into your quarters before serving tea, so I'll let you get to it." She gave him another sweet smile and headed down the south corridor, tossing a twiddly little wave of her peaches and cream fingers over her shoulder as she did so.

Heero knew that he had to stay in Relena's good graces in order to keep a close eye on Treize, but this worried him. It especially worried him that Duo had seen the kiss, and hadn't looked pleased, and he wondered if the golden charm had been too extravagant a gift. As soon as Relena was gone, the chef popped out of his hiding place and marched towards Heero, who saw the boy's expression and expected some king of acidic and transparently sarcastic commentary on how little he cared who kissed his friends and who didn't. His suspicion didn't prepare him adequately for what Duo's words of wisdom actually were.

"Quat's been poisoned."

**********  
  


Heero spent a long time by Quatre's bedside while Duo took his suitcases back up to their room. While there was really nothing he could have done to prevent the attack, he still felt somewhat responsible just for having been away. Trowa waited with him until Quatre awoke from his much-needed sleep, then left the pair to talk for awhile; it was some time before the usual pleasantries took a back seat to more serious conversation.

"Dr. Poole's been taking good care of me," Quatre whispered weakly. "Hilde and Trowa have been wonderful too." He tugged a little at the covers but could barely budge them; though Trowa reported that the boy was out of immediate danger, the poison had already ravaged his system, leaving him feeble and exhausted.

Despite this, Heero had let him do most of the talking up to this point. He didn't see what good mere words could do Quatre now. "I regret not being here to help," he said finally.

Quatre smiled. He knew Heero blamed himself quite a bit more than that, but he didn't give away any clues that he could sense it. "It's alright. You're back...and Duo's back...everything's going to be fine now." He nestled his head back into the pillow and began to drift closer towards sleep. Heero did nothing to stop him.

The butler rose and went back to the kitchen where the others were waiting, seated around the heavy wooden worktable and looking sullen. When the big picture was taken into account, each of the four had a hand in letting the poison slip into Quatre's hands, and yet each of them was partly responsible for saving his life. Duo, Trowa and Hilde all looked up at Heero with guilty but grateful eyes.

Heero looked at each of them in turn; they seemed to be waiting for him to make some sense of it, to pull it all together and give them their confidence back. They wanted to protect their friend properly from now on; they were capable, but disorganized. They needed a leader.

Heero stood ramrod straight. "This is never going to happen again."

"But what can we do?" Trowa begged of him. "His family obviously knows where he is now!"

"He won't leave Bridlewood," Hilde added, "because he can't stand the thought of disappointing Miss Relena!"

Duo leaned back and folded his arms. "But we can't watch the guy 24/7! Trowa has to sleep _sometime_, and the rest of us all live on a different floor!"

Heero put both hands on the table and leaned forward. "We will find a way to make this work. Right now, he always has someone with him because he's still sick, but as soon as he's well again, the five of us are going to Arthur's cottage and hold a serious strategy session. We are _not_ going to let his sisters get the better of us."

The others seemed satisfied with this, and indeed they would have to be, for no sooner had the butler finished speaking than the doorbell rang, and they all realized that it was business as usual upstairs. Heero would be at the household's beck-and-call for the near future, so the strategy would have to wait.

The three seated servants nodded agreement at each other as Heero left, mulling over Quatre's situation as he walked up the stairs. He hadn't even had time to change clothes yet, so whoever it was would simply have to take him as is. _As if I needed more complications,_ he thought. _I should have known something unpleasant would hit me as soon as I walked in the door, but at least I'll have some time to think this afternoon._

He pulled open the door. There was a dark-haired visitor facing the street, wearing a sumptuous suit of red satin, embroidered in several places with lavish ornamentation. Upon hearing the door open, he turned around, already wearing a smug grin. "Good afternoon, sir. I'm here to see Lady Peacecraft, if you please."

Heero narrowed his eyes and let out a low growl. "Chang."

"You don't sound as if you had a nice holiday at all," Wufei said cynically.

Just as Heero was about to utter one of his well-rehearsed death threats, Relena's voice sailed in from the front parlour. "Heeeee~ro! Is that the decorators calling?"

Heero snapped his head around to glare in a horrified, shell-shocked way at the intruder. "_Decorators!?_" he whispered viciously.

Wufei shrugged. "If you've got it, flaunt it."

The stunned butler stood paralyzed as Wufei shoved past him into the foyer, looking around the room with broad, sweeping glances. Relena emerged from the parlour and was frozen to her spot, immediately impressed by the stylish young ponytailed gentleman the decorating firm had sent her. "Good afternoon," she ventured, smiling, "can I help you?"

Wufei seemed not to hear her, instead striding around the foyer, studying the architecture. "...marvelous example of the transition between Romanticism and Neo Renaissance...very free and natural use of space...and yet I see strong overtones of Garnier, almost making it a battle between order and beauty...simply marvellous..."

Heero rolled his eyes.

As the satin-clad boy strolled nearer to his hostess, he remembered his manners and extended both hands to her warmly. "Lady Peacecraft?"

Relena smiled, blushed, and met his hands with hers. "Yes, indeed! Forgive me if I've pulled you away from anything important today, but I'm so glad you could make it on such short notice!"

"Not at all, m'lady," he said gallantly. "My name, for your interest and curiosity, is Chang Wufei, and I have come to transform your bleak old-world rooms into exquisite, charming, _enviable_ treasures...much like yourself." He bent down and kissed one of her hands, and she giggled and squeaked with delight.

Heero folded his arms and leaned stiffly against the door.

"If your Ladyship would like to get started right away, we can have a look at these living spaces in such desperate need of emergency surgery." Wufei offered Relena his arm and she took it immediately, still blushing.

They started walking casually towards the drab north wing of the house; Relena paused and looked over her shoulder at the butler. "Heero, don't slouch. Go fetch tea and bring it to the north wing." Wufei smirked at Heero as she spoke, and the pair resumed their tour of the manor, already chatting up a storm.

Heero glared. He was beginning to strongly wish that he and Duo had stayed in America and quit their jobs by post.

Ignoring his sudden pounding headache, he went down to the kitchen, told Duo who was upstairs and why, told him to stay calm and not do anything rash, and collected tea and sandwiches for two. He walked up to the north wing like a zombie, already fairly sure why Wufei had weaselled his way into the house, but at the same time wanting to hear it from his own lips. He found them in a little-used drawing room with fairly ordinary carpeting, wallpaper, and decorations.

"Lilies and vines are _the_ look this year," the Chinese boy was saying. "Of course a much bolder colour scheme is needed, and most of these things...and the furniture...well, it _all_ has to go."

"Oh, I don't mind that, we can move it all to other rooms!" Relena turned long enough to indicate nonverbally that Heero should set the tea things down and pour two cups at once. "How long do you think it will take?"

"It rather depends," Wufei said, watching Heero carefully to make sure nothing lethal found its way into his teacup as he poured. "It would be helpful to establish a theme first, and I quite often prefer to create a space centered around a single piece of art. Tell me...do you have any 'Gauguin's?"

Relena looked aside as she ran through her mental catalog of the manor's many paintings and sculptures. "No, I'm afraid not."

"Any 'Toulouse-Lautrec's?"

"...uh-uh," the girl denied.

Wufei looked desperate. "A 'Seurat'?"

Relena bit her lip and shook her head guiltily. There had probably not been a single new piece of art added to Bridlewood's collection in forty years.

"Well, that settles it," Wufei declared, accepting his cup of tea from Heero with a wink. "We'll have to go shopping."

Relena received her tea deep in thought; suddenly, her eyes brightened as she got her second terrific idea of the day. "Why don't I have Heero take you up to the attic?" Heero froze. "There's scads of storage up there, and who knows, you might find something to your liking!"

Wufei turned to Heero with a wide smile. "Yes, let's!"

"Go on, Heero, show him the storage areas. You must have noticed them before, they're right by your room!"

If Heero's eyes were shotguns, his glare would have sheared Relena's head off. Naturally, she didn't notice as she turned to take one last look at the drawing room before it was transformed. Wufei set down the half-empty teacup and sauntered over to where Heero was standing, smiling that devious smile again. "Shall we go?"

"...hn. Right this way, sir."

The pair exited and spoke not a word to each other until they were all the way to the attic. At the top of the stairs, Heero judged that they were too far away to be heard by anyone if it came to a shouting match, or if he had to kill Wufei with his own bare hands, and was the first to speak. "Why are you here?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Wufei said nonchalantly. "I've been told to watch you, to see that you behave in a manner befitting an agent, and to make sure you don't fail his Lordship any more than you already have. Quite ironic, really, since I've wanted you to fail for months. Where's this storage room of yours?"

Still glaring, Heero walked briskly to a nearby storage area, carefully avoiding the one that held his secret wall safe. He could bet that it was secure against anyone in the house who might stumble across it, but he didn't know about another agent who had been trained at least as well as he had. "Don't evade the question. Tell me why you're _really_ here," he demanded, lighting a lantern and setting it on a stack of metal boxes.

"You think I'm going to cause some little 'accident' that will effectively end your career so I can replace you on the spot? What do you take me for, Yuy?" the other boy said, already perusing the contents of the storage room. "I've been ordered to _watch_ you, and watch you I will. Unlike yourself, I carry out my orders promptly, efficiently, and without question. The only reason you're standing this close to me right now and still breathing is that Lord Jeffrhyss ordered me not to harm you." He looked over his shoulder at Heero. ".....deliberately..."

Heero raised an eyebrow. _I'd like to see you try._ He leaned against the wall and watched his rival poke through crates of old, dusty paintings. "How much does he know about what happened in America?"

"Worried?" Wufei quipped with a smile. "I don't blame you. You should be worried. You failed the mission, got rid of a _very_ valuable weapon, and somehow 'lost' your fee. Your overall scorecard isn't looking too sunny right now." He picked up a statuette of a soldier on a horse, studied it for a moment, then put it back down. "You should be worried about what his Lordship has planned for you in the way of punishment...and I can safely promise you that it will be _far_ from pleasant."

"I already know how he operates," Heero growled, "so there's no point in trying to scare me."

Wufei smiled. "I know. But it would be fun to worry you. Fear comes and goes in waves. Worry gnaws at you constantly, never easing up, eroding your spirit and wearing down your mental defenses. _Then_ you'll make a mistake and get yourself killed, and _then_ I'll have this assignment. See how patience pays off?"

"Kindly tell his Lordship that I don't appreciate him sending a smart-mouthed lackey to check up on me."

"Tell him yourself," Wufei snapped matter-of-factly. "He'll be sending for you soon anyway. You should expect a summons in the days ahead, and then you'll have to face him and account for your disobedience, alone." He picked up a stack of selected pieces and started towards the door. "I'd sure hate to be you. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some _objets d'art_ to peruse."

Heero made no move to stop the conspirator as he walked haughtily past him and back down the stairs. Even though he couldn't see it, he felt sure the boy had looked in the opposite direction and spotted the bedroom with the open door, the bedroom with two well-travelled suitcases in it. Knowing that Wufei now knew where he slept was an uneasy feeling, and he decided to put a stout lock on the door at the next earliest opportunity.

As much as he didn't want to, Heero extinguished the lantern and headed downstairs after the boy. Relena probably would have no further need of him except to take the tea set away, but so long as Heero knew he was being watched, the only defense was to watch back, and that meant sticking to Wufei like glue.

**********  
  


In the second-floor study, the one that had belonged to Lord Peacecraft in his time, Count Khushrenada had barely budged since Relena came in with the newspaper. He didn't need to read it, for he already knew what it contained, and yet its words were swirling around in his brain as he fought hunger and fatigue to stay there until he had solved the puzzle.

He sat by the window, occasionally looking out at the mackerel-gray sky that had formed since lunch. In his left hand was his pipe, long since burned out without much use over the afternoon. In his right hand, perched on the side table, was a postcard written by Heero Yuy. He read it a dozen times over several hours, and kept looking at the postmark with frustrated eyes. He turned it over and over in his hand, balancing a corner on the edge of the table and sliding his fingers down it's smooth surface a hundred times or more. The mystery wouldn't get out of his mind.

_He was there. Yuy was there when the President was shot. But he did nothing. Did he back down from his orders? Did someone else get there first? Did he miss? Or was he merely sent there to watch the proceedings and report back?_

Treize liked the last option least of all, and his instincts told him that the possibility he detested the most was also most likely to be true. _His employer sent him across the ocean just to watch? What scheming, presumptuous, high-and-mighty devil is this?? If his master really sent him as an observer, what a demonstration of indifference that would be, as if the man is saying that all things are possible for him, but only if they be found interesting or amusing. What an ego!_ He disliked Heero's master even more strongly now, and he didn't even know his name. The idea that he would go to such trouble and expense just to show off that he _could_ have murdered the President was a self-righteous display of the highest degree.

Slightly stuff, Treize finally rose from his chair and stretched, setting the postcard on the table. _I can make demonstrations too,_ he decided, and with that thought to fuel him, he marched downstairs to make a very important call. This mysterious person who pulled Heero's strings was getting a little too puffed up for Treize's liking; something would have to be done to humble him, and the easiest outlet was Heero himself.

He rounded the corner coming off the grand staircase and walked down the hall, but was severely disappointed to see that the only telephone in the house was already in use. By Dorothy. He leaned gruffly over the girl, and she looked up at him innocently. "I need to contact someone. _Now,_" he insisted.

Dorothy held up her free hand and mouthed the words 'five more minutes', then shooed him back a few feet as he glared ineffectively at her. Numerous repetitions of admonishments to get the heck off the phone were useless, and Treize shuffled away to the front parlour in defeat. After a few minutes, however, he decided it was for the best, since he hadn't eaten in five hours, and rang for someone to bring him tea while he waited.

Back in the hall, Dorothy cradled the earpiece of the telephone and continued her hushed conversation, but only when she was sure nobody was listening. "They won't let anyone in to see him, but I heard them say he's not going to die."

"Good," a small, tinny female voice crackled through the earpiece. "But I'm not pleased at what's happened. Those greedy, grasping desert women could come back at any time. We need to get our claws into him _now_, not a year from now."

Dorothy almost nodded, but thought better of it. "I understand, m'lady. What do you suggest I do?"

The tinny voice paused, as if thinking on the other end of the phone line. "I have a few suggestions for you...of course you'll have to decide, but you should think carefully about how much you're willing to sacrifice for this money. I know you say we will share it equally, but I'm already quite wealthy, as you know, and you're living off Lady Peacecraft's generosity. Since I don't really need the money except to catch a man, the question becomes: How far are _you_ willing to go for the fortune of your dreams? How much are _you_ willing to sacrifice?"

Another pause. This time, Dorothy was thinking. Lady Une was quite right. She could survive very comfortably for years and years in her massive mansion; Dorothy was the one who really needed an infusion of cash, so naturally she'd be doing most of the hard work. She bit her lip. It was difficult, but acceptable. "Tell me your plans."

**********  
  


Just a little while before dinner, Duo's workspace was invaded by a very grouchy excuse for a butler, who stomped down the stairs and planted himself at the kitchen table, right where Duo needed to be to cook dinner. Never one to pass up an opportunity to make Heero smile, the chef walked slowly over to him, carrying a bowl of something dark brown and very gooey-looking. "So, how's the 'decorating' going?" he chirped.

Heero grunted and looked away.

"That good, huh?" Duo sat next to him and set the bowl down in front of them. "What happened?"

Heero scowled. "He sent me out of the room. Said I was disrupting his feng shui." He slouched as far as he could in the stiff wooden chair and glared at nothing.

"...his _what?_" Duo asked. "No, never mind, it doesn't matter. How long does he plan on staying?"

Heero rubbed his eyes. The headache was getting worse. "At least until he's redone one room and Relena decides whether to have him do more. Until then, he's staying in one of the guest rooms...at her invitation."

Duo leaned back and let the sheer scope of the problem wash over him. There was no question that Wufei wished serious harm upon Heero, so having him stay at Bridlewood was _not_ a good thing. "Oh man...it's exactly times like this you just wanna hide somewhere with a bowl of chocolate and forget your troubles, eh?" he said, pointing to the bowl with a slight grin.

Heero looked away again. "I don't eat chocolate."

"What, you mean never? Chocolate _is_ the greatest coping mechanism of the twentieth century, and I don't care that it's not even two years old yet." Duo thought for a moment. "You've never ever had chocolate before? I've made chocolate desserts here lots of times!"

"I don't eat dessert."

"You ate dessert my first night here, I know 'cause you told me yourself, so nyah."

Heero looked back at the chef. Sometimes he hated it when Duo was logical. "That was out of morbid curiosity."

"Fine, have it your own way," Duo groaned. He tipped the bowl up and drained the chocolatey goo into a square baking pan, scraping the batter out half-heartedly. "When you told me Wufei was here, I decided to make brownies. This is by far the best way to relieve tension and feel better, and I figured you needed that after this afternoon. Now take this and help me lick the bowl." He held out a spoon.

"I don't see what good it'll do," Heero said flatly.

Duo narrowed his eyes menacingly at his friend. "Shut up and do it." The spoon was snatched out of his hand with annoyance. Duo was probably the only person other than Sally Poole with the guts to take on a Heero in a bad mood. Slowly and carefully, Duo demonstrated how to scrape the residual fudgy brownie batter from the inside of the bowl and lick the spoon clean. Heero reluctantly followed his lead, but found the sticky substance to be actually quite good. After only one spoonful of chocolate, the ugly shadow lifted from his face, and he didn't seem to be in such a bad mood anymore.

"The problem with you," Duo mumbled in between bites, "is that you haven't even been back a day yet, and you already seem to have forgotten that we're in this together. Your problems are my problems, got it?"

Heero nodded quietly like a child, totally wrapped up in fudgy ecstasy.

Duo stopped eating and let Heero finish off what was left while he lectured him gently. "Okay, so this Wufei guy is out to get you. From what I heard him say before this mess got rolling, he's not too thrilled with _me_ at the moment either. We're in trouble together, and we're gonna deal with it together...that's sort of the whole point of being friends, see? So, I don't want you coming in here, moaning and groaning about how rotten it is when things don't go your way. I guess that's sorta my fault, since you had so much fun in the last two weeks that everything else is slave labour by comparison," Duo added with a grin. "So will you calm down and let me help you?"

Still savouring the chocolate batter even though it was gone, Heero nodded humbly, his headache rapidly fading. He decided that Duo and chocolate were equally nice, but when combined, they had the power to ease his pain and soothe his spirit. He felt better. "Thank you."

Duo draped an arm around Heero's shoulders and smiled. "What are friends for?" He got up and popped the brownies into the waiting warm oven, then returned to the table. "There's still half a dozen jars of food left in the pantry, wanna pick out something for dinner tonight? You can have anything you want as long as it's soup..."

Heero looked up and faintly smiled for the first time since his return. They rose as one and went hunting and pecking for something to eat that night, once again confident in each other and their partnership. It was going to be a trial having to wait on Wufei hand and foot while he looked down on them both, plotting and scheming...but together, they could handle it.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


> _Next, in Episode Twenty: Dorothy decides to take action towards capturing Quatre and his money as her own, and she seems not to care what she sacrifices in the process. Wufei causes disruption in the everyday running of the manor, and an unexpected but happy event causes surprise and confusion for the servants sleeping in the attic._

Alrighty...I'm going to try REALLY hard not to let two delays in a row turn into three delays in a row. I just HAD to waste Friday shopping for wedge-heel shoes to go with my lime green skirt, didn't I? =~_~= How was I to know my bro was gonna spill Coke on my keyboard! Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, this is the face of an innocent Mitsugi! =o_o= Well, sorta innocent. I'm marking down Episode 20 for September 30th, and I'll be ding-donged if I'm gonna let THAT one be late too. =^-^= Ja ne!


	20. Animal House

Ahh, half-hour late....rats. Oh well. This is a very jumpy episode, meaning it jumps quickly from one idea to the next, so watch carefully. =^_~= It also carries warnings for slight lime, a psychotic Dorothy, and small-scale childbirth.

Disclaimer: It seems that children everywhere are conning their parents into thinking that a laptop and a cell phone are now required elements of back-to-school shopping. I tried to convince my mother that a matching set of five Gundam pilots were necessary items for back-to-FFN-shopping, but she didn't fall for it. =¬_¬= Darnit, ma...

**Suggested Font: Times New Roman**  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Twenty: Animal House

> _"Cats rule, dogs drool." ~Me. =^_^=_

September 30th, 1901

Heero had an unusually difficult time waking up, probably because he was unusually fatigued from the night before. Dorothy had been almost criminally happy about something, and kept him awake until all hours bringing bottle after bottle of raspberry cordial to her in the den, where she entertained Relena by the fire until they were both falling over drunk.

Strange sounds were tickling at the edge of his consciousness as he lay there, but they were no competition compared to the assumption that her Ladyship would be out for the count a lot longer, and so Heero slept in fairly late. After a long, restful snooze, the strange sounds returned, only they were a little bit louder and a lot more numerous. The few brain cells he had that were still functioning were of the impression that it sounded like someone giggling. Heero called forth his will to wake up, and very slowly opened his eyes.

"Sh, sh, he's awake!" someone whispered. The voice had a certain Duo-ness to it.

As Heero's groggy head cleared and his vision gradually came back into focus, he turned his head and became aware of two extra people in the room besides himself and Duo. The others were Hilde and Quatre, both fighting to hide huge grins and faintly sputtering as they tried unsuccessfully to keep their giggles in check.

Duo hushed them again and smiled too-innocently at Heero. "Sleep well? You weren't..." A giggle erupted from Duo's throat and he quickly swallowed it. "...cold or anything, were you?"

The other two started snickering again. Heero was too puzzled to glare properly and just stared sleepily at the pair enjoying their little laughing fit. A bit at a time, he became more aware of a strange sense of pressure in the center of his chest. On the cusp of his peripheral vision was a fuzzy white blob.

Without warning, the blob meowed.

Heero was fully awake instantaneously, and looked straight up into the furry face of Anna-Maria, Dorothy's precious little angel of a pussycat. The others laughed even harder at Heero's dumbfounded expression.

"I...hee hee...I'm sorry, Heero," Duo gasped between giggles, dropping to his knees next to the bed, "the door was shut all night, so I dunno how she got in but...darnit, you two looked so cute together, I just had to get these two up here to see it."

The cat flicked the tip of her tail in agreement and re-tucked her front paws underneath her, snuggled warmly in the folds of Heero's green pajama top.

"He's right, you know," Hilde chimed in, "this is an awfully cute picture! I wouldn't have missed it for the world!"

"It was _definitely_ worth four flights of stairs," Quatre added, leaning against Hilde slightly. He was still fairly weak after his poisoning ordeal, but at least he wasn't bedridden anymore.

"Hn. Very funny. Now, get her off me, please." Heero didn't have much experience with animals, but he thought the cat was extraordinarily heavy for a ball of white fluff.

"Sure, sure," Duo said, snickering. He stood up and reached for the cat, but before his hands got too near her, she flattened her ears against her head and growled. Duo hesitated, wondering what was wrong, then tried again. "C'mon, kitty, fun's over, time to go back downstairs..."

His hand barely brushed the cat's fur and she started hissing at him. Duo jumped back with a yelp. "What's her problem!?"

"You're just not being forceful enough," Hilde declared, shifting Quatre's weight to the writing desk. "When dealing with animals, you've got to show them who's boss!" She strode forward, grasped Anna-Maria about the middle, and pulled hard. The cat gave a screech and tensed up all four legs at once, startling Hilde enough that she let go immediately. Heero yelped this time, in surprise as well as pain, uttering a long torrent of spiteful-sounding Japanese that probably contained some impressive curses. He winced and glared at the affronting feline.

"What's the matter?"

"She dug her claws into me, that's what the matter!!"

Hilde backed away. "Oh dear..."

Anna-Maria brought her front paws back out and kneaded the pajama fabric closest to Heero's throat, and his glare mysteriously vanished. Even though he knew she couldn't do him any life-threatening harm, there was something rather intimidating about having so many sharp, pointy objects so close to his face. Reason told him to simply reach up and throw the fuzzball off him, but he only had to skim the top surface of her coat with his hands and she tensed up again, narrowing her eyes at him and letting out a low, guttural growl wholly intended to be a threat.

"Gosh, she really doesn't want to move, does she?" Quatre observed, not sounding the least bit worried.

Duo stepped in before Heero could snap at the boy for stating the bleeding obvious. "Okay, let's none of us start panicking. Can we, like...coax her off with some catnip or tunafish or something?"

Quatre snapped his fingers, apparently discovering a good idea in the back of his brain. "Somebody go get Trowa! He's good with animals, I bet he can figure out what's bothering her!"

"Right!" Duo flew out the door and down the stairs.

"Poor thing," Hilde said sadly, "she must be really disturbed about something. Let's try and be quiet so we don't startle her."

Quatre nodded. "Don't make eye contact with her either, it might only make her feel worse."

Heero frowned. "I'm glad you're both so concerned about upsetting the cat!" he barked from underneath the heavy animal.

The others blushed and endeavoured to hide more tittering laughter. Heero was normally a very imposing presence, but being stuck flat on his back with an angry cat sitting on him was most disarming, and his ferocious glares only made the pair more giddy.

Two voices and two sets of footsteps came clamouring up the stairs and before long, Duo had returned with Trowa in tow. The stable lad looked a bit rosy-cheeked, as if he'd already burst into laughter upon hearing the news. He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked Heero over with a slight smirk. "So, she doesn't want to get down off you, hm?" he observed.

"Oh, she's _very_ adamant about it," Hilde offered, "she's even been hissing and clawing! Watch this!" She reached forward to try and pick the cat up as she did before.

"He doesn't need a demonstration!" Heero snapped, not relishing the thought of being clawed again.

Hilde jumped back as if Heero had reached out and slapped her. She put her hands on her hips and frowned boldly at him. "Oh, grow up! Anna-Maria can't _really_ hurt you!"

"I am _trying_ not to lose my temper, otherwise I may end up hurting _her_ instead," the butler spat through gritted teeth.

Duo flung his hands up facing the others. "Okay, everybody chill. Leave him alone."

They all took one giant step away from Heero.

"Lemmie see if I can find out what's wrong," Trowa said calmly. He crouched down and crept towards Anna-Maria, who pondered him curiously, whiskers twitching briskly. He reached out a hand and let her sniff it, and in turn she let him scratch her behind the ears. Reaching out again with his mind instead, he studied her glossy eyes for awhile until his own eyes widened and he sat back on his heels. "She doesn't want you, Heero, she wants your spot."

Heero stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. Nobody spoke until Duo grinned devilishly and piped up, "Hey, it's gotta be a nice warm spot by now, who wouldn't want it?" He received Hilde's elbow sharply between his ribs for the effort.

Finally, the butler found his voice. "I don't care. She can _have_ it if she wants, just get her off me peacefully so I can get dressed and go to work. I'm already late."

Trowa raised both eyebrows and nodded, focusing on the cat once again. She was licking her left front paw and not paying attention to anything until the boy started staring at her intensely. He projected strong feelings of deference and compliance, exactly what any cat would expect from its human toys. She twitched and looked at him, ears pricked up attentively, then slowly got up and slunk off of Heero's chest to nestle in the covers between him and the wall.

Everyone sighed with relief, except Heero, who sprang off the bed, brushing cat hairs off his pajamas and muttering under his breath. While he went to fish his suit out of the wardrobe, the others all huddled around his bed, praising Anna-Maria for being such a good kitty in the end, and patting her head lovingly. Heero stared at the farce for a moment, then rolled his eyes.

"You'd better hope she doesn't get too comfy, or you won't have a place to sleep tonight!" Duo chirped at him jokingly.

"Hn..." Heero looked at the cat. The cat looked back at him and flicked her tail once or twice. _Don't count on it,_ he thought before leaving to change clothes.

**********  
  


While parts of the north wing were seldom used, other areas were frequently visited by her Ladyship and the housemaids, creating a fairly regular flow of traffic in, out, and around the rooms where Wufei was working. For the last several days, however, that whole section of the ground floor had been strangely quiet. The interior decorator, in his infinite wisdom, roped off a large chunk of the wing so that no one could get in or out to see his work.

Relena questioned this at first, but Wufei convinced her that he needed to be alone with the space in order to bond with it. She believed him. In actuality, he wanted to be left alone to avoid Count Khushrenada, not to mention to snoop around.

On his very first day working on the drab little drawing room, Wufei was pleasantly surprised to find that the wall between that room and the modest games room next to it, the wall with the fireplace, was nearly three feet thick and completely hollow. Seeing as how the paint and wallpaper were going to be replaced anyway, he had no qualms about ripping the wall open immediately.

The space inside the wall was empty, and more than big enough for Wufei to fit entirely inside. The very next day, he ordered a set of ornately carved mahogany panels, enough to cover the wall on either side of the fireplace. One panel he altered and set on hinges, so that by pressing a secret switch that only he would know about, he could unlock the panel and slip into the secret passage he had created. He performed similar work on the games room so that he could easily travel from one room to the other without anyone outside noticing.

On this day, he was putting the finishing touches on the other panels to make sure the one with the secret switch didn't stand out as being different. _This should come in extremely handy,_ he thought smugly. _Sooner or later, Treize will be alone in one of these rooms. Then, I'll make use of this passage...sneak in one way, do what's necessary, and go back the way I came. No suspects, no witnesses, no problem._

He stood just inside the hidden panel door and practised the arm motion of throwing a swift, silent dagger to see exactly how far he'd have to step out of his hiding place. He envisioned the invisible dagger sailing across the room and hitting its target, preferably in the chest rather than the back, so that the target could see who had vanquished him and know why. _Mission complete._

Wufei smirked. _My mission, at least. Jeffrhyss will be disappointed, but Heero's likely to get the blame, and then I can retire with dignity and a clean service record._ He stepped out of the passage into the drawing room, brushed the sawdust off his hands, and patted himself on the back for his ingenuity.

**********  
  


Dorothy shivered and drew her woolen shawl closer about her shoulders as the crouched behind a hedge in the back garden. The air was downright chilly and it was clouding up fast; England was showing it's true colours at last, and the Baroness was beginning to miss her own little sun-soaked estate on the Italian Riviera.

She had decided to try implementing one of Lady Une's more outlandish suggestions for getting her paws on Quatre's money, but she didn't much care for the way the tall boy who kept the horses was constantly hanging around the young heir, making it impossible for her to have a quiet word alone with him. She had to distract the boy first.

The girl spotted him, working with the old carpenter, just outside the door to the cellar, several yards from the kitchen door. She had made it as far out as the hedge maze without being seen and looked back one more time before scampering out back to the stables.

Entering the main stable which held Relena's two fine coach horses was difficult until Dorothy figured out the door was a 'push' and not a 'pull', but once inside she found the items she had hoped would be there--a generous supply of crisp, dry hay, and at least one large metal bucket. Unfortunately, to do what she had to do, she had to _touch_ them.

Dorothy wrinkled her nose when she got a whiff of the horses. _Ugh! How awful! Oh, I wish I had some of my own servants here to do this for me!_ Swallowing her pride while holding her nose, she picked up one of the metal buckets, set it down near the horses, but not _too_ near, and filled it thickly with hay.

Next, she took a box of matches out of a hidden pocket in her dress which she had swiped from the kitchen at the same time as fetching an aspirin for her hangover. Lifting the matches while the chef wasn't looking was easy...actually using them was a bit harder. Every time she struck one of the frail wooden sticks against the side of the carton, there was a little puff of smoke and perhaps a spark or two, but nothing more.

_Confounded things! I must have seen Heero use these a dozen times last week...why won't they work for me!?_

A kind of weak, burnt odour was drifting around the spot where she stood, from all the failed attempts to light a match, any match. The horses picked up the scent and reacted nervously, snorting and whinnying in their wooden stalls.

"Oh, save your breath," Dorothy snapped. Frustrated, she pulled yet another match from the box and gave it another try.

**********  
  


Bundled up in two extra layers of clothes, Trowa and Arthur glanced up at the clouds periodically as they pulled the wilted remains of some frost-bitten flowers out of a flowerbed. They both had a good sense of London's weather patterns, and dressed appropriately, sensing a storm was on the horizon, but that was the extent of the attention they paid it. There were more pressing problems afoot.

"Have ye thought about emmigratin' to Nova Scotia? You an' Quatre?" Arthur suggested as he poked around the weeds in the flowerbed with a hand trowel.

Trowa shook his head. "He'll only leave as a last resort, and besides, since I came here illegally in the first place, it'll be that much harder for me to get a legal passport. If he decided to leave the country, I'd have to break the law again to go with him, and he wouldn't want me to do that. If it weren't for--"

The boy froze in place and tilted his head slightly. After a few seconds, he looked at Arthur. "Did you hear that?"

Arthur stopped working and listened carefully to the autumn breeze. Carried lightly on the wind was a strange sound, a combination of thumps, bangs, and low-pitched, wavering squeals. The noises were terribly familiar and not very happy. "Th' horses!"

"I'll go on ahead," Trowa said quickly. He dropped his tools and sprinted away towards the stables. Arthur, not being as agile as he used to be, got up and jogged ploddingly after him. Neither of them had time to notice that Hilde watched them leave from the laundry room window, wondering what could be such an emergency.

The brunette maid wove back through the kitchen and stepped outside, instantly rubbing her arms from the cold. Trowa was a speck on the horizon. _Gee, I hope nothing's wrong, _she thought. Just as she was about to go back inside, she spotted a slim figure wrapped in a woolen shawl, walking slowly towards the house while looking over its shoulder every few steps. _The Baroness...I wonder if she knows what's going on._

Hilde would have called out to the blonde woman and asked, except that before she had a chance, Dorothy suddenly darted forward and slipped through the door leading to Quatre and Trowa's room. _Huh. Maybe he asked her to keep an eye on Quat for a minute. Yeah, that must be it._ Hilde shoved her remaining curiosity aside in favour of going back indoors where it was warm. She went back to the laundry room, picked up a stack of linens, and headed for the west stairs, confident that everything was being taken care of.

**********  
  


Trowa made it to the stable in record time. As he got closer, he started to panic as he saw puffs of thick black smoke billowing out of the wooden building. He threw open the door and was pushed back by a plume of hot smoke that stung his eyes and forced him into a coughing fit.

The horses were whinnying loudly, spooked by the sudden appearance of flames and smoke in their peaceful domain. Trowa could feel their fear. Dropping to his hands and knees, he crawled through the stable towards them, finding some breathable air near the dirt floor. He sensed a heat source in the center of the floor and decided the fire must be there, but the hazy atmosphere obscured it.

He reached the horses and found they were both alive, but terribly agitated. Dragging himself to a standing position, he grabbed what felt like a heavy blanket and began madly flapping it in front of him, blowing some of the smoke away from his frightened charges.

With much effort, he was able to clear enough of the smoke to see the source, a metal bucket with flames jumping about above the rim. While it was still just clear enough to see, he fumbled for a pitchfork, nudged one of its tines under the bucket handle, and lifted it carefully off the ground. He saw that there were no other fires anywhere else in the stable and ran the bucket outside, dropping it on the gravel path leading to the coach house.

As Trowa leaned forward with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath, Arthur jogged up carrying another bucket with drops of water sloshing over the side. He had seen the smoke and made a detour to his cottage for the water, but slowed down and stopped in front of the flaming bucket, staring at it incredulously. "Is that all it was!?"

"That's it," Trowa gasped. He sat down on the grass and coughed the rest of the smoke out of his system as Arthur used the contents of the second bucket to extinguish the first. "Bloody daft people!" the Scotsman griped, "must've come o'er th' fence or summat...you'd think they'd 'ave bett'r things to do!"

Trowa just sat there, thinking. Somehow, this didn't feel like a random practical joke to him, but he couldn't draw a line between the fire and Quatre's sisters either. It just didn't compute.

**********  
  


After spending so many days sick in bed, Quatre was desperate for a sense of accomplishment, but he was still too weak for outdoor duties. With a bit of cajoling, he convinced Doris to give him some dusting to do, just to feel useful, but he was assigned the north end of the main floor, and every time he went to a particular room to dust it, he found one of Wufei's rope barricades blocking his path.

Eventually, he got tired of not being able to get anything done there either, gave up, and decided to go back to his room to read until lunchtime. He walked very calmly through the kitchen, said hello to Duo, who was just coming back from a supply run to the pantry, and went to his room. Stretching comfortably, he sat cross-legged on his bed facing away from the door.

It was then that he heard the door swing shut and a key turn in the lock.

**********  
  


Balancing her stack of sheets and pillowcases, Hilde climbed the west stairs to the servants' quarters with the care and agility she always displayed. Her regular routine was to stack the fresh linens in the linen closet and see to the rooms themselves. Not long after she was hired, Hilde volunteered to look after Duo and Heero's room, for reasons which she kept strictly to herself. Elsie was more than happy to let her have the extra work, even though it meant Hilde had to clean the housemaids' room as well by default; the girl honestly didn't mind and never complained.

Her routine was going exactly as planned until a peculiar sound tickled her ears while she stood in front of the linen closet. There was a tiny squeaking noise coming from the boys' bedroom. Hilde froze. _Mice!!_ she thought instantly. Ice water ran through her veins, and many other young girls would have screamed and flown down the stairs as if the world were coming to an end.

Hilde, however, was a ridiculously curious person and had to see for herself. She quietly shut the closet door and crept towards the bedroom, expecting to be bowled over by a stampede of startled mice looking for their next cheese fix.

She opened the bedroom door. It wasn't mice.

Hilde gasped and ran downstairs as fast as her legs could carry her.

**********  
  


Quatre cautiously turned around, expecting to see one of his sisters wielding a knife. "Good morning," the visitor cooed pleasantly. It was Baroness Catalonia; not one of his immediate family, but Quatre didn't want to sigh with relief quiet yet. "Feeling better?"

The gardener stood on the other side of his bed, strategically keeping at least one piece of furniture between them. What he was sensing from Dorothy wasn't pretty. "Much better, thank you."

Dorothy stepped away from the door, turning the dor key over and over in her thin fingers. "I wanted to have a quiet word with you alone, but for some reason the other residents won't _leave_ you alone. This has led me to take extraordinary measures." She tugged the collar of her dress forward and dropped the key down the front of it, lodging it in a place from which Quatre wouldn't dare try to retrieve it.

Quatre swallowed. With a predatory smile, Dorothy began prowling towards him. "Uh...begging your pardon, m'lady, but I've been away from the gardens for too long. I really ought to get back to work." He turned and walked briskly to the other door that led outside, but a sharp and fruitless turn of the handle showed that it, too, had been locked.

Dorothy said nothing, only clasped her hands behind her back and smiled that evil smile as she skulked closer and closer to the boy. Quatre sidled nervously to the window, but couldn't see Trowa anywhere. He swallowed again, getting the distinct impression that he had been set up.

**********  
  


Upstairs in one of the fine parlours Relena had decided weren't in need of redecorating, Doris was putting the finishing touches on an arrangement of fresh flowers that had been plucked out of the garden before the frost hit. The gray-haired lady stepped back from the coffee table and smiled at her work. It was nice to have a bit of living colour in the house before winter drained all the warm, beautiful hues from the world.

As she admired the vase full of bright blooms, there was a sudden, rapid banging a few rooms away as someone ran down the stairs from the attic at a tremendous speed. Doris thought nothing about it at first, but then heard shouting coming from the general direction of the kitchen. She walked out into the hall and strained to hear it.

"What are we supposed to do? Do we boil water, bring clean towels, open all the windows, what!?"

"How should I know!? Just do _something_!!"

Within moments, two sets of footsteps came crashing up the stairs and away from the kitchen. Doris almost went back inside the parlour, and would have, if not for the sight of Hilde and Duo looking wild-eyed and running straight toward her.

At that precise moment, Elsie was stationed several rooms away, rubbing furniture polish into the sideboard. The polishing cloth, which began its work at a furious pace, started moving slower and slower as Elsie started to hear three voices shouting in the distance.

"Oh good heavens! Boil some water! Fetch the clean towels! Open all the windows!"

"Somebody's got to go back up there! We need more hands!"

"Quick! Who else is hanging around at this hour!?"

The voices carried with them a feeling of urgency that clearly suggested that something was wrong. Elsie stood up straight and wrung the polishing cloth in both hands. Slightly worried, she poked her head out into the hall just in time to see Hilde, Duo, and Doris running towards her at full gallop.

While that was going on, Bethany was at the top of the grand main staircase, taking her own polishing cloth to the second floor railings. For the last five minutes, she kept hearing the oddest noises coming from downstairs, but so long as nobody was yelling at her, she decided it was none of her concern. She considered running for cover when the voices grew nearer.

"Of all bleedin' times for this to 'appen! Ain't animals got no consideration whatsoever!?"

"Oh yeah, I'm sure you'll be _really_ inconvenienced!"

"It's not her fault, it's just nature, that's all!"

"Don't make difficulties, Els, we have to round everyone up!"

By then, it was too late to escape. The last thing Bethany saw before the world turned upside down was a delegation consisting of Hilde, Duo, Doris, and Elsie flying up the stairs towards her.

**********  
  


Trowa and Arthur checked over every bit of the land in a hundred-foot radius around the stable, but found nothing unusual. The fire was out, the culprit was gone, and there seemed to be no further danger, so there was really nothing to be done about it. Arthur took his empty bucket back to the cottage to fetch some cool water for the horses to drink, and Trowa started walking back towards the house; he wished he had the guilty party to show Relena, but she still needed to be told.

_This just doesn't seem like the work of Quat's family,_ he thought as he hiked across the back yard. _What could possibly be gained by scaring the horses? They could have choked to death, even though whoever did this didn't mean to burn down the stable...I'll have to get the veterinarian in..._

His train of thought was derailed by the sight of someone jogging through the gardens to meet him. _That's Bethany...why is she running out this way? Maybe Relena saw the smoke and sent her to investigate._ He kept his walk slow and his composure calm to give the housemaid the truthful impression that there was no longer any cause for alarm.

Little did he know that there was a full supply of alarms waiting for him back at the house.

**********  
  


Dorothy wasn't letting the ruckus upstairs distract her from her mission in the slightest. "What's the matter? Aren't you glad to see me? I thought we were _friends_..." The emphasis she put on the word 'friends' sent a chill up Quatre's spine. "People are supposed to visit the sick, aren't they? I just wanted to see how you were..."

Quatre was still at the window, jiggling the sash to see if he could jump out of it, but no luck. "Well, uh...you've seen me, so you can go back to whatever you were doing."

The girl chuckled and walked a little more forcefully towards him. "Oh _no_, I couldn't leave you here alone, it isn't safe at all! You need someone on guard in case of a mad sister attack, don't you?" She reached the window and started backing him up towards the wall.

"How did you find out about that!?" Quatre gasped.

"Does it really matter, my sweet?" Dorothy purred. "All you should be concerned with is letting me protect you. You must realize you're not safe here anymore, and Lady Une's offer of employment still stands, in fact she'd take you in for as long as you liked since she found out your very life is in danger!" Quatre backed up straight into the wall and cringed like a frightened animal, prompting Dorothy to lean in close and run a hand through his hair to soothe his nerves. "Don't be so jittery, dearest, I only want to help you."

"You want to help yourself," Quatre spat. He had known about her intense greed for some time, and had fearfully wondered what form her insurrection would take. "You and Lady Une are probably in on it together. Go ahead, tell me if I'm wrong!"

Dorothy raised an eyebrow, thought, then winked. "You're right...but see it from my point of view. You have a whole army of fiendish relatives after you, and they'll stop at nothing to see you dead. If we protect you, we're working against their interests, and that makes us a target too. Should we really be expected to risk our own lives trying to save yours and get nothing in return?"

"That's extortion!!" the boy shouted.

Dorothy paused and delicately sniffed the air around Quatre's face, a scant few inches away from hers. "What _is_ that heavenly aroma?" She nudged closer, pressing her belly into his and his back into the wall, and ran a hand up the front of his shirt. "Ahhh, yes...I recognize that scent...I can smell _money_ on you, Quatre, and your sisters can smell it too. It'll lead them right to your front door if you don't get out of here. Do you really want them to win?" The hand wove into his hair and back down the side of his face.

Quatre shivered involuntarily. It made him extremely nervous having Dorothy plastered all over him, but he couldn't find the strength to push her away. It had taken all his energy to walk back from the north wing unassisted. "M'lady...please, this isn't--"

"Look at me, Quatre," she ordered, grabbing him gently but firmly by the top of his waistcoat, "I am not a woman to be trifled with, and if I intend to have a claim on your fortune, have a claim on it I will!"

Before the startled boy could ask how she intended to rewrite his father's will to include her own name, she pulled him roughly away from the wall and back towards his bed. She flung the weakened boy down onto his own mattress and sat on him, straddling his hips and pinning his arms down as he tried vainly to free himself. "What are you doing!? Get off!" he hollered at full volume. Weak though he was, the mild-mannered gardener had quite a set of lungs on him when he needed them most.

Dorothy latched onto both of his wrists with only one hand and held them down onto his chest; she was surprisingly strong, given her cushy upbringing. "Even if you do get the money, I know you wouldn't be foolish enough to give it away, so I need a little insurance policy. If you had a son, then he would naturally be the one to inherit your infinite riches should anything...unsavoury happen to you." To Quatre's horror, she started tugging at his belt buckle with her free hand. "First you inherit your father's fortune, then your first son is born, then you meet with an unfortunate accident, Lady Une and I split the winnings, and I go back to Italy a wealthy widow with a bouncing baby boy. Sounds nice, doesn't it?"

"_You're crazy!_" he shouted nervously. "You can make me do...well, you just _can't!_"

Dorothy gave him a crafty smile as she untucked her petticoats from between them, letting her sit very closely and strategically on top of his squirming form. "Can't I? You're a man, aren't you?" She leaned in close and brushed her lips against his throat, pushing her hips into his. Quatre let out a weak little moan as the dizzying sensations shot liquid fire through his bloodstream. "I can make any man do anything I want," Dorothy hissed.

Looking genuinely angry for the first time in ages, Quatre growled and tried to wrench his hands out of her strong grip. He freed one hand momentarily and actually took a swing at her, but she subdued him again, then quickly moved on to pulling his shirt out of his waistband. "Quit that! This wouldn't be so difficult if you'd just relax a little!"

"NO! You can't make me do this! I won't co-operate! Trowa! Duo! Somebody!!"

Dorothy plunged close to his ear and whispered harshly, tightening her grip on his wrists. "If anyone _does_ come, they won't be able to get in, remember? And even if they do manage it somehow, I'll just say that you were trying to force me. I can whip up a batch of tears in about two seconds, and then who are they going to believe?"

Quatre cringed, then struggled some more, but his movements only increased the burning hot sensations she inflicted upon him. Horrified, he could feel his own rebellious body betraying him, giving in to the girl's insidious wishes and responding in earnest to her touch. He whimpered faintly, and as soon as Dorothy saw that her actions were starting to take the desired effect, she planted an enticing kiss firmly on his quivering lips, silently coaxing him to relax and enjoy what was to come.

Something snapped in the boy at that moment, for his face suddenly turned into a dark mask of hideous anger that nobody was likely to have seen on him before. He stared venomously at his captor and gritted his teeth as she rose a few inches and looked down at him sweetly. "Get....off...._NOW_."

Dorothy scowled. "You miserable little peasant..."

A stern rapping came at the window, and Dorothy jumped and twisted around at the waist. Wide-eyed with shock at being caught, she saw Bethany at the window trying to get her attention. "What do you think _you're_ looking at!?" she howled.

"M'sorry, yer Ladyship, but it's Anna-Maria!" the maid's muffled voice said through the pane of glass. "She's upstairs 'aving kittens!"

The sound of Dorothy's jaw hitting the floor created ripples in the Pacific Ocean around New Zealand.

"Come quick!" Bethany continued. "She's 'ad two of 'em already!" The girl either didn't see Quatre's lower half sticking out from under Dorothy's dress or didn't see it as anything to be worried about compared to the kittens. The Baroness let go of Quatre's wrists and climbed clumsily off him in a flash, dragging him off the bed and sending him tumbling to the floor, where he landed flat on his back with a thud. Dorothy unlocked the interior door, dropped the key, and ran out, forgetting all about her original mission.

It was suddenly quiet in the room. Quatre had only the intense pain in his back to keep him company, and he laid there, partially-dressed and sweating profusely, staring up at the ceiling as he collected his thoughts. ".....I handled that nicely....."

**********  
  


Heero could remember having much more productive mornings that this. First he got up late, then he had to bring Relena tonic water and an aspirin, and helping her figure out how to swallow pills had taken up the better part of an hour. He somehow guessed that teaching her to ride a unicycle would have been simpler.

Now there was some kind of a ruckus travelling around the house, encompassing at least five or six people who were running about in all directions, up and down from the kitchen to the main floor, up and down the west stairs, shouting and carrying on like the house was burning down. They were all getting on his nerves so badly that he hid in the dining room and went back to polishing the silver even though it had a perfect shine already, just to focus on something and retain his sanity.

"There's no more clean towels left!"

"I've put a second kettle on!"

"Are we supposed to sterilize something!?"

Heero resolved to practice his meditation techniques more often, because they weren't working; he couldn't block out the yelling and running around, and at the same time, some tiny part of his brain was hideously curious to know what all the fuss was about. He scowled down at the silverware and practically tried to polish the engraved pattern off.

Some distance away, near the front hall, Count Khushrenada was having a similar problem trying to have a conversation on the telephone in the middle of the riot. He had the earpiece of the phone to one ear, and his hand clamped over the other, but every time he made contact with the other end of the line, someone would run past calling out for Miss Dorothy, and he'd lose his concentration.

"Yes, I'm sorry, there's some problems at this end," he spoke into the phone. "You may remember doing some work for me some time ago...you do? Good, because I have need of you again. There's a certain young man I want to--"

"Miss Dorothy! Where are you!? _It's an emergency!!_"

"Someone call the vet! What if something goes wrong and we can't do anything to help!?"

"I found Miss Dorothy! She was down in th' cellar!"

Cowering in the sitting room with the curtains closed and her head laid down on the table was Relena, sporting an impressive headache and wondering when the crashes of lightning would stop raging through her skull. All the yelling outside wasn't helping either. She vaguely remembered that it was her house and if something strange was happening, she should be present to witness it, but at the moment she couldn't will herself to drag her sickly figure out of its chair. Finally, however, it got to be too much and she had to get up and at least tell her staff to yell a little more quietly. She staggered out of the chair and padded gently to the door.

"I demand that you call the police this instant!! I demand to know whose animal is responsible for this...this _travesty!_ My poor defenceless little Anna-Maria! I want a full investigation! Money is no object! Get Scotland Yard down here right now, and Interpol too, while you're at it! I want _justice!!_"

Treize glared into the phone. "Would you excuse me a moment?" He set the ear piece down and walked towards the back of the house.

The last voice was also the last straw for Heero, and he slapped down his work and stormed out into the hall. Relena emerged from the sitting room at that very instant, as did Treize, and without noticing each other, they all fixed a steely gaze at a mob of half a dozen servants, plus Dorothy, standing in the hall squabbling amongst themselves.

"What's going on out here!?" the trio yelled in unison.

Dorothy looked furious. The housemaids looked a bit blank, but panicky, except for Hilde who started giggling again. Duo giggled with her. Just at the right moment, Trowa came down the stairs and met up with them. "She's just had the third, and there's more on the way," he said breathlessly.

Relena winced at the bright sunlight streaming in from all sides and brought a hand to her temple as she walked dizzily towards Trowa. "What is it?" she whispered.

"Anna-Maria's having kittens, m'lady."

Heero went pale.

Relena forgot her headache and squealed with delight, and all the women except Dorothy joined her in bouncing up and down, giggling about the new arrivals. Dorothy eyed them all with distaste, wondering what was so bloody marvellous about her precious angel being violated in such a lower-class manner. The mob moved as one up the stairs to the attic, leaving Heero and Treize alone in the hall looking a bit lost. Treize glanced over at his diminutive nemesis, raised a noncommittal eyebrow, and retreated to the front hall to finish his phone call.

Heero felt a bit nauseated all of a sudden. If he'd known this was what the cat wanted his bed for, he wouldn't have given it up so easily. He leaned against the wall, rubbed his eyes, sighed deeply, and went back to the dining room to do some more polishing. He really didn't want to go back to his room just yet.

**********  
  


Space was at a premium in Duo and Heero's room, and the miraculous event taking place could have been billed as standing room only. The housemaids all gathered in a little cluster at the foot of Heero's bed, while Relena and Dorothy stood near the middle. Relena had an arm around her friend and was patting her hand comfortingly as she lamented of her cat's predicament.

"Can you give her something for the pain?" Dorothy sniffled.

Trowa rolled his eyes. "She doesn't need anything for the pain. This sort of thing has been happening to cats for thousands of years, all without the aid of anaesthesia," he said dryly. He was crouched beside the bed, exactly where he had been before, wondering how he could have missed something so obvious about Anna-Maria's condition. He could only imagine the fierce glares he'd be receiving from a certain butler for weeks to come on account of that little screw-up. He stood up. "Alright, there's really no need for everyone to be in here, so go find something else to do until it's over. If you stand there staring at her, you'll only make her nervous."

The housemaids groaned, but left obediently; in actuality, the cat looked quite content, but Trowa was the resident animal expert, so his word was law. Dorothy also looked like she wanted to leave, moaning about how she couldn't stand watching her baby in such agony anymore, so Relena took her downstairs to wait for the final kitten count. That left Duo, who had been sitting on his own bed the entire time, thinking.

"So what happens now?" he asked.

Trowa shrugged. "They'll nurse for awhile, then they'll start crawling, then walking and playing, then they can be adopted."

"No no, I mean what happens _tonight_?"

The stable boy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Well, there's no way Heero can stay here tonight, or for the next few weeks. They shouldn't be moved unless absolutely necessary, so he'll have to find somewhere else to crash."

Duo thought for a bit. "Uh huh."

"Is there another room up here somewhere?"

"....oh, don't worry about it!" Duo reassured him, "I'll get him fixed up, no problem." He smiled.

Trowa stared at him with his arms folded. "Uh huh."

Duo stared back. "What're you looking at me like _that_ for? Go on, get back to your patient!"

Shaking his head with a sigh, Trowa turned back to the bed and observed Anna-Maria's progress. She was nuzzling and licking her kittens, which seemed to be very energetic; they wiggled around and hid under the sheets so much that he had a hard time telling if there were six of them or seven. _As soon as I'm sure they're alright, I'll have to get Quatre up here. He'd love to see this._ He looked up. "...Quatre..." Realizing he'd left the boy alone for a long time after he'd promised not to, he suddenly felt the urge to rush downstairs. "Look after them for a sec, will you?" he asked the chef.

Duo nodded, and the taller boy left in rather a hurry.

**********  
  


Treize made a point of wrapping up his phone call as quickly as possible before someone he didn't want overhearing snuck up behind him without being noticed. Especially since the phone call was about the exact person who might have snuck up behind him without being noticed. "I need him taken care of, quickly and quietly. I want to send an unmistakable message to his employer. Meet me in front of the Parliament buildings and we'll discuss the details." That was the extent of the conversation.

Afterwards, he went back up to his private study to think. Even though the room was adorned with reminders of Lord Peacecraft's ghostly presence, most of the household had come to think of the room as belonging to Treize now, and didn't dispute his right to treat it as his own. He sat in his usual chair, lit one of Lord Peacecraft's fine cigars, and entranced himself in deep thought.

_What a pity you'll soon be leaving us, Mr. Yuy. Relena will be most disappointed, but I'm sure she'll recover in the fullness of time._

**********  
  


The second half of the day wasn't nearly as exciting as the first. Quatre tidied himself up and, after seeing the kittens and fawning over them excitedly, went back out into the garden to bring some semblance of order back into his life. He was waiting for the right moment to tell Trowa what almost happened to him in their room, as was Trowa waiting for the right moment to tell Quatre what almost happened to the horses. They acted as if nothing was wrong because for the time being, that's exactly how they needed it to be.

Dorothy called the police, but they refused to send an officer out for such a trivial matter. After calling the desk clerk every name under the sun, she stomped out into the street, grabbed the first wandering constable she saw, dragged him inside and forced him to take down the details of Anna-Maria's misfortune. He was a surprisingly good sport about it.

As for Heero, at the end of the day he found himself standing beside his bed, looking down at his new family. He was there for a full ten minutes before Anna-Maria acknowledged his presence, and even then she only favoured him with a self-satisfied stare.

_You got what you wanted,_ he thought. As if reading his mind, the cat licked her chops in response.

"Aren't they cute?"

Heero turned to see Duo standing in the doorway, already in his black pajamas, rebraiding his hair. The butler shrugged. "They're just animals."

"Yeah, but they're cute widdle itty bitty baby animals!" Duo brushed past him and crouched by the bed, running a finger over the tiny head of one of the kittens. "Look, they're all different colours too! I wonder who the daddy cat was...see, there's a white one, and a caramel one with white splotches, and a brown one...look at this charcoal one! It knows I'm here!" The chef grinned as a charcoal-grey kitten mewed and sniffed Duo's hand eagerly.

Heero suppressed a sigh and went to the tiny window. Raindrops were pounding against the glass in the darkness, and it matched his mood perfectly. He was still wearing his suit, evidence that there was still a serious issue to be resolved.

"So, have you thought about where you're going to sleep tonight?" Duo asked, not looking up from the kittens. It seemed that Anna-Maria wasn't the only mind-reader in the room.

"Not really." Heero had deliberately avoided mentioning to Relena that he had nowhere to lay his head for fear that she might invite him into her own room; naturally he would have refused, but just being asked would have been uncomfortable. Also, since she hadn't offered him one of the guest rooms in the interim, he assumed that it never clicked in the girl's head that having a new family of cats in one's bed meant that one couldn't use it.

Duo kept looking down at the tiny felines, worried that if he looked up at Heero instead while making his next suggestion, he'd turn red in the face like one of Quatre's prize roses. "You know if you're stuck.....you can always.....uh...." He coughed a few times and cleared his throat, unaware that Heero was now staring at the side of his face, which was indeed a little darker than before. "What I mean is, I don't want you to have to sleep on the floor, I'd feel terrible if you.....well....heh." He swallowed. "You can bunk up with me if you want. Room to spare..." _There. I said it. Prepare to be rendered unconscious by a flying kick to the head. Five, four, three, two..._

Silence. Mustering a mountain of courage, Duo looked up and saw that Heero didn't look insulted or angry, just....blank. _Well? Don't just do something, stand there!_ he thought sarcastically.

Heero shrugged again, slowly. "I suppose I'd better." Resigned to the situation, he fetched his own nightclothes out of the chest of drawers and left the room to change, like always.

Duo blinked, looked back and forth between the door and his bed, checked his own pulse, and grinned. Saying a quick goodnight to the kittens, he hopped into bed and scooted well over to the side nearest the wall, leaving plenty of room for his guest, and settled in to appear as though he was already quite close to sleep. A minute later, Heero returned, took one last look at the pack of wild intruders, turned out the lantern, and dutifully took his place on the unoccupied side of the bed. As he saw it, life was a war, the manor was the army, and he would do as he was told by the quartermaster. Now wasn't the time to be picky about one's accommodations.

They spoke not a word to each other that night. Heero was asleep almost instantly, and as soon as Duo was sure that his friend was well and truly out, he propped himself up on one elbow and just looked at him for awhile. A tiny amount of moonlight made it through the rainstorm into their room, enough that he could make out the boy's features. He might have stayed that way for an hour or more, he couldn't be sure...but eventually sleep caught up with him as well, and when it did, it was the warmest, most comforting sleep he had ever enjoyed, the first through which he wasn't alone.

Sometime during the night, though, an even odder thing took place. Heero awoke for no reason at all and couldn't get back to sleep. Shifting position didn't help, meditation didn't help, he was wide awake and couldn't understand why. The truly odd thing occurred when he propped himself up on one elbow and stared at Duo--he couldn't fathom why he did it then, and wouldn't be able to fathom it for a long time to come, but after looking the sleeping boy over for a little while, he nestled back down next to his friend in a phenominally relaxed state, and was lulled back to sleep easily.

On the other side of the room, Anna-Maria and her kittens slept just as peacefully.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


> _Next, in Episode Twenty-One: Treize wants to send a message to Heero's master, but this time the messenger is a professional and won't be easily scared. Quatre become tired of being so weak, and resolves to better himself for his own benefit, as well as Trowa's, while Duo and Heero adjust to having guests in their room._

Relena got drunk! AHAHAHAHA!!...oh wait, we missed it. Darn. I'll get her drunk again someday, I promise. A lot happened here today, and it's going to have long-lasting effects, so be watching out in the coming weeks! Next episode will be out on October 9th! =^_^=


	21. Certain Conditioned Responses

This episode turned out to be longer than I expected, but hey, it's on time, so you won't see me complaining about the amount of typing! =^_~= It also carries slight warnings for **violence, mild language, and slightly adult-ish themes.** Go to it.

Disclaimer: It seems that children everywhere are conning their parents into thinking that a laptop and a cell phone are now required elements of back-to-school shopping. I tried to convince my mother that a matching set of five Gundam pilots were necessary items for back-to-FFN-shopping, but she didn't fall for it. =¬_¬= Darnit, ma...

**Suggested Font: Times New Roman**  
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Episode Twenty-One: Certain Conditioned Responses

> _"This is the first punishment, that by the verdict of his own heart no guilty man is acquitted." ~Juvenal_

October 9th, 1901

The days were growing shorter as winter approached, and the sky grew a little bit darker each morning when the servants arose to do their work. Even so, it was just light enough to read an alarm clock at 5:30 am, and to look up and see frost on one's bedroom window; this was all Heero was capable of, given his very unusual situation, which he pondered for the third morning in a row. Having just awoken, he glanced over at his old bed, now home to Anna-Maria and her kittens, all of whom were sleeping comfortably, and was surprised that he wasn't more envious of them. In fact, the transition to sharing sleeping quarters with Duo had been relatively easy.

He knew for a fact that Duo was sleeping extremely comfortably, as evidenced by the odd position he'd taken up while unconscious, also for the third morning in a row. Duo began each night lying well away from Heero, but sometime around two in the morning, he started to scoot closer to him in his sleep until by four-thirty, he was snuggled up quite close to Heero's side with his face nestled into the other boy's shoulder. Eventually, it woke Heero up and he realized what was going on, but he couldn't decide on a course of action. Three months previous, he would have smacked Duo upside the head, called him at least three kinds of idiot, and as a last resort, glared at him until he volunteered to take the floor instead. Now, Heero wasn't sure if he wanted that.

_Of course, this is only the third morning I've noticed. He might have been doing this all week and I just didn't realize it._ He looked down at his shoulder and saw the tousled chestnut head right where it had been the two mornings previous. _If Lord Jeffrhyss could see me now, he'd have ten thousand fits,_ Heero thought, positive that his master would disapprove of their friendship, however deep.

Duo stirred; Heero froze, opting to use the tactic that had worked twice before, lie still and let Duo think he was still asleep. Invariably, the chef would wake up, gently uncoil himself from his partner, and bashfully retreat to his own side of the bed, but for now he simply muttered something to someone in his dream and settled back down. Heero let out his held breath and looked up at the window, at the thick layer of frost that had accumulated during the night, and then back down at Duo. Having slept alone his entire life, this took some adjusting to, but Heero's practical nature pointed out that while it was just a notch above freezing outdoors, his entire left side was toasty warm thanks to Duo being draped all over it, so it must have been a good thing.

Some time later, as the sun began brightening the morning sky, Duo stirred again, this time for keeps. Heero remained still and quiet, pretending to be asleep, and sure enough, Duo realized where he was and quickly removed himself from Heero's person, shimmying down to the foot of the bed. He got up and padded across the wooden floor, glancing at Heero and then turning his attention to the kittens.

"Rise and shine, campers," he whispered to them sleepily. A couple of the kittens were wiggling around, but the rest were asleep, including their mother. "Hey, c'mon guys, Sally said to keep you warm. Quit throwing the covers off, will ya?" Duo tucked their blanket in a little closer around the pack and started to shuffle out to the bathroom. Pausing, he looked over his shoulder at Heero again, sighing gratefully to see that he wasn't aware of anything. It was the most wonderful thing in the world to wake up next to his best friend, but he was terrified that if Heero caught him snuggling up, the other boy would be spooked by it and their partnership would end. _Can't hardly blame him...I gotta stop doing that._

As he heard Duo quietly slip away, Heero slowly opened one eye, then the other. He was unpleasantly cold all of a sudden. There was really nothing to stay in bed for now; like most of the rest of the household, Heero sat up, rubbed his tired eyes, and contemplated getting up to start the day.

**********  
  


Dorothy found it very difficult to be pleasant, given the harsh treatment she was suddenly receiving from some of the staff. She rang for an early cup of coffee and forty-five minutes went by before anyone came, and when Heero finally brought the coffee to her, it was stone cold. Then she wanted to take a shower before breakfast, but there was a mysterious absence of fresh towels in her ensuite bathroom, and she had to call for Hilde three times before the girl answered; even then, the one towel she received was stiff, scratchy, and smelled of moth balls.

Wondering if the entire staff had gone on some sort of strike, she made a mental note to discuss their efficiency with Relena at breakfast. She joined her Ladyship in the conservatory as usual, though they would soon have to move their morning meals further indoors, as the chilly weather was beginning to make the glass-enclosed room at the back of the house cold and inhospitable.

"Good morning, Dorothy!" Relena sang, chipper as always. "Sleep well?"

Dorothy scowled in a ladylike manner. "No. Something in my room smells like horses, and I don't know what it is."

Relena looked up, surprised at the complaint. "Oh dear! I'll have to have someone look into that." She fell off the subject entirely as she heard the clattering wheels of the dinner cart rolling down the hall, undoubtedly with their breakfast on it. A moment later, Heero appeared with the silver cart and began setting the table for their meal.

"If your people can't find out where the smell is coming from, I shall have to ask to be moved to another room, because the atmosphere in there is absolutely horrid!" the Baroness whined.

Heero fought not to flinch at that statement as he set out the covered plates and other assorted breakfast table accoutrements. When Trowa had suggested in a secret staff caucus that he hide a smokey old horse blanket from the singed stables under Dorothy's bed as a form of silent comeuppance, nobody had protested; in fact, there was much giggling and snickering throughout the land.

"Oh, of _course_. Heero," Relena said regally, "the Baroness is having a problem with her guest suite. Something about an odd smell. Will you look into it for me, please?" She flashed her sweet-as-golden-syrup smile.

The butler quickly finished setting out the breakfast things before answering. "As you wish, m'lady." He would keep his word, naturally; all he had to do was look at the horse blanket, note it's location, and walk away. Relena said nothing about fixing the problem. With that self-satisfying thought, he swivelled the cart around and wheeled it out of the room.

"There you are, Dorothy, everything's under control," Relena said cheerily as she uncovered her breakfast.

Dorothy looked at her with whimpering eyes; somehow, the Baroness wasn't quite so sure. Shaking off a layer of suspicion, she took the silvery domed cover off her own plate and looked over the contents, then frowned in distaste. She looked over at Relena's plate and saw a beautifully laid-out meal of scrambled eggs, crisp bacon, French toast with powdered sugar and strawberry jam on the side, and a slice of some exotic melon, proof of Duo's constant struggle for aesthetic perfection in his cuisine. On her own plate was the same food, only in a state of disarray that suggested that someone was juggling with her plate between the kitchen and the conservatory. The toast was in the eggs, the jam spilled onto the cold, soggy bacon, and the melon looked and smelled as if it had been dropped into frying pan full of stale grease. Not at all up to scratch.

Dorothy sat back with a superior air and looked menacingly down at her plate. The servants were turning against her, now she was sure of it. Relena was already stuck into her scrambled eggs and toast and really wasn't paying attention until Dorothy stood and picked up her plate, balancing it on her right hand at eye-level.

"What's wrong?" Relena asked through a mouthful of bacon.

"Will you excuse me a moment?" Dorothy replied curtly. She walked elegantly out of the room carrying her plate and headed for the kitchen, determined to find out why she was being black-balled by the staff all of a sudden. Sailing down the stairs, the first people she saw in the kitchen area were Heero and Hilde, stacking clean dishes in a tall wooden cabinet. Looking past them as they only half-glanced up from their work, she spotted Duo standing at the kitchen table, already chopping vegetables for dinner. With a meat cleaver.

One step below seething, Dorothy marched to the kitchen table and held out the plate of disorganized food. "And what do you call _this!?_"

Duo paused his chopping motion and looked at the haphazard breakfast innocently. "Performance art?"

"It's disgusting! It's not even edible!" the girl shouted. "I demand that you take this putrid, mangled excuse for a meal back and fix me a proper breakfast, right now!!"

The chef cradled the cleaver's handle with both hands, gasped dramatically, and looked sympathetic. "How careless of me! Just put it down there and I'll get to it in a minute, okay?" He gestured to a spot right in front of the cutting board with the cleaver and went back to his chopping.

Dorothy blinked, unable to tell if she was being casually dismissed or not. Hesitantly, she reached forward to set the plate down by the cutting board while Duo hacked away mercilessly at a carrot. At the exact moment when Dorothy's hand was closest to the cutting board, Duo swung the cleaver up high and brought it down hard into the tabletop with a loud thunk, barely missing her fingers. The girl gave a short screech and jumped away, clutching her endangered hand with wild, startled eyes and gasping breaths.

Duo's gaze slowly lifted up from the cleaver to Dorothy's powder-pale face. His brow lowered evilly and he wore a smile that was miles beyond devious and halfway to satanic. "Oops."

Dorothy staggered back, hyperventilating. She looked desperately across the room at Heero and Hilde. "Did you _see_ that!?"

Heero shrugged. "See what?"

"Sorry, I wasn't looking," Hilde said.

Dorothy squeaked. It was becoming evident that she was most unwelcome in the presence of the servants. If she had taken the time to really think about it, she might have connected this to her shameful treatment of Quatre several days earlier, but as it was, her adrenaline was out of control and she couldn't think of anything but making a quick escape. Throwing frightened rabbit glances all over the room, she backed up as far as the west stairs, then turned around and ran up to the main floor.

Hilde walked over to the kitchen table, annoyed. "She's got some nerve, showing her face down here!"

"If she does that again, we're having lady fingers in Devon cream for dessert," Duo growled with a note of sarcasm.

"I wouldn't suggest damaging her permanently," Heero scolded with the tiniest of smirks. "For Quatre's sake, letting her know that we control a significant portion of her comfort and happiness is enough for now...but we'll also have to pull double shifts guarding him."

Duo nodded. "I'm ready."

"Me too," Hilde agreed. It would be long, hard work now that there were forces already inside the house that wished harm upon the gentle gardener, but he had been a good friend to each one of them, and not one of the servants involved could turn their back.

**********  
  


Several days earlier, Trowa realized that all was not well with his fair-haired friend, and he began working on Quatre to tell him what was wrong. When the truth about Dorothy's actions came out, Quatre practically had to sit right on top of the hot-tempered Latin boy to keep him from storming upstairs and dislocating a few of her teeth. By then, Trowa could also put the pieces together regarding the horses, and since he couldn't keep a secret from Quatre for all the tea in China, he had to tell him.

Now, more than a week since the incidents, they were still absolutely fuming with rage, but running to Relena and making wild, unbelievable accusations would get them nowhere. The intense frustration at being so helpless in the face of such treachery led them to bolt the door to the bedroom and work off the tension in a more constructive manner. They sat at a rickety round table with two sour expressions, venting their anger on a pack of cards rather than each other.

After the first few hands of rummy, Trowa had calmed down, but his opponent seemed to get angrier and angrier the more he ranted about his situation. "How did I end up like this? It's not as if I've ever done anything to anyone that would even _remotely_ merit this sort of treatment, have I?" He drew a seven and discarded a Jack.

Trowa shook his head. "I know. None of this is your fault, and something needs to be done, but there's no way Relena will believe our word over Dorothy's. We just have to find a peaceful way around it, that's all." He picked up the Jack, set down a group of three Jacks, and discarded a two.

"But it's not fair!" Quatre yowled. "If I do nothing, Dorothy will think she can have her own way whenever she wants! And Lady Une is in on it too, you know. How can lowly servants like us compete against the likes of them?" He drew a Queen, discarded a five, and slapped down three sets of cards. "Gin."

Trowa looked at the cards, added 20 points to Quatre's score and dealt another hand. "We've got Heero on our side, remember? He's smarter than both of them put together. He'll figure something out for us." He drew a nine and discarded an Ace.

"It just makes me so mad. I'm tired of being weak. I'm tired of being taken advantage of." Quatre drew a three and discarded a King with such force that he nearly bent one of the corners.

"I know..." Trowa said in a soothing voice, trying to calm him down. He picked up the King and laid down the Jack, Queen and King of spades, then discarded a six.

"Why am I always the one that gets picked on!? It was the same back home, exactly the same! I didn't stand a chance, being the youngest and smallest of such a huge family...I never got my way and I always had to do what the group wanted. I've been controlled by women my whole life!" Quatre picked up the six and slapped down another three sets of cards angrily, discarding a ten. "Gin."

Trowa looked at his own cards, looked at the cards on the table, blinked, and added another 20 points to an already crammed-full scorecard. He realized just then that the angrier Quatre got, the better a card player he became. The thought occurred to him that if they took Dorothy to Monte Carlo and let her off her leash, Quatre would be livid nine-tenths of the time and just might clean up at the Blackjack table. He quashed the thought quickly and dealt another hand. "Calm down..."

"I _am_ calm!" Quatre hollered as he watched Trowa set down a group of three sevens. "If I weren't calm, I'd be throwing things! And that's another thing, why does everybody expect me to be perfectly pleasant all the time!? Aren't I allowed to get upset about anything!?" Trowa discarded the eight of diamonds, but before his hand even made it back to the rest of his cards, Quatre snatched up the eight and smacked down two large runs of diamonds and clubs, discarding a two. "Gin."

Trowa's free hand stopped in mid-air. This was getting scary.

Quatre set his elbow on the table, leaned his chin on his hand and looked away. "I don't know, maybe I'm overreacting, but I don't think I should stand for this. If I'm a pitiful weakling, I've got nobody to blame but myself. There's got to be _something_ I can do..." He trailed off and stared into space, thinking intently.

Uneasy about what direction the gardener's thoughts might be taking, Trowa tapped the deck of cards into a neat pile and set them in front of Quatre. "It's, um....your deal this time..."

Quatre slapped the table with one hand, making the cards jump. "Fencing!"

Trowa blinked. There was only one fence around the property; what did he plan to do to it, and why would that help? "Beg your pardon?"

"Back home when I was little, I used to play with swords!" Quatre proclaimed triumphantly, turning to face Trowa again. "When Rashid saw me taking an interest, he and my other guards took it in turns to teach me some fencing moves, y'know, just for a few laughs. Nobody ever thought I'd really _need_ to pick up a sword in order to defend myself, not even me! But I'll bet if you and I worked on those old skills of mine, we could improve them! What do you say?"

Trowa folded his arms and thought. It was a sound idea on many levels, but he couldn't imagine Quatre carrying a sword around with him all day to do the gardens. On the other hand, it was getting colder outside and soon most of the yard work would be finished for the season, then he would be relegated to more indoor work than outdoor. It was actually feasible to just keep a sword in the room with him, wherever he happened to be. Trowa slowly smiled. "That _is_ a pretty good idea, actually."

"You really think so?" Quatre squealed. Without waiting for an answer, he leapt out of his chair, grabbed Trowa's wrist and started yanking him towards the door. "This is great! Nobody's going to have Quatre Winner to push around anymore! C'mon, I know where we can get some fencing foils!" In a flash, the boys were out of the room and heading upstairs on a peculiar adventure that Dorothy and Une weren't going to like one bit.

**********  
  


Treize and Dorothy were keeping a low profile in the house, for a variety of reasons, and they took lunch together in the Count's private study on the second floor. Each thought the other was becoming distracted from their original purpose, the real reason they came to Bridlewood, but they also understood each other's secretive natures, and knew that discovering the cause of their distractions would be next to impossible. Still, they continued to peer suspiciously at each other over their tea and scones.

"And where's Relena this afternoon?" Treize asked cordially.

"Overseeing the decorators," Dorothy replied with no small amount of distaste. "Sooner her than me. I despise workmen..."

Treize raised one of his peculiar forked eyebrows. "Is that why you're in here hiding?"

Dorothy blinked innocently. "Hiding? I don't know _what_ you mean!" she admonished him, sipping her tea delicately. "And what about you, hmm? How long have we been here? Two months or more? What have _you_ accomplished to earn the right to sit up here and stare out the window all day? Unless you're holding out on me, you haven't found any of the things you were looking for. Go on, deny if you must!"

"I can hardly conduct my...investigation while her Ladyship is still living here," Treize said, surprisingly calm. "Convince her to go on holiday and take most of the staff with her. Then I might 'discover' something while she's away. Until then, I have other matters to attend to."

Outwardly indignant but inwardly humbled, Dorothy let the subject drop, knowing far better than to challenge the man while he appeared to have a plan in place. All was serene again until a faint clanging drifted up from the main floor--the telephone.

They both looked up at the sound. Dorothy hoped it was Lady Une returning her rather irate calls at long last. Ever since the plan to capture Quatre on a fundemental level had fallen through, badly, the crafty brunette seemed to be avoiding her. Treize simply looked at his pocketwatch and smiled, knowing that his lunch would go undisturbed.

The call was for Heero. Downstairs in the main hall, Bethany set the earpiece down and went to fetch the butler with moderate haste, and soon a very suspicious lad was walking slowly towards the elegant Chippendale table on which the phone was perched. Very few people outside the house even knew he was there, and Lord Jeffrhyss always communicated through written word or live messenger, so the call was a bit of a mystery. Not knowing what to expect, Heero picked up the earpiece and the receiver, and began the conversation.

"Yes?"

A long pause. "You wish for information about Khushrenada?" A man's voice, very well articulated, but with a thick middle-European accent. Completely unfamiliar.

Heero hid mild curiosity under a coldly indifferent tone. "Perhaps."

"We should talk," the tinny voice said through the ear piece. "Tonight. I have much information to share about the Count and his...business dealings."

The butler rolled his eyes slightly. _Oh please. Next he'll be telling me to meet him at the docks and to come alone._ Heero wasn't buying it, but decided to humour the man. "Go on."

"Meet me at St. Catherine Docks near the Red Lion Brewery," the voice said, "and come alone. After dark, if you please." Then the phone went dead.

Heero gave the earpiece a sour look, then put the phone down with a clunk, wishing that Treize wouldn't try so hard to be so juvenile. With no intention of going through with the meeting, he walked swiftly away and went back to his work. _Treize must think I'll swallow anything._

**********  
  


After showing off his fuzzy little neighbours to Arthur, Duo led the carpenter back downstairs and poured him a cup of tea. "Aren't they the cutest?" he crowed enthusiastically, handing over a mugful of the steaming hot brew with a smile.

"Aye," Arthur consented, amused at the boy's excitement. "Pity it had to happen where it did."

Duo poured himself some tea and shrugged, hoping that his delight at the new sleeping arrangements didn't show. "We're coping." He took a sip and decided to take brief advantage of Arthur's age and wisdom. "Why do you think Anna-Maria picked Heero's bed in the first place? I'd've thought she'd be a lot happier in a box next to the furnace. I mean, it's starting to get _cold_ in that room of ours! Will they be okay?"

"Oh, ah 'spect so," the Scotsman said, "wi' animals, it's all in what they're used to. Wha'ever they grew up with, that's what they seek out in adulthood. 'Tis the same wi' people, really." He poked the air between them to punctuate his remarks. "Put any livin' thing, man or beast, in an environment they're not comfortable with, an' they'll either reject it or change it to suit. Anna-Maria might've been born under the same circumstances, so that's what she's comfortable with. It's all in what you're used to."

Duo nodded, but as soon as Arthur turned away and started roaming the kitchen with his tea, he looked dreadfully forlorn. _Am I making Heero uncomfortable? If I am, one of us will end up leaving that room. I really don't want that, but judging from what Artie says, it's unavoidable..._

"Still, the cat knows what she's doing," the carpenter continued as he walked to the back door. "If it gets too chilly for her brood, she'll let you know in _no_ uncertain terms, and then you'll 'ave to..." Arthur trailed off strangely as he saw something odd through the kitchen window. "Aw heck, what's all this now?"

Duo dashed to the window over the washbasin and gazed out at what appeared to be a swordfight between Trowa and Quatre, in the back yard next to the patio. Each wielded a fencing foil scavenged from an oak display case in the den, and were weaving back and forth across an invisible line, blades clinking together hesitantly several times with every step.

"It looks like a real bloodmatch!" Arthur chuckled warmly. "Ah'd bett'r go referee 'em."

As the carpenter sauntered outside with his tea, Duo looked a second and a third timd, but still couldn't believe it. Two of the most docile, peace-loving creatures he had ever met were out on the back lawn having a fencing match. Duo was slowly learning to accept anything odd that happened in or around the house as normal activity. He blinked and turned away, then froze with a start.

Heero was suddenly in his field of vision. The butler had crept down the stairs silently and must have been waiting for Arthur to leave, Duo thought. He looked as if he had something of grave importance to say. "Well, let's have it," Duo declared, sticking his hands in his pockets, "what does Her Royal Releness think my punishment should be for annoying Dorothy?"

Heero shook his head slightly and pointed to a chair. "Sit down." Duo raised an eyebrow, but obeyed without question, taking a chair at the kitchen table. Heero sat next to him, and they scooted their chairs around to face each other instead of the table. "I've had a telephone call from someone claiming to have information about Treize."

Duo's remaining eyebrow lifted to join the other one. "Oh yeah?"

"Don't get too excited," Heero said with another shake of his head, "I strongly suspect it's a trap. It was painfully obvious and smacked of Treize's over-confidence. One of his cronies expects to meet me at the docks after dark tonight, and I was inclined not to go at all."

Duo nodded. "Good." He started to get up and go back to preparing dinner, then paused and sat back down. Heero didn't move, as if expecting him to have something more to say on the matter. "Wait a minute...what do you mean, 'was' inclined?"

"The more I thought about it, the more I realized what a rare opportunity this could be." Heero leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, anxious to pitch his idea perfectly. "This person will probably be lying in wait around the docks and try to leap out and surprise me, but if I could capture him instead, and force whatever information he might have out of him, it could go a long way towards furthering my mission."

Duo leaned back, looking dubious. "I don't like this..."

"I understand your apprehension, but this man couldn't have picked a worse place to try and ambush me in. I spent months training around those docks at night, in all sorts of lighting and weather conditions, and I'd easily go so far to say that I know the terrain better than any lackey of Treize's," Heero insisted. "I might even know them better than _you_."

Duo sat up in his chair. "Forget it, I'm coming with you, obviously!"

"No."

"Don't be a brat, Heero! Let me help you!" Duo yelled. He quickly checked himself and lowered his voice in case there was anyone about listening to them. "I don't want you walking into a trap by yourself, even if you know it's there. Remember what happened the last time you thought you had a potential ambush under control?"

"Treize tried thugs, and it didn't work. He's not going to waste time using the same flawed tactic," Heero pointed out. "Most likely, it will only be one person, a professional this time."

"Oh, and that's supposed to make me feel better?" Duo scoffed.

"...Duo-nezu, listen to me..." Heero leaned in close and put a hand on the other boy's shoulder. "I'm a professional too, remember? And I won't be travelling unarmed. I know you want to be there to make sure I'm alright, but you don't know how to defend yourself, and I can't battle properly if I have to worry about protecting you. If this man were to somehow get ahold of you first, he'd have a hostage, and I'd have to give him whatever he wanted to keep you safe. If you stay here, I'd have a lot less to worry about." Duo looked down at the floor for awhile, then nodded sadly, knowing it was true. Heero took his hand back and straightened up, encouraging Duo to be brave and do the same. "I also have a small mission for you while I'm gone."

Duo's expression brightened considerably. "Really?"

"I want you to get inside the area where Wufei is working and find out anything you can about what he's up to," Heero said. "I haven't had the chance ever since he arrived, and I don't like knowing that he's probably planning something that I can't see because of my obligations to Relena."

"You can count on me!" Duo declared cheerily, saluting.

Heero nodded and stood up. "I'll be leaving after dinner."

"Yeah, okay..." Duo stood and hesitated a moment. They both seemed to be waiting for the other to do or say something, but neither knew exactly what. Duo had a mountain of confidence in his friend, but something about this whole deal felt bad to him. Nevertheless, this time the little brown mouse was determined to follow his orders and make his teacher proud of him. Before the moment got away from them too quickly, Duo took a timid step forward and swept his arms around Heero, hugging him tightly. "Be careful."

Hesitantly, Heero used his left arm to lightly return the gesture. "I'm always careful."

They broke apart and looked at each other for a few extra seconds, like a younger brother sending the older one off to join the war. Finally, Duo's smile fell back into place. "Well, go get ready for dinner then. Relena won't like it if you're out back doing target practice instead of serving whatever it is I'm feeding her tonight. Haven't exactly decided, but I hope for Dorothy's sake that she'll be willing to share, 'cause Dot won't like what _she's_ getting!" He grinned proudly at his own deviousness.

Heero shone a small portion of the grin back at his friend, then turned and went back upstairs meditate for awhile. If he was really going to meet an agent on par with his own abilities as he expected, he didn't have long to prepare.

**********  
  


Well after sunset, Heero was prowling around dockland as planned, remembering clearly the countless nights he had spent lurking about and being chased by Lord Jeffrhyss' common labourers as a training exercise. He had undergone a long series of seek-and-destroy simulations which were partly used to gauge his progress, and at the end of the sessions he had achieved a stunning 98% success rate.

_If my training hadn't ended so early, I might have pushed it to 100%,_ Heero thought bitterly.

As he neared the Red Lion Brewery, all was quiet. Most of the workers had gone home for the night, leaving a few evening staff and the expected hidden element of robbers and ruffians that always populated the shadows, only showing themselves when it was opportune to do so. Heero expected no trouble or interference from any of them, as they would never approach a fight as a third party unless they heard the sound of coins falling to the ground and clinking aganst the wet cobbles.

The moon was partly hidden by fast-moving clouds, and a high wind was kicking up the freezing, salt-drenched air around him. The last time he had visited under such conditions was months ago, but he remembered well what he had learned about stalking prey amongst swirling winds and along slippery streets. Already he could feel eyes watching him, but few of them were a threat, and he would know the gaze he was waiting for as soon as he felt it.

Then, the tell-tale click of a revolver behind him alerted Heero that his contact had arrived. He turned around and got his first look at the man Treize had selected to dispatch him. It was a slight but muscular figure, a few inches taller than Heero, and with at least a thirty-pound weight advantage. He wore black from head to foot, mantled by a long overcoat, and small round spectacles perched across a pinched, rodent-like face.

"Greetings, Mr. Yuy," the man said plainly. "The Count sends his greetings also."

Heero studied his thick, multinational accent, as well as the revolver pointed at his chest. "Greetings are generally for social occasions, and this doesn't seem like the time or the place."

"It is always the time and place for politeness, Mr. Yuy," the rodent-faced man continued, "therefore I am simply being cordial."

"It's not very cordial to point a weapon at someone, now is it?" Heero asked melodiously, walking slowly towards his opponent. He stopped with the barrel of the gun an inch away from him, daring the other man to pull the trigger at close range. "I suspect you never intended to provide me with any information, but it would be careless of me not to try and change your mind."

They regarded each other carefully, judging expressions and measuring risks. The wind kicked up another notch, and Heero began making furtive glances to either side of him, looking for his imaginary backup. Naturally, the rodent-faced man picked up on it, and began to suspect, quite falsely, that Heero had not come alone as instructed. As the wind gained even more power, a particularly strong gust flew through the alleyways behind the brewery where they stood, and knocked over an empty beer crate.

The sudden clunk triggered the man's razor-sharp reflexes; he swung his arm around and shot in the direction of the box, and a half-second later, Heero had grabbed the arm and was trying to wrench the revolver out of his hand. They struggled briefly for control of the weapon, but it flew out of their grasp and skittered down the street into the shadows.

Treize's assassin assumed, also falsely, that if Heero wanted to get his hands on someone else's weapon, that meant he didn't have one of his own. "That was not a clever move, Mr. Yuy." He gave his coat sleeves a slight jerk and produced two shining daggers, which he brought up before his face and tapped together with a clink.

Heero raised an eyebrow. This was entertaining, but not much of a threat, especially not while he still had his own revolver safely tucked away. He wanted this gentleman alive anyway.

The combatants circled each other smoothly, and every few steps, the rodent-faced man would take a swing at Heero with one of the blades, which he easily dodged. "I hear you have a way of being a thorn in the side," the man said. "You may have already guessed that I have been sent to prune you."

Heero winced at the bad pun, but said nothing; his mission of capturing the man for questioning required that he waste no more energy talking, only knock him out and drag him to one of the many places he knew around the docks where one could hide until morning, if necessary. Showing for the first time how serious he was, Heero charged at the man and ducked in between the daggers to land several well-placed blows on his opponent, then stepped back to judge the result.

The man appeared winded at first, but then stood straight up and smiled. Accepting the challenge, he held the daggers in an oddly eastern fighting position and came at Heero quicker than expected, throwing kicks, punches and swings in the boy's direction that clearly marked the man as being a student of martial arts. He slashed with the knives almost faster than Heero could see, and it became painfully apparent that he may have misjudged Treize badly; the original thugs who were sent after Heero must have described his combat technique to Treize, who had then taken his skills into account when planning his next assault.

Heero found himself at a slight disadvantage against the shining blades, but made no move to draw his gun, preferring to save that option for last. Blows were exchanged fiercely between them as they dashed around on the wet stones. The daggers missed their intended target over and over, but despite his speed, Heero wasn't gaining any ground either; the man seemed tireless, and almost as skilled as Heero was. A brief opening in Heero's defensive moves allowed the assassin to slip one dagger close to the boy's side, but it was seen a second too soon, and Heero used the man's arm as leverage to leap up, kick off from the man's collarbone, flip himself over backwards and land neatly on his feet a yard or two away. The assassin fell from the backlash but rolled back to his feet effortlessly. They stared at each other for a moment, mutually impressed.

"Treize chose well, this time," Heero remarked.

"A task he does not wish to repeat," the man spat back. Uttering his last and most vehement threat, he dove at Heero once again, flicking the daggers dangerously close to the boy's throat as he lashed out against one blow after another. Heero was starting to see that this battle wasn't going to end as quickly as he hoped, and he began making riskier moves to try and finish it sooner. He let the blades come closer and closer, waiting for an opening that would allow him to take control of the situation, all the while striking at the man's flailing limbs to deflect his rapid slashes.

A craftily-measured blow to the assassin's right hand divested him of one of the daggers, and it fell into the shadows, where the scuffling noises told them both that it had fallen into semi-innocent hands and could not be recovered. Heero thought it would have made the man weaker and easier to defeat, but he didn't rely totally on the daggers, and was able to continue fighting using a different method on each side of his body as if they were being controlled by two minds, not one. One properly-timed thrust with the remaining dagger forced Heero to dodge to his left, where the assassin grabbed hold of his arm with his unoccupied hand, twirling the boy around and securing him in one spot.

Heero instinctively reached up with his free arm and stopped the remaining dagger on its downward path towards his chest. They strained against each other fiercely, and the larger man's strength was beginning to win out as the dagger inched slowly down, shaking from their exertion against each other. Heero had one chance alone to escape now, and envisioned it several times before acting; with only a split-second to get the job done, he let go of the man's dagger arm and twisted clockwise out of his grip. The downward motion of the dagger continued, and the unfortunate man lodged the blade into his own belly with frightening force.

There was a sudden, awful silence as the rodent-faced man stood there, staring wide-eyed at the mere boy who had bested him. Heero staggered back, unprepared for how terribly wrong his mission had gone. The assassin gurgled and coughed up blood; his spectacles were still neatly in place after the fight, but soon it wouldn't matter. He dropped to his knees, clutching the knife at the point of entry, and fell backwards onto the soggy ground. He made not a sound afterwards.

Heero was stunned. This wasn't supposed to happen at all. The man had looked at him...looked _right_ at him, at the very moment of his death when his eyes turned from glistening jewels to lifeless orbs. Heero had seen it. He had seen what no lad his age was ever meant to see. It shook him, but he didn't let it show to the darkness, as he had been taught over and over again.

The agent composed himself and walked away.

**********  
  


Wufei stood back and admired his work on the once-pitiful drawing room, quite proud of himself. He had done a marvelous job updating the space with 'art nouveau' themes, and was sure that anyone who knew him and his profession would be very surprised. Spies didn't often have time to cultivate any artistic interests, but then again, he hadn't been in the business as long as most had, and particularly not as long as Heero.

The room wouldn't be unveiled until he had a little more time to pack some sensitive materials and tools into the secret passage he created between that room and the next, and so he allowed himself the luxury of examining his work with an artist's eye before it was turned into an assassin's command center.

He spotted a cluster of willow twigs that weren't arranged just as he wanted them, and walked over to that side of the room, with his back to the door. _Nobody can tell me that I'm not tidy,_ he thought as he settled the twigs into a more harmonious pattern in their blue glass vase.

"Love what you've done with the place," a voice said behind him.

Wufei spun around and made a grab for a katana that wasn't there. Nobody had dared move past the roped barricade he created around his workspace, so he had carelessly gotten into the habit of not wearing his beloved silverware. He gaped at the intruder, then settled down and scowled upon recognizing him. "Maxwell."

"You know, I'm more than a little insulted that you haven't eaten any of my food since you've been here," Duo said with a half-joking tone. He folded his arms, crossed his legs at the ankles and leaned against the wall. "It's not like I'm gonna poison you or anything," he said with an impish grin.

Wufei looked at how far Duo was from the door with disbelief. _How did he get so far into the room without making a sound!? This one could be more dangerous than I imagined._

Duo shoved himself off the wall and walked slowly and confidently towards the boy. "But then, maybe it's just as well. Ordinarily, I'd be glad to have another guest in the house, but you seem to have some _problem_ with Heero, and Heero's my friend, which means you automatically have a problem with _me_. So maybe it's best that you keep eating somewhere else, or you might find yourself constantly getting the dried-out, burnt end pieces off the meatloaf."

Wufei put on his mask of indifference and took a step or two forward as well. "I think you should stay away from Yuy, for your own safety. If you really knew him, you'd understand that he's not the sort of person that normal, law-abiding citizens like yourself want to get mixed up with."

"Oh, I know," Duo said, "and I also don't care. If anyone should be keeping their distance from Heero, it's you, not me." An alarm sounded in the back of Duo's mind, telling him that Heero wouldn't approve of him divulging information about personal alliances, but he ignored it. "We've got you _severely_ outnumbered in this house, buddy, and if you were half as smart with strategy as you are with wallpaper patterns, you'd see that and get the hell out."

Wufei turned with a laugh and walked towards a table with some of the food he'd brought into the house himself. "I didn't except a common little street rat to be so bold in front of his tactical superiors," he said haughtily, pouring himself a glass of rice wine. While his back was turned, however, Duo was quickly cataloguing the changes made to the room, looking for anything suspicious; the argument was just a ploy to buy him some thinking time. "And what makes you think I have any reason for being here _other_ than beautifying someone's living space, hm? For all you really know, I could be totally innocent," Wufei suggested, turning around to face Duo again. "Isn't that one of the things you love about your country? Innocent until proven guilty?"

Duo flinched. Something about Wufei's tone of voice was unsettling. "What do you mean?" he asked, eyes narrowing.

"You went to America with Yuy, didn't you? That's why I didn't see you around, wasn't it? Why would you do something like that? Did he ask you to come, or did you volunteer? Do you know why he was there?" Wufei's tone was even and accusatory, and he delighted at the way Duo stepped back and squirmed at the barrage of questioning. "You're in no position to threaten _me_, Maxwell. My organization has far too many reasons to get rid of meddlers like you."

"If you wanna make things a thousand times worse for you, go ahead and try!" Duo snarled. "Heero and I look out for each other, and if anything happens to either one of us, whoever's left behind won't rest until the person responsible is put away for good!" Before Wufei could counter the challenge with one of his witty remarks, Duo turned and was out the door in a flash. He had seen enough of the room to draw a few conclusions anyway.

The chef stalked down the hall in a huff, thinking hard about exactly which room Wufei was working on; the memories were still rather fresh from when he measured nearly every room in the house by hand, and suspicions were suddenly becoming very clear in his mind. He walked quickly to the back of the house and up the west stairs to check on something.

Duo crept into his and Heero's room and shut the door behind him, lit the lantern, and pulled the dusty blueprints of the house out from under Heero's bed. Anna-Maria regarded him curiously, then turned her attention back to her offspring, who were on the verge of opening their eyes for the first time. As quietly as he could manage, Duo unfurled the sheaves of paper on the floor of the room and scanned the print of the main floor carefully.

_I know I saw it here somewhere...okay, the front door is here, then you turn right...there! That's it!_ His eyes sparkled as he discovered something fascinating and potentially awful about the room Wufei was working in. _One of the spaces in the walls is right between the drawing room and the games room. Ten to one he's found the secret passage, and--_

He froze as he heard footsteps slowly plodding up the stairs. The possibility that Wufei had followed him loomed darkly in his mind, and he weighed the value of spending his remaining seconds alone hiding the blueprints versus looking for Heero's gun. Remembering that the butler had taken the gun with him when he left, Duo chose to hide the blueprints, and quietly shuffled them back under the bed as the footsteps grew louder. Determined to defend the kittens at all cost, he placed himself between Heero's bed and the door, picking up a rolling pin without wondering how it got there. He raised the rolling pin to ear level as the door slowly opened.

A shadow stumbled in, then squinted at the orange lamplight, holding up a weak hand to shield his eyes. It wasn't a Wufei-shaped shadow by any definition. Duo's eyes went wide and he quickly stepped forward, setting the rolling pin down on the writing desk. "Heero! You're back already!"

The butler looked decidedly unwell, pale and dark-eyed like Death himself. He gazed morbidly at his partner and staggered towards the double bed. "I need to lie down."

Duo quickly helped him to the bed and sat next to him, propping him up with a firm arm around his shoulders and chattering madly. "Did you get any information from the guy? Was it a hoax like you thought, or was he telling the truth on the phone? What did he say?"

Heero sulked. "Not much."

Duo paused. "Why? What happened?"

Grimly, the butler let out a long, slow breath, staring straight ahead at the cozy nest of sleeping kittens, so innocently unaware of what a horrible world they had been born into. "I killed him."

They absorbed the reality of it in silence for several minutes. Finally, Duo leaned forward and reached under his bed, pulling out a secret stash of cooking sherry and a clean goblet wrapped in a tea towel. He poured Heero some of the pungent liquid and forced the goblet into his limp hands. "Drink that," he said quietly.

Heero obeyed, downing two large gulps and wincing as the cheap wine seared his throat. He reached into his shoulder holster and took out his gun, then with a quick jerk of his wrist, flipped open the chamber to show that all six bullets were safely inside. "I didn't even need it," he commented.

"Forget about that." Duo took the gun away and put it back in the desk drawer, then sat back down on the bed. "Tell me what happened." Without much prodding, Heero recounted the events of the evening in mechanical detail, all the while having more and more sherry poured down his throat by the worried chef. At the end of the story, the bottle was nearly empty, as Duo had also needed a few swigs to steady himself.

"He might not be dead," he suggested, fiddling nervously with the end of his braid. "Maybe you just stunned him a little...maybe he got up and ran away after you--"

"Duo, the man had a _knife_ between his ribs. He wasn't moving when I left." Heero seemed to sink a little further into the mattress; he ran a shaking hand through his ragged hair and swallowed. "I don't understand. I didn't mean for him to die, but I've trained for this sort of eventuality all my life. I was _bred_ to be a killer...so why...do I feel so......so sick??" He wrapped his arms around his middle and hunched over as if his stomach was reeling. "I've never killed anyone before..."

Duo put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close to his side. The wine wasn't calming him down any, but Duo was quite sure it wasn't making him ill either; he had looked about ready to fall over since he walked in the door. "He would have killed you if you hadn't stopped him," he said softly, rubbing Heero's back. "That's exactly what he showed up for. What else _could_ you have done?"

"I could have called someone," Heero murmured, "I could have sent for a doctor...I didn't have to leave him lying there for the street filth to empty his pockets while he bled to death."

Duo cringed; this didn't sound anything like the Heero he'd come to think of as a steadfast rock that wouldn't flinch no matter what the provocation. Something had changed drastically in the boy, and it was clear that the emotional convulsions would not ebb for quite some time. Duo wanted to tell him about his confrontation with Wufei, tell him that the Chinese boy knew they had gone to America together, tell him that he was remodelling a room next to one of the hidden wall niches they had found in the blueprints, but it would all have to wait, at least until morning. For now, he was just grateful that Heero made it back alive.

He looked at the clock. It was well past eleven, and they were both tired. Duo pushed himself off the bed and went to the chest of drawers, looking for Heero's pajamas. "C'mon, let's get you into..." When he looked back up, Heero was lying on his side with his feet still on the floor, eyes closed and clutching his pillow. The alcohol seemed to be taking effect at last.

Duo sighed and shoved the drawer back into place, then shut the door as quietly as he could. Letting his nurturing side take over, he sat back down on the bed, took off Heero's shoes for him, and lifted his legs up onto the mattress, adjusting his entire body into what he presumed would be a less awkward position.

Thinking it best if he didn't disturb Heero right away by climbing into bed next to him, Duo carefully sat on the other bed, after counting the kittens. He glanced down at them, all present and accounted for, and noticed that the little charcoal grey one had been the first to open its eyes. Duo tried to catch the tiny kitten's attention and then pointed to Heero, looking as sickly and wretched as he ever had in his life.

"You see that?" he asked the ball of grey fluff. "I don't ever want you ending up like that, so don't drink, and don't kill people. Have we got a deal?" He extended a hand to the kitten, who pawed at it lightly. Duo grinned. "Right on."

A rustling noise came from the other side of the room. Heero had a loose grip on the tea towel the glass goblet came wrapped in and was twisting it into a thick rope. Duo moved to crouch next to the bed, observing the motion curiously. "Heero? ...whatcha doin'?"

Heavy-lidded at last from the cheap cooking sherry, Heero wrapped the tea towel around one of the wooden posts that comprised the bed frame. "Can't sleep...can't....hang onto it," he mumbled groggily, demonstrating that he wanted to grab hold of the post with both hands, but lacked the coordination to do so.

Duo scrunched up his face in confusion, unable to fathom why anyone would want their hands suspended above their head while they slept. He watched as Heero kept trying vainly to tie his own wrists to the bedpost with the tea towel, in as bizarre a display of paranoid behaviour as Duo had ever seen. He tried to hold the boy's hands back down at his sides, but he kept fidgeting and whispering faint words Duo couldn't precisely make out, things about 'order' and 'harmony'. Finally, the chef gave in and granted to Heero what his subconscious seemed to want so badly; he twisted the tea towel into a tight whip and secured both of Heero's wrists above his head, knotting the fabric just snugly enough so as not to cut off his circulation. Heero went to sleep straight away.

Duo sat back on his heels, wide-eyed with immeasurable shock at how quickly the boy calmed down. It was unreal and unnatural, and it frightened Duo for reasons he couldn't understand. He stood up, turned out the lantern and carefully crawled onto the other side of the bed between Heero and the wall, but he was too wired to sleep. He leaned back against the wall and just stared at the figure in black lying on its side with its back to him.

_This is too weird. What could make anyone want to sleep that way?_ He thought about it for a long time in the darkness, letting innumerable minutes tick by before a memory from earlier that day provided a possible answer. Arthur's voice echoed in his mind. _"'Tis the same wi' people, really...put any livin' thing, man or beast, in an environment they're not comfortable with, an' they'll either reject it or change it to suit. It's all in what you're used to."_

Duo looked at his friend in terror. _All in what you're used to...how did Heero get used to this!? If he's really more comfortable being tied up like an animal...oh my God..._

Arctic chills flooded his nerves as he came to the awful realization that for Heero to be so at ease with such horrid treatment, he must have been treated that way his whole life; trained to defy his humanity, beaten or brainwashed into submission, and tied down so he couldn't escape. Worse still was the implication that with his hands bound in such a Draconian fashion, he was forced to lie still and keep quiet, and could take no pleasure or comfort in the night, not even from his own body. The cruel anguish of loneliness he must have suffered brought tears to Duo's eyes.

Now was no longer the time to be timid, he decided; Duo was determined that even in sleep Heero should understand that he wasn't alone. Drying his eyes on his sleeve, he leaned over Heero from behind, slipped off his cravat tie, unbuttoned his waistcoat, and loosened his belt before drawing the covers up to his neck. He hastily got off the bed to change into his own sleepwear, then crawled back in and huddled under the blankets.

Before settling down for the long, eerie night before them, Duo propped himself up on one elbow and gazed down at the caged soul next to him, terrified of how unwell he might be in the morning after such a strange breakdown. It dawned on him, though, that Heero had been a broken man long before he ever appeared on the manor's doorstep, and now, with his warped upbringing and new-found freedom clashing in his brain, he would need someone's help to be put back together.

Duo brushed a few strands of deep brown hair away from Heero's face. "What did those bastards do to you?" he whispered.

He didn't receive an answer, nor did he expect one. Being overly gentle in the hope that he wouldn't wake his sleeping friend, Duo curled up close behind Heero, snaking an arm around his waist and pulling himself against the other boy's back. The warmth from a long night of physical exertion radiated from Heero's back through Duo's chest and evened off their temperature slightly. Duo buried his nose in the back of Heero's neck, as the chill in the room was becoming more noticeable, and went to sleep praying that whatever damage Lord Jeffrhyss' organization had done to his best friend wasn't permanent.

  
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> _Next, in Episode Twenty-Two: Treize gathers evidence to use in his next attempt to erase Heero from the playing field, and is not entirely pleased at how the last attempt ended. Dorothy finds the culprit responsible for Anna-Maria's disgrace, but reacts to the news in a far different way than the household expected. Heero is wracked with self-doubt, and Duo takes him on another thrill-seeking excursion to lift his spirits, but the phenominal luck he has always displayed while defying death may be about to run out._

*is evil* ...... *is damn proud of it* =^_~= Do you like? I know I like, 'cuz I worked HARD on this one. Heck, I try to work hard on them all, but this one took more out of me on an emotional level. I can't wait for October to get into full swing, because I've got a LOT of nifty, freaky things planned for the story that'll last until the end of the year, so hold on tight! =^_^= Next episode is due on October 17th! Ja ne!


	22. Critical Error

  
  
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Okay, time to get physical. A warning for very mild language, but also a warning for (yep, it's time we all came to accept it, say it out loud with me now...) mild shounen-ai content. *some readers throw confetti, others stare blankly* ehehehe...

Disclaimer: It seems that children everywhere are conning their parents into thinking that a laptop and a cell phone are now required elements of back-to-school shopping. I tried to convince my mother that a matching set of five Gundam pilots were necessary items for back-to-FFN-shopping, but she didn't fall for it. =¬_¬= Darnit, ma...

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Episode Twenty-Two: Critical Error

_"Don't it always seem to go, that you don't know what you've got till it's gone..." ~Joni Mitchell_

October 17th, 1901

          Recovering from the shock of becoming a murderer took many days, and even with his bubbly braided bunkmate doing everything he could to cheer him up, Heero didn't fully feel like himself quite yet. He put up a believable front for the rest of the house that nothing was wrong, but in front of Duo, the person he least wanted to upset, he was morose and self-depreciating to an unhealthy degree.

          Taking the life of a contract killer was unfortunate, and he regretted it, but what bothered him the most was the terrible fact that he was feeling anything at all. He had gone through years of psychological reconditioning to stamp out all feelings of guilt and remorse, but ever since he left Lord Jeffrhyss to join the real world, something had been chipping away at those emotional walls his Lordship had toiled so long to construct. Something, or worse, someone, was trying to unearth the human being that lay beneath the mask called special agent Heero Yuy.

          As it happened, the boy couldn't mope around the kitchen for very long before Duo sat him down and gave him a long lecture about justice, conscience, and the allowances made by the legal system for acting in self-defense. After ranting on for about ten minutes that if Heero didn't snap out of it and get back to work he'd be going to Catherine's pub for all his meals, the butler seemed to get the message. With the threat of losing Duo's fine cooking hanging over his head, Heero was soon back at the task of investigating Count Khushrenada.

          After several days' worth of aggressive, and very successful, questioning of a long list of financial contacts, Duo and Heero felt they had more than made up for the time they spent basking on the beach and lounging on deck chairs in the previous weeks. They returned from the fourth consecutive morning in town refreshed, focused, and laden down with a basketful of information to analyze.

          "Y'know, we're really good at this poking and prying racket," Duo said as they marched downstairs to the kitchen. "If we struck out on our own, I bet we could make ourselves rich by opening a private detective agency!"

          "I'm not wearing that silly Sherlock Holmes hat," Heero stated. They hung up their overcoats and sat at the kitchen table with a bundle of papers, near the woodstove to keep warm.

          "Alright, you don't have to wear the hat, but you could at least try the coat with the cape. You'd look good in a cape!" Duo straddled a chair backwards, scooted it close to Heero's, and dove back into the little brown paper bag he carried. As a reward for being such a good helper during the investigation, Heero had bought him a bag of his favourite chocolate-covered raspberry jellies, which he was devouring at a slow, steady pace in order to savour each bite to the fullest.

          "We might not do so well on our own without Lord Jeffrhyss' money to throw around," Heero pointed out. He tapped the small stack of papers for emphasis. "People generally aren't willing to give up information like this without some sort of risk compensation."

          Duo thought about that, nodded, and popped another raspberry jelly. "I'd be the same way," he mumbled, chewing steadily. Hearing Helen's voice inside his head telling him not to spoil his lunch, Duo put the rest of the jellies away in a jar on the kitchen table; out of sight, out of mind. "So, what have we got so far?"

          Heero began shuffling the papers around into the order in which they were obtained. "We know that Treize has a small empire in eastern Europe, comprised of four castles, nine places of business, and at least a dozen slush fund accounts in various banks across the continent." He pulled out his notebook and flipped it open to a recently-filled page. "We also know that he was placed under tight restrictions by the local Ministry of Finance against transferring any of his assets to banks within the British Empire. Some of what was said in the letters between himself and Lord Peacecraft point to allegations of money laundering, though no formal charges have ever been filed."

          Duo's eyes glimmered with understanding. "So that's why he keeps hiring foreigners to do his dirty work...if he hired Brits who didn't have bank accounts anywhere else, he couldn't pay them."

          "Precisely." Heero spread out all the paperwork and shook his head at it. "There's no indication that he has any money or property in Britain whatsoever. If he has a job to be done, he calls Henry Wagner, for example, and when the work is completed, Wagner's fee mysteriously appears on the books in a German bank."

          Duo whistled in admiration, leaning forward over the back of the chair. "I can't believe a guy that rich would come here and mooch off his niece like that. He really doesn't have a penny in England?"

          Heero leaned back and folded his arms, taking long, sweeping glances around the kitchen. "That depends..." He locked eyes with his assistant. "How much do you think this house is worth?"

          The chef went dead quiet, eyes bulging. Many seconds later, he remembered to breathe. "No way..."

          "In all the years the Peacecraft family has owned this estate, Treize has _never_ visited," Heero said in a hushed but pointed voice. "Why should he come now, except that there's no one here with the legal or financial clout to stop him from assuming control of the manor? Lord Peacecraft is dead and buried, his will hasn't even been read yet, his son is at war in Africa, and the only true member of the family left doesn't even have the good sense to take an umbrella outside when it's raining!"

          Duo couldn't stop himself from laughing at that; Relena was still young, but seemed incurably flighty at times, and was often good for a furtive chuckle. Duo sighed, scooted his chair even closer, and leaned his head down on Heero's near shoulder. "It's amazing, how you lower yourself to living here amongst us mental peasants."

          With an involuntary grin, Heero took a chocolate-covered jelly out of the jar and pressed it against Duo's lips. "Shut up and eat your candy."

          Keeping his hands on the back of the chair, Duo eagerly nipped the candy out of Heero's fingers and chewed away happily. So far, they'd had a pretty good day, which was getting to be a rarity; the air of contentedness around them seemed impermeable.

          Across the kitchen, a silent intruder cleared her throat. Duo stopped chewing and both boys looked up from each other at the woman who had shattered their peace. "Blimey, you two look.....comfy...." Standing at the bottom of the stairs was Elsie, carrying a basket of laundry and looking very oddly at the scene. Duo snapped his head up and slid his chair away to a more respectable distance, wondering how much she had seen. Heero simply glared, wondering why he didn't see her sooner.

          "Is there somethng you need?" the butler asked coolly.

          "No, _sir_," Elsie squawked back. "Just takin' this through to the laundry room. Pardon me fer int'ruptin'..." Giving them another odd glance, she shuffled off down the hall and vanished.

          As soon as she was gone, Duo rose from his chair and went straight to work preparing lunch, obviously avoiding any eye contact with Heero. When he finally did summon up the courage to look over his shoulder at him, Heero was staring at the scattered papers blanketing the kitchen table.

          Duo looked back down at his work, feeling a faint, tingly heat creeping up both sides of his face. He had discovered from many months of observation that Heero generally didn't like to be touched, and Duo had caught himself crossing that line more and more frequently in recent weeks. _Still, he doesn't seem to mind it, unless he's humouring me,_ the chef thought guiltily, _but I should just keep off him when there are other people wandering around that might see us. Come to that, I should probably just keep off him altogether._ Duo's entire form slumped sadly against the countertop as he sliced a tomato.

          "We really ought to find someplace more private to do this sort of thing," Heero said quietly.

          Duo whirled around, all foolish hopes instantly renewed. "Really!?"

          "Of course," Heero affirmed. "If Elsie had come closer and seen any of these documents, she would have become a serious security threat. We should confine our meetings to less frequently-travelled parts of the house."

          The slump returned. "Oh. Right." Duo slowly turned back to the tomatoes, cursing his idiotic cravings under his breath. "Well, anyplace but our room, okay? I mean, you know I love having the kittens there, but truth be told, it's starting to smell a little funny."

          "Agreed." Without any further stray bits of conversation, Heero mechanically scooped up the papers and left the kitchen, leaving Duo to wonder if he really had offended his friend's solitary nature.

          _Maybe I shouldn't go through with what I've got planned for him tonight,_ Duo thought, _maybe I should just leave him alone for awhile._ To counter Heero's mild depression, Duo had arranged an easy challenge for him to conquer, a little something to boost his confidence; however, whatever strangeness had occurred between them just now didn't alter how badly that was confidence was needed. _Nah, we'll go ahead with it. He'll feel a lot better afterwards._

**********  
  


          A little grey cloud of depression seemed to be following Dorothy all around the house lately. Everywhere she went, she got dirty looks and nasty glares from certain members of the staff, but complaining to Relena might have led to the discovery of why they were so angry with her, which was unacceptable. One might have said that she had fewer friends than before, but the servants were never her friends to begin with.

          She spent the bulk of her time with Relena now; even Treize had become undesirable company after turning quite sullen one morning for no apparent reason. The pair was getting restless because of the week-long drizzle, so Relena's patience was sorely tested from listening to Dorothy's upper-class whining.

          "Anna-Maria is never going to live this down, _never_," she moaned from one of the plush armchairs on either side of the parlour fireplace. "Her disgrace will haunt her forever..." As her modest eulogy for her precious baby's honour trailed off, she stared blankly into the smoldering embers, lamenting with her whole presence.

          Relena supressed a sigh. "I somehow doubt that she places the same importance on her...honour as you do," she remarked quietly from the opposite armchair. "If you really want to know whose cat it was, though, I know something you haven't tried."

          Dorothy looked up; the other owner's identity was very appealing to her, as she had a few choice words saved up for the irresponsible lout. "Oh? And what's that?"

          "Father always taught me," Relena began, sitting up straight and prim in her chair, "that if there was ever a problem too great for me, I should ask for guidance from above."

          When Dorothy looked puzzled, Relena demonstrated by clasping her hands together piously and bowing her head by a barely perceptible degree. "Say it like this. 'Heavenly Father'..."

          "Oh for goodness' sake," Dorothy scoffed. She could think of nothing more useless than mimicking Relena's cloying, oversentimental mannerisms, but the other girl wasn't budging, and diplomatic politeness demanded that Dorothy humour her a little. She clasped her hands and bowed her head with a tiny sigh. "Heavenly Father..."

          "...'please help me find the father of Anna-Maria's kittens'..."

          Dorothy rolled her eyes slightly. "Please help me find the father of Anna-Maria's kittens..."

          "...'so that I can welcome him into our loving family'," Relena concluded with a firm little nod.

          Dorothy unclasped her hands, gripped the armrests and gave her friend a dour look. "I wouldn't press my luck if I were him," she said coldly.

          Relena dropped her hands and clucked her tongue. "You really are incorrigible sometimes. Whether you believe or not, it can't hurt to try, can it? And you mustn't judge the other owner too harshly, either. After all, you let your cat run around loose outside, same as they did."

          Dorothy grunted as daintily as she could. By doing some simple math, she had calculated that Anna-Maria might have met with her disgrace the same afternoon that she walked away from the animal to covertly learn of the Winner Family Tontine, so the blame _was_ partly hers. Still, she had her pride. "That is immaterial," she declared, "and I hope for their sake that we _never_ meet, because it's unfortunate but likely that I'll lose my temper with them, and I'd hate to have to disrupt the serenity of your home in such a common fashion."

          No sooner had the acid words tumbled from her lips than the doorbell rang, pealing out its announcement of an unexpected visitor. Relena twitched gleefully at the sound and turned swiftly to Dorothy with wide eyes and a broad smile, as if the event could herald to answer to a prayer. Dorothy, dismissing it as a coincidence, groaned and looked away.

          A moment or two later, the parlour doors opened. Heero stood in the doorway, latched his hands behind his back, and announced the identity of the guest for her Ladyship's approval. "Pierre LaRoche, Viscount of Montpellier," he said regally.

          Relena looked at Dorothy, and vice versa. "I've never heard of him, have you?" her Ladyship whispered.

          Dorothy shook her head. "There's dozens of viscounts in France...but what would he be doing here?"

          "I don't know, but he sounds important!" Relena chirped with joyous anticipation. "Show him in, please, Heero!"

          The butler disappeared, leaving the double doors open, and in his place soon materialized 'le Vicomte de Montpellier', a fiftyish man with a tall, slender build, broad shoulders, and a shock of almost-white hair that was extraordinarily stylish in its natural wave without being any specific style at all. He carried himself with an air of quiet dignity and was undeniably handsome. In his arms was a beautiful longhaired cat.

          "Madamoiselle Peacecraft?" the Viscount asked, looking from one blonde girl to the other. His voice was rich and smoky, and displayed a commanding aptitude for English, but with a divine French accent that gave them both shivers.

          "Monsieur LaRoche," Relena greeted in her Lady of Bridlewood voice. "I am Lady Peacecraft, and this is my companion, Baroness Catalonia." She indicated Dorothy with a small, delicate wave.

          The Viscount smiled broadly, revealing perfect white teeth that had no doubt been used to charm countless lonely ladies in years gone by. "Ahhh, enchanté, madamoiselle," he said smoothly, stepping forward. Balancing the cat in his left arm, he extended his right to take hold of Relena's hand and bent down to kiss it. Relena blushed mightily at the gesture but was far from displeased, and fought to contain a girlish giggle.

          "...et Madamoiselle Catalonia..." Being the gentleman that he was, he stepped to the side and offered Dorothy the same treatment, which she graciously and enthusiastically accepted. As the Viscount leaned forward to kiss her hand, however, her eyes were riveted to the cat he carried, a magnificent animal with a thick, glossy, tortoiseshell coat of many different colours, and intelligent green eyes that sparkled like emeralds.

          "What can we do for you, Monsieur?" Relena asked, breaking the spell.

          The Viscount stood up straight and patted the head of his furry companion as he spoke. "You must pardon me for being so forward, but one of your neighbours is a close, how you say..._acquaintance_ of mine, and I was visiting towards the end of July with my petit Jacques." He scratched the cat under its chin, and it purred in loving acknowledgement of its name. "Jacques escaped my attention for a little while one day, and since then, the servants of the house of my friend have heard from the servants of your house that there was something of a happy event here, non?"

          "Oh, yes!" Relena gasped, "but the mother cat belongs to--"

          "I'm _proud_ to say that my Anna-Maria may be the mother of your Jacques' kittens," Dorothy said sweetly, rising from her chair. "And may I also say what a _joy_ is it having them here! They're bright, affectionate, and seem in every way to be perfect examples of the grace, charm, and quality that one would expect coming from such a fine gene pool as his!"

          At that point, Heero stopped listening just outside the door and left before he was sick to his stomach. Relena had a curious look on her face as well, knowing that Dorothy hardly bothered with the kittens at all, and even called them 'the little abominations.'

          "May I fetch Jacques a chair, Monsieur LaRoche?" Dorothy asked in a sugary tone.

          The Viscount was overwhelmed by the good manners his young hostesses displayed. "Merci, Madamoiselle! But of course, you are too kind!"

          Dorothy dashed to the other side of the room where a small grove of red velvet chairs were lined up in front of the window. Relena excused herself from the gentleman's presence and followed her. "What's gotten into you?" she whispered. "For two whole weeks or more, all you've been able to talk about is getting your hands on the father of those kittens so you could, and I quote, 'make a hearth rug out of the little carpet shredder'."

          "Things have changed," Dorothy whispered back. She grabbed a chair and jerked her head lightly in the direction of their guests. "_That_ is a _pedigree_ carpet shredder! I know quality when I see it! And the beloved pet of a French nobleman, no less!" Hefting up the ornately gilded chair, Dorothy carried it effortlessly back to where the Viscount was standing, while Relena brought a chair for the Viscount himself. "There you are," Dorothy said, setting the chair down, "now why don't you tell me all about your petit Jacques?"

          The Viscount let Jacques make himself comfortable before sitting down, then began recounting the cat's history; both girls marvelled at the magical absence of any cat hairs on his fine herringbone suit. "My Jacques is a purebred Turkish Angora, winner of the Paris Championship five years running, Best of Breed _and_ Best of Show in 1898, plus a whole cabinet full of blue ribbons and silver cups for..."

          As the man rattled off an impressive list of awards and distinctions, Dorothy began seeing gold coins dancing in front of her eyes as she imagined the ad she would soon place in the Times: 'Kittens for sale. Sired by Jacques de Montpellier, purebred Turkish Angora, five times Parisian Grand Champion. Raised amongst nobility and on special offer at Bridlewood Manor, Regent's Park. Inquire for pricing.' Turkish Angoras were highly sought after and often sold for hundreds, if not thousands of pounds, and though the kittens would not themselves be purebreds, they now had a very enviable pedigree, and would surely fetch an attractive price. What began as a disgraceful event was turning into a nice little windfall. _I always knew Anna-Maria had impeccable taste...just like me._

          "...and although I have not considered breeding for some time, this is not _entirely_ unexpected," the Viscount finished with a chuckle. "There is love and romance even in the animal kingdom, oui?"

          "Oh, but _yes_!" Dorothy agreed, whether she was listening or not. _Now then, all my plans hinge on getting the appropriate papers from this man in order to prove the kittens' bloodline, but he's not legally obligated to provide them. I'll have to play this very carefully..._ "Would you like to see your new family, Monsieur LaRoche?" she asked.

          "Merci, Madamoiselle, I would like that very much!" he said with a wide smile.

          Responding to an urgent glance from Dorothy, Relena went to the bellpull on the wall and gave it a sharp yank. "My butler will take you up to see them, Monsieur. For some off reason, Anna-Maria chose the servants' quarters to be bedded down in."

          "Which isn't to say that she prefers the company of the lower classes," Dorothy added quickly, blushing snobbishly.          The Viscount seemed perfectly at ease with Anna-Maria's choice, however, and the trio chatted amiably about it until Heero arrived at the door for his instructions. Fully expecting Relena to be the one who wanted something, he was that surprised them Dorothy latched onto the arm of the tall Frenchman and steered him towards the door. "Would you take us upstairs to see the kittens, please?" the Baroness cooed.

          Heero paled. After hiding a weeks' worth of espionage on Treize plus a loaded revolver in that room, visitors were the last thing he needed. Nevertheless, it would be much more suspicious if he refused them entrance. "Of course. This way, sir, m'lady."

          Relena stayed in the parlour to look after Jacques, being careful not to handle him too much, lest Frederick become miffed at smelling cat all over her. Heero dutifully took his charges upstairs and showed them as far as the landing just outside his room, where he asked them to wait a moment while he 'tidied up'.

          Once safely away from their curious eyes, he opened the desk drawer and took out the one and only item in the room that couldn't be explained innocently, namely his gun. He quickly tucked it into the waistband of his trousers, at the back so that the handle was obscured by his jacket. One quick tug of the covers on the double bed to make it presentable, and he headed back out to tell the guests that they were most welcome to enter.

          None of them noticed that two feet went into the bedroom, but six came out.

          The aristocrats went straight in to see the mother and her brood, while Heero hid himself in a darkened room across the hall, closing the door just far enough that he could still see the goings on. If either one of them began poking around in the other desk drawers, he would put a stop to it, swiftly and politely. Hopefully without any bloodshed.

          The voices of Dorothy and the Viscount drifted easily across the hall. "Ils sont merveilleux, Madamoiselle! Very nice!"

          "Of course, it would be my _honour_ to offer you the pick of the litter!"

          "Eh bien, you are most kind! And in return I shall have papers drawn up of their pedigree. I believe I can trust you to find suitable homes for the rest."

          "_Thank_ you, Monsieur! You are indeed a gentleman!"

          "What's the last number in the combination to your wall safe?"

          Heero blinked. That last voice wasn't right. It was neither Dorothy nor the Viscount, and was much barely above a whisper. Plus, it came from behind him. Heero ran through a mental catalog of voices lined up in order of increasing snideness and came up with a likely suspect. "Go away, Chang."

          "You might as well tell me, Yuy, I'm three-fourths there anyway." Sure enough, Wufei was right behind him, lurking in the shadows, and had apparently been working on opening Heero's semi-secret homemade wall safe for some time. "And what's so interesting out there, hm?"

          "Shhh." Heero really didn't have time for this; concentrating on what Dorothy might be snooping through while the Viscount was occupied with the kittens took up the bulk of his brainpower, leaving little energy to deal with meddlesome rival agents. He felt Wufei creep up close behind him, trying to see through the crack between the door and its frame, as the voices from the bedroom continued.

          "They all appear to be in excellent health. You should be most proud."

          "It was nothing, really, I'm just a natural when it comes to animals!"

          Wufei raised an eyebrow, made invisible by the darkness. "You're spying on _that?_ You must be really bored."

          Heero tensed his jaw to keep from tensing his fists. "Shut.....up." He could hear Wufei making caustic comments under his breath behind him, and barely detect the rather banal conversation thirty or so feet in front of him...and then there was a strange sound that came from the floor, a tiny little 'mew'.

          Both lads froze. "What was that?" Wufei asked without thinking.

          The 'mew' sounded again, and Heero cringed. "One of the kittens must have wandered in here..."

          "Then open the door and let some light in so you can find it," Wufei said in a high-and-mighty fashion, making a grab for the door handle.

          Heero slapped his hand away. "That would defeat the purpose of hiding, would it not?"

          Wufei sighed and turned away. "Fine. Then I'll put the blinds back up."

          "Don't you move!" Heero hissed. "You might step on it!" A third little 'mew' was heard, and he had no choice but to crouch down and feel around on the floor for anything warm and furry with a swishy tail, which would rule out the giant mutant spiders that Bethany occasionally screamed over. His hand brushed against something about the right size, shape, and texture, and in a quick, smooth motion he scooped up a kitten. Just to complicate matters, Wufei had leaned far over Heero's crouching form to peer out through the crack in the door and was in the perfect position to get slammed into by Heero on his way up from the floor. They crashed in mid-air with much silent cursing and jarring of teeth, and quickly had an angry hold of each other by the collars of their shirts, growling.

          "Thank you once again, Madamoiselle. This one will do nicely, and I will have the papers ready for you as soon as they are ready to leave their mother."

          "I can't thank you enough, Monsieur LaRoche. I'll make sure your kitten gets the very best care..."

          The two aristocratic voices faded along with their footsteps travelling down the stairs. Heero and Wufei slowly let go of each other's shirt collars and the door was swung open, letting daylight into the room once again; the ball of fluff in Heero's right hand squirmed at the sudden brightness. Glaring one last time at Wufei, he marched back into his room and shut the door.

          He looked down at the kitten he carried, almost forgotten; it was charcoal grey, like the one he had seen Duo playing with every now and then. It was then that he realized how little attention he paid the animals, otherwise he would have seen sooner that the kitten he held was the only one of that colour, and never had a chance to be evaluated for adoption by the Viscount.

          Courtesy suggested that it would be right for him to inform the gentleman of the oversight, in case he wanted to reconsider his choice. _Duo likes this one, though...he'd be upset if I just handed it to the man._ The kitten looked up at him with bright turquoise eyes, but offered no opinion.

          After a few moments' deliberation, Heero put the charcoal grey one down with its siblings in the hopes that Dorothy wouldn't notice the mistake. He put his gun back in the desk drawer, exited the room, and locked the door with a little silver key he kept on the same chain as his pocketwatch. Wufei was still there, waiting patiently, and frowned as he saw the door secured right in front of him.

          "You really think I'd break into your room? What kind of sneak do you think I am?" The Chinese agent folded his arms and smirked. "And are you going to give me that last number to the safe or what? Only, the lock mechanism is giving me some trouble and I can't quite pin it down."

          Heero remained silent and clomped down the stairs, ignoring his pesky rival.

          "Fine, fine, I'll figure it out myself eventually," Wufei called down to him in a mocking voice before going back to the darkened storage room. _Some people are just chronically unhelpful._

**********  
  


          Treize stood at his study window and glared viciously at the pouring rain with his arms folded in a tight knot. His mood over the last week was less than pleasant, and it hadn't improved with age. "Twelve years, Otto. That's how long it's taken me to build up my influence in the world...twelve years. And now this _boy_ wants it all to come crashing down in a heartbeat."

          Otto looked down at his feet. He would readily admit that he despised Heero with a passion, but he still wasn't comfortable with Treize's attempt to have him killed. Unfortunately, he had gotten himself in too deep to pull out now, and was quickly being reduced to another one of the Count's strategic appendages. "Yes, Lord Treize."

          "He can't be killed, that's all there is to it. We've tried and failed miserably, and without risking any more valuble resources, there is only one conclusion to be reached. The boy cannot be destroyed." Treize unfolded his arms and laced his fingers together behind his back. "At least, not physically."

          Otto looked up curiously. "I beg your pardon?"

          "It's time to change tactics, Otto. Threats don't work. Brute force doesn't work. Surgically precise assssination doesn't work. What's left?" He looked over his shoulder at his tall, stout toadie and waited vainly for a response. "Psychological warfare." The Count started walking around the study with long, slow strides. "I've struggled too long to find Mr. Yuy's physical weakness, and it may be that he simply doesn't have one. But _everyone_ has a mental weakness, some secret code by which you can slip inside their mind and tear apart the sinuous walls that guard them from their own instability. Once you have the key, any man is yours to control."

          "This is a bit out of my expertise, Lord Treize," Otto insisted nervously, "perhaps a behavioural psychologist would be more helpful..."

          "Nonsense, Otto, I already have several potential keys in mind, the most important of which is in this very house." He stopped in front of the bear-like man and looked him in the eye. "Go and fetch Doris. Tell her I want to speak with her urgently."

          "Yes, Lord Treize." Otto fled the study, looking very relieved to escape. Treize sat back down in his plush chair and checked his watch. The young man in question would be bringing up his tea at any moment; it would be the first time since the murder at the docks that they would be alone together unsupervized, which Treize had deliberately avoided while his temper was still burning just beneath the surface.

          Like clockwork, there was a knock at the door at precisely five minutes past four, and Treize granted the visitor entrance. In walked Heero, carrying the usual tray of tea, scones, and hot vegatable soup for a cold, rainy day. He wordlessly crossed the distance to Treize's cozy niche and set the tray down on the table, then straightened up slowly, as if waiting for the Count's words of wisdom.

          Treize looked disdainfully up at the boy. "Proud of yourself, I suppose?"

          Heero shrugged to a tiny degree. "As much as one can be, carrying a tray the weight of a small dog. If you asked me to carry six bags of cement, that would be something to be proud of." Sarcasm felt good, just like Duo said. It allowed you to vent your frustrations on your enemies rather than yourself, without leaving marks that the authorities could use as evidence against you.

          Treize looked straight ahead as Heero poured the tea. "Amusing," he said without humour. "Do I take that to mean there are no hard feelings remaining from last week?"

          Heero set the teapot down and looked mildly shocked. "Why, Your Lordship...you sound as if you expect some sort of _retribution_ for trying to have me killed." As Treize moved one arm towards the tray, the butler held up a hand to stop him. "One moment..." To the Count's bewilderment, Heero lifted the newly-filled teacup to his lips and sampled it, then set it down and helped himself to a spoonful of soup. He then put the spoon down and very calmly stood with his hands casually behind his back and his eyebrows floating in a lighthearted manner. "Cyanide takes effect in five minutes, high doses of strychnine within fifteen to thirty minutes. Would you like me to grovel off to a dark corner to die now, or stay here for the full half-hour?"

          The Count scowled at the boy's presumptuous attempt to appoint himself the royal food tester. "You may _go_." The butler nodded genially and walked away. Treize waited until the lad had turned around to pull the study door closed and made one last cutting remark while he buttered one of the fresh scones. "You forgot deadly nightshade."

          "Nightshade could take hours, and by then the soup would be cold," Heero replied without missing a beat. "Enjoy." Favouring his nemesis with a tricky little smile, he shut the door behind him, leaving Treize to curse him a thousand times or more for capturing the last word. Once outside the study, the smile grew as he revelled quietly in his modest victory, but soon it was back to the grindstone, and he headed down to the kitchen to await his next task.

**********  
  


          Hard at work on that evening's dinner, Duo couldn't stop himself from looking outside from time to time at the two birds of a very strange feather out on the back lawn. Undaunted by the constant rain, Trowa and Quatre were outside in their raincoats and gardening boots, hacking away at each other with the fencing foils. It had to be admitted that their technique was improving, but Duo kept his fingers crossed that they wouldn't catch cold.

          Heero walked in from the west stairs looking at a letter that had apparently been delivered late by the sometimes-reliable postman. As soon as Duo spotted him, he called out in an excited voice. "Hey, come look at these two! They're still at it! Man, it's a wonder they don't lose their grip on those things in this rain, one of 'em could go flying out of someone's hand a fly right through...hey, are you listening to me?"

          "Hm?" Heero looked up from his letter at last, then saw who was talking to him and put it in his inside coat pocket before he could ask about it. The letter was a summons from Lord Jeffrhyss, something he had been expecting, and though he knew the subject was far from pleasant, he got a strangely comforting feeling from knowing what was to become of him in a very short time. Still, he didn't want to worry Duo with it. "I'm sure they know what they're doing," he offered plainly.

          "Yeah, well...I have to admire them for not letting a little wind and rain stand in the way of something they really want to do," the chef said, still looking out the window.

          "Mm-hm." Heero seemed lost in thought over something.

          Duo picked up a bag of flour and started walking very quickly towards the pantry. "By the way, you and me are going out in the wind and rain tonight!" he said in a tiny voice.

          "Come back here," Heero said sternly. At least one tiny part of his brain was _always_ paying attention.

          Looking quite sheepish, Duo returned and dropped the flour sack on the kitchen table. "Um...I didn't think you'd mind a little...excursion tonight? After all, it's your night off, right? Nothing fancy, dress casual."

          Not looking nearly as exasperated as he probably should have, Heero nodded in agreement, and Duo grinned. They both busied themselves with routine activities, and hardly noticed when Doris came down the stairs, looking about and fidgeting nervously. She saw the two boys sitting together, but appeared unwilling to disturb them for some reason. She began wandering around the kitchen area and caught Heero's suspicious eye, but avoided his gaze like it was a death ray from another planet. To her relief, she found what she was looking for, emerging from the hallway to the scullery.

          "Elsie!" the old woman cried. She quickly lowered her voice, but it didn't escape Heero's ears. "The Count wants to see you right away!"

          "What about?" Elsie griped in an annoyed voice.

          Doris paused. "It's about...um..." She started to half-turn towards the pair sitting at the kitchen table, but stopped when she saw Heero's eyes riveted to hers. "Just go up right away." With that, she flew up the stairs in a flurry of black and white cotton. A moment later, Elsie looked befuddled to no one in particular, and followed her up.

          Heero stared at the space where the women had stood and had a bad feeling about them that he couldn't explain. He looked over at Duo; the chef was totally engrossed in his cookery and hadn't noticed a thing. There was little to be done about it, especially tonight, but Heero thought to himself that anything even remotely suspicious that happened in that house should be investigated in the fullness of time.

**********  
  


          A long carriage ride through the rain took the young adventurers to the unpopulated outskirts of London, particularly, a spot where the gravel road converged with what Duo described as a disused railroad track. Though it was well after dark, it was a blessing that the night was unseasonably warm, for they exited the carriage and hiked along the railroad track a solid twenty minutes in the drizzling rain. Eventually, after a few twists and turns, they found the landscape dropping off sharply into a ravine, with trees and tall weeds on either side of the train track, which continued across the gorge in the form of a bridge.

          By the time they reached the bridge, the rain had stopped, not that it mattered any, because they were already soaked tothe skin. Heero had learned never to wear his best suit when Duo had an excursion planned.

          "After you," Duo said, indicating that Heero should walk out onto the bridge.

          The butler hesitated. "Is that all? Walk across the bridge?"

          "No, I want you to stop halfway. I'll be right behind you, but it's only wide enough for one person at a time."

          In the dim moonlight, Heero displayed one of his classic disapproving looks conveying that this was not a clever idea. Besides being long and narrow, the bridge had a very limited number of exits, and it looked like a long way down to whatever laid beneath it. "What if a train comes along?"

          "Are you kidding me? Have you no faith in me whatsoever?" Duo scolded good-naturedly. "Listen, I know this track and this bridge. They don't use it anymore! I came here all the time when I was younger, and I've never seen a train here once. Go on!" He gave Heero a gleaming smile and a slight prod in the shoulder, certain that there was no danger.

          Fighting all his instincts at once, Heero slowly took his eyes off Duo and walked carefully out onto the bridge, safely between the iron rails on which the rattling cargo trains once travelled. Duo followed about four feet behind, and they came to a halt about fifty yards from where they started. The bridge extended in either direction with nothing underneath it but a dark drop into the unknown. A perfectly-timed gust of chilly wind tossed aside their damp hair as they assessed the situation.

          "Objective?" Heero asked. By now, he knew the drill.

          "Diving!" Duo declared, rubbing his hands together vigorously. "This bridge is over a creek, and I started to jump off it when I was little to get over my fear of heights. Normally, I'd leave my shoes and socks up here and pick them up once I'd climbed up out of the water, but since we're soaking wet anyway..."

          "Duo, I don't hear any water."

          The chef paused. "Wha...of course there's water! This is the deepest part of the creek! I wouldn't go diving onto solid rock, would I?"

          Heero could have debated that point, but instead bent down and picked up a pebble from between the wooden railway ties. He tossed it from the bridge and it disappeared into the darkness. Duo looked smug until they heard the sound of the pebble ricocheting off a rock with a sharp clink, then dropping into water seconds later.

          Duo scrunched up his face in annoyance. "You just hit a high spot, that's all." He picked up a pebble of his own and tossed it more towards the center line of the creek. It hit rock after rock after rock, and there was no sound of the pebble falling into water as before.

          "When were you here last?" Heero asked.

          "Uh...a few years...maybe..."

          "Is it possible that the creek was diverted for hydro-electric production?"

          Duo stared at the inky black void, then groaned and sat down on the bridge dejectedly. "Dammit! I don't believe this!!"

          Uncertain, Heero sat down next to him, and they both dangled their legs over the side. "Duo, it's just a creek. Nothing stays the same forever."

          "It's not the creek!" Duo whined. "I wanted...I wanted to help get you your confidence back. I know you're still upset about what happened at the docks, and I know you're even more upset that it's bugging you so much. You hate the fact that you hate what you did, I know you do...even if I don't understand why, I still think you're being too hard on yourself over the whole thing. I wanted to give you something easy to do, that'd maybe help your ego a little. Diving off this bridge was a cinch, I figured." He twisted his braid in an agitated way with both hands, more disappointed in himself than the creek. "I'm sorry. It's stupid, isn't it?"

          Heero's perpetual glare softened; he was genuinely touched by his friend's concern for his emotional well-being. Mellowed by the constant effort the boy put into making him feel better, he put a kind hand on Duo's shoulder. "No, it isn't. You only wanted to do something nice for me...nobody else would have bothered."

          Duo looked up at him with plaintive eyes, sensing that subtle note of self-hatred that only rarely made it's way into Heero's conversation, when his guard was down. "You know that...if you ever wanna talk about...y'know, what you went through as a kid, I'll listen. It must've been pretty awful, right?" The butler didn't answer, just put both hands on the iron rail and stared out into the midnight blue sky. Duo slouched and did the same. "It's okay. Take your time. You can talk about it whenever you want, or not at all. I'm not going anywhere."

          They shared a moment of serenity, suspended high above the dried-up riverbed, and just enjoyed the quiet, something that was often in short supply in London. Slowly, some unknown force made them turn their heads toward each other, and last to fall into place were their eyes, gazing across the same path that connected azure and violet in the changing moonlight. Imperceptibly at first, Duo began to lean ever so slightly towards Heero, as if longing to say something without words. Heero didn't copy the motion, but didn't move away either. Some invisible force was holding him in place as Duo inched closer, leaning into the other boy's side so carefully, not wanting to unbalance him, but not wanting to turn back...

          Out of nowhere, a train whistle blew in the distance. The boys looked up very suddenly at the sound, then back down at each other. Duo swallowed and pulled away. "It's...probably on another track...there's lots of them around here..." He sounded as if he were trying to convince himself instead of Heero. "You wanna call it a night and go get a drink somewhere?"

          The whistle blew a second time, a fraction louder than the first. Heero tilted his head towards the sound, trying to get a fix on it, eyebrows knit with concentration.

          Duo tugged on his sleeve. "Hey...hey, y-you're making me nervous, now..."

          A third whistle was heard, and the faint noise of wheels clanking on the iron rails began to accompany it. Heero maneuvered himself between the rails and put a hand on one of the metal strips; it was vibrating to a minute degree, but that was all the proof he needed. "It's on _this_ track!" he said firmly, betraying a tiny note of fear in his normally intrepid voice.

          They both stood, and Duo immediately got a solid grip on Heero's arm. "Wh-which way is it coming from? I can't tell!" The sounds were echoing off the walls of the ravine, making it all but impossible to decide from which direction the train was approaching. They possibly had only seconds to think, and the wrong choice would lead them directly into the train's path.

          More whistles blared, closer and closer, and the clattering wheels were becoming more distinct; there was serious danger involved in delaying the decision. "Back the way we came!" Heero ordered, pushing Duo ahead and thinking that, at least that way, Duo would be safely off the bridge ahead of him. They started walking as quickly as they could back across the bridge, but the slippery wood kept them from running, as their survival instincts told them to do. Suddenly, after about twenty yards' travel, Duo stopped and froze, making Heero skid to a shaky stop to keep from running into him. "What's the--"

          The question never made it past Heero's lips, as he saw for himself what made Duo stop his hasty progress. Far ahead, past the end of the bridge, was the winding path they had followed to get there, and in the trees that surrounded the tracks, the leaves were turning from black to bright green as they were illuminated by a fast-moving light. The train's front spotlight appeared out of the woods, and they instantly knew with terrible dread that they had chosen the wrong direction.

          Both boys did an about-face and ran full speed towards the far end of the bridge, ignoring the danger of slipping on the rain-slickened wood and stones. The train's whistle blared insistently, and in the back of their minds they wondered if the engineer could see them, or if he was even able to stop the train if he did. Beneath their tiring feet, the bridge began to shake from the weight of the cars and the force of the engine; the train was gaining on them easily, and Heero could no longer detect the sound of Duo's laboured breathing behind him. If not for a sudden stream of obscenities blasted at high volume, he might have thought for an instant that Duo had fallen off the bridge.

          Now the whistle was shrieking in short, sharp bursts; the engineer could probably see them, but had built up far too much speed to stop the train in time. The brakes were activated, shooting out cascades of steam that just added to the ear-shattering noise, but the deceleration was negligible, and the train thundered forward like a runaway. Duo stumbled and lost his footing, nearly tumbling over the side of the bridge, but his cries were drowned out by the deafening din, and Heero couldn't hear him.

          The butler placed all of his trust in Duo's steady footing, which the boy had displayed time and again, and continued on towards safety, only a short distance away. He could feel the heat generated by the engine on his back as he ran, each step becoming more unsteady as the vibrations grew worse and worse. When he was within five feet of the ground, with the steam from the overexerted brakes puffing out around him, he leapt ahead and to the left hoping to make it off the tracks before the train ran him over. He rolled down a short slope and fell into a rain-filled ditch, counting off three full seconds before he heard the train careen past.

          Adrenaline continued to surge through Heero's system, yet he managed to drag himself out of the mud and filth and look around for his friend, who he assumed was behind him the entire time; he could not see the boy anywhere.

          He shouted above the noise of the train, car after car of which rolled by loudly. "Duo!?.....DUO!!" He waited for Duo to pop up from the weeds and slap him on the back with a smile, but there was no reponse. Over and over he hollered Duo's name, but nobody answered. After the eighth try, his voice began to crackle and give out, the clickety-clack of the wheels being too much competition.

          Heero was slowly consumed by a swirling dizziness as he contemplated the possibility that Duo didn't make it. _Why didn't I look behind me? He might have fallen...he might have..._ The dizziness caught up with him, and he fell down on his hands and knees in the soggy, muddy marshland. It hurt. Everything hurt. He couldn't even hear the train anymore, just an awful, droning buzz that filled his ears, his eyes, his throat, threatening to choke him to death. At that moment, he would have welcomed its chilling hand to save him from this agony.

          Minutes passed, and so did the seemingly endless train. The last car clattered off the bridge and away down the path for parts unknown. Heero knelt with his head hanging down and both hands tightly clenched around clumps of grass, paralyzed. He wanted desperately to just stop breathing, but his lungs kept drawing in rain and air in short spasms. The clouds gave up raindrops like millions of tears so easily; Heero envied them.

          A frantic cry burst through the deluge. "_Heero!?_"

          Heero let go of the grass and looked up, thinking his heart truly had stopped. He scrambled up the slope to the railroad tracks and saw Duo on the other side, horror and anguish painted across his face. He had simply jumped to the right hand side of the track instead of the left.

          Duo looked up, saw that Heero was alive and well, then nearly went to pieces, crawling and slipping up the right hand side of the slope as he coughed and choked on his own tears. He leapt right over the tracks and tackled Heero in his frenzy, and they tumbled back down the left hand slope together. When they finally came to rest against the trunk of a water-logged willow and crawled up on their knees, Duo flung his arms around Heero and kissed him once, quickly, on the lips. He began sobbing into his friend's shoulder, moaning the same distraught apology over and over again.

          Overwhelmed by shock, Heero was numbed from head to foot; slowly, he brought his arms around the quivering, broken wreck of a boy, and just squeezed him as hard as he could. Duo seemed traumatized; of all the stunts he had arranged, this was the first one that had ever gone wrong. The vision of always having a handle on the situation was shattered. "I'm sorry, Heero," he choked, "...I lost control..."

          Calmed significantly by Duo's presence, Heero reached up and stroked the boy's sopping wet hair, bringing his own ragged breathing back down to a more serene rhythm. "You lost the illusion of control," he whispered softly, "you never really had it." They let the rain pour over them again, trickling down their battered forms and slowly washing away the terror and despair, leaving behind the relief and kinship that would heal them both in time.

**********  
  


          "I don't think you could say 'e was all over 'im, sir," the timid maid's voice assented. "It were really just a pat on the shoulder, like...'e didn't mean nothing by it, I'm sure."

          Treize nodded and tapped the arm of his wing chair thoughtfully. "Yes...thank you, Bethany, that will be all."

          The young girl exhaled and made a swift retreat out of the Count's private study and shut the door behind her, spooked and bewildered at the odd questions Treize had asked. She really couldn't see any sense in prying into the friendships of the other servants, least of all Duo's. The boy was just naturally open and affectionate, something of an American trademark in England, and she was quite sure he didn't mean to offend anyone. Nevertheless, Treize had wanted to know the strangest details about how he behaved around the other members of the staff, Heero in particular. Still confused, Bethany scampered away down the stairs before the Count changed his mind and thought up some more bizarre questions for her.

          Back in the study, Treize mulled over the verbal accounts he had collected thus far with great interest. Apparently, the chef was much more friendly with his young nemesis than any other person in the household; why Heero should attract the lion's share of the braided fool's attention was something he didn't have to think too hard to decide, and the reasons why he constantly followed Heero around on his fact-finding missions were becoming deliciously clear.

          _I should have known, any boy with hair like that would display certain...tendencies. I may have just discovered Mr. Yuy's Achilles' Heel. This calls for a drink._ Settling back in his favourite chair, he poured himself a large whiskey to celebrate his findings.

          "Catch!" a voice called out.

          Treize looked up, startled, and saw a shimmering coin flying through the air at him, twisting and flipping itself in random patterns, and throwing orange light from the single candle all over the room. Without thinking, he threw up a hand and caught the coin. It was a half-crown, like one of the few coins he obtained on his arrival in England for train tickets and meals and such. He glanced quickly up at a spot in front of him, where logic dictated the person who threw the coin had to have been standing, but there was no one there.

          "Enjoying the good life?" the voice mocked again. At the same instant, Treize felt a knife at his throat, and froze. He knew this voice; it was the proud voice of the porter at the train station in Dover, the one who had followed him halfway across Europe. The one to whom he had given a half-crown just to establish that he knew he was being followed.

          "Care to introduce yourself?" Treize asked, nonplussed by the dagger pressed against his jugular.

          A tanned, golden face appeared on the cusp of the Count's peripheral vision, with slanted eyes and dark hair. "Chang Wufei."

          "I don't know anyone by that name," Treize said calmly. "I'd never met you before you started tailing me in Hamburg."

          "Oh, I know," Wufei agreed, "but believe me, we go _way_ back. You just haven't made the connection yet." He removed the dagger and stepped into view, tucking it away someplace where it couldn't be seen among his baggy, pristine white clothes. He left slightly wet footprints wherever he stepped. "You and I have some unfinished business to discuss."

          Treize took a sip of the whiskey. "Go on."

          "Not just yet," Wufei countered. "We _will_ have a serious discussion about some other matters, but at present, we seem to have a common enemy to get rid of."

          "Let me guess," Treize said, putting the whiskey glass down. "Heero Yuy."

          Wufei smirked. "Now, was that luck, or skill?"

          "Resignation. His name just doesn't want to stop popping up lately."

          "As much as I'm opposed to making deals with my enemies," Wufei said, "this deal might be well worth it for both of us. I have some information you may be highly interested in, judging by the conversations you've been having this evening, but once Yuy is out of our hair, it's back to business. There are things between you and I that need very badly to be sorted out, but they can wait for awhile."

          Treize arched one of his forked eyebrows in naked curiosity. "And you'd give me this information for free?"

          "I think it would be mutually beneficial," Wufei said, "and I think you'll agree once you hear what I have to say."

          There was silence in the study for a few moments, then Treize kicked his feet up on the red velvet footstool and steepled his fingers together in front of him, awaiting the news. Wufei smiled wickedly, and began. "This evening, as I just happened to be walking down by the railroad tracks..."

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Twenty-Three: After Heero is called away to appear before Lord Jeffrhyss, Treize begins implementing his latest plan to break the boy's spirit, but as one resident of Cloverderry Glen will discover, the spirit could be long gone before it ever realizes what's happened. Duo plays an unwitting role in Treize's scheme, but at a terrible cost that could change the Manor and its residents forever._

**Additional Disclaimers:** Pierre LaRoche is a guy I plucked out of nowhere, so if I stole his name from any other author, sorry, accident. By the way, if not, he's mine. *grin* ALSO....do NOT, for the love of CHEESE NIPS go walking along railway bridges, anytime, anywhere, anyhow!! =x_X= I can't afford dismemberment lawsuits! Now, I lost the little piece of paper with my schedule on it, so I don't have a date for the next episode...sometime towards the end of next week. As soon as I find the paper, I'll post the real date! Promise! =^_^=  
**UPDATE...** I found the piece of paper! *yay* Episode 23 is due October 25th! 


	23. Reckoning of Sorrows

  
  
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Are you ready for some unpleasantness? *sadistic laugh* 'Course you are. >=D This episode carries a warning for **violent torment and suffering**, as if you nice people didn't know me well enough to figure something nasty was on it's way. heh heh heh...

Disclaimer: **Halloween** is almost upon us, and I refuse to believe that 24 is too old to go trick-or-treating. I've got my pillowcase for the candy, I've got my clear plastic poncho in case it rains, and I've got my super-duper long-distance running shoes so my feet don't get tired. I've got just about everything I need...but do ya think I can find any green tank tops and black spandex in the middle of October? Hell no. =~.~= Guess I'll be a ghost again this year...oh yeah, and none of the people in this fic belong to me, except a few bit players I dreamed up while eating Apple Jacks.

**Suggested Font: Times New Roman**  
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Episode Twenty-Three: Reckoning of Sorrows

_"I slept and dreamed that life was beauty.  
I awoke -- and found that life was duty." ~Ellen Stugis Hooper_

October 25th, 1901

Duo's nightmares began the same night as the near-fatal accident with the train. Time and again he woke up in a panic, as phantom locomotives caught him by the heels and dragged him down into a swirling, crushing abyss of wood, steel, and rain. Time and again, Heero was there beside him when he woke, to squeeze his arms and stroke his hair, and to whisper over and over that everything was all right. He couldn't think where he might have picked up such a skill, for he was quite certain that no one had ever done that for him.

Now, because of the night terrors that haunted him, Duo didn't just curl up close to Heero in his sleep, but latched onto him fiercely, with both arms wrapped around the boy's waist and his head firmly pressed against Heero's chest. This benefited them both, for on those slightly rarer occasions when Heero awoke with a start, having just dreamed a frighteningly similar dream, he only had to feel the pressure and warmth that was added to his body to instantly know that all was well.

The unspoken arrangement worked for many nights, and neither one thought there was anything improper about it.

**********  
  


"Let's see, what else...definitely some canapés, and perhaps some champagne too! With twenty guests, that makes about...Otto, how much champagne does one person generally drink?" Relena paced excitedly about the front parlour while Otto stood in one place, sleepily jotting down the girl's rapid musings. The unveiling of her newly-redecorated drawing room was that evening, and there was still much to be done.

"And you'll have to bring the phonograph in here, as well. I want the whole room to be filled with music!" She never gave the man enough time to interject, just bounced merrily from one topic to the next.

"Yes'm," Otto droned quietly, already tired out from the early start. Breakfast hadn't even been served yet, and the house steward was sorely missing his morning coffee.

"And what about some little desserts that people can nibble on while they enjoy the scenery?" Relena continued. "How many are we, now? There's you, me, Uncle Treize, Dorothy, and Wufei, and the guests...I've gotten back nearly all the R.S.V.P.'s...oh, and I've asked that nice Mr. LaRoche from down the road...and Lady Une, of course, she'll be positively _green_ with envy!"

Even in his caffeine-deprived state, Otto noticed that one name was conspicuously absent. "M'lady, what about Heero?"

At the butler's mention, Relena stopped flitting about the parlour and looked down, bringing a hand to her throat to toy lightly with a little golden swan on a chain. "He won't be attending. He needed to go out to the country for a few days, so I gave him the time off."

"_More_ time off!?" Otto bellowed, awake at last. "He's just had three weeks on a cruise ship to America and back, wasn't that enough!?"

Relena glared up at the man defensively. "He said it was urgent business! I know he wouldn't ask if it weren't important!"

"Really." Otto towered over her, and she actually shrank away from his commanding gaze. "Did he tell you what this 'urgent business' was?"

"....no....."

Otto shook his head and frowned. "You give that boy far too many liberties, and all people like that know how to do is take advantage. Now who's going to serve the drinks at your unveiling tonight?"

Relena looked away sheepishly. "I don't know......someone......"

"You didn't think at all, did you? You just gave him whatever he wanted, like you always do. And what sort of 'business' could a mere servant possibly have anyway, hm? Did you think about that? Of course not. What's wrong with young girls today..." He walked away muttering about how things used to be in his day, but couldn't tell her what was really irritating him. _I had no idea Heero was leaving town, and neither did Treize, most likely. If this ruins his plan, he'll have my head!_

Relena just scuffed the carpet with one shoe, tracing little circular patterns to avert her eyes from her angry guardian. If she was honest with herself, it wasn't a very bright move to let Heero run all over the countryside whenever he liked, and for a moment she considered tracking him down before he left to catch his train, to ask him if the trip was really necessary.

She fingered the golden charm again, running her thumb over the shining white stone that was the swan's single eye. _No. All men need a little space, it's one of their most enduring traits. It should be my priviledge to grant him some time to himself, and it's not going to ruin my unveiling at all. Tonight is going to be a glorious time in Bridlewood's history, and it's going to be wonderful no matter what!_

**********  
  


Duo had the purpose of Heero's trip to the countryside fully explained to him so he wouldn't worry; he worried anyway, convinced that something was rotten in the state of Denmark. Heero was to return to his master, to answer for the failed mission weeks earlier. The only thing that kept Duo from going right off the deep end with worry was that Heero seemed to be at ease with the situation.

"There's nothing I can do to avoid it...in fact, I've been expecting it since we returned," Heero said as he wound up his pocketwatch. "No matter what my reasons were, there's no escaping the fact that I missed the target..._and_ 'lost' the rifle...I'll have to account for that as well."

Duo continued to mope around their bedroom, unconvinced, coming to a halt at the writing desk chair and slumping sadly into it. "Can't he just take it out of your paycheck or something?"

Heero shook his head. "Lord Jeffrhyss doesn't operate that way."

"Well, he should," Duo griped in a low, angry tone. "Better than dragging you out to God-knows-where. I wish I could go with you...and I would, if Relena hadn't decided to throw this silly little room-warming party tonight. Five dozen hors d'oeuvres, six trays of petit-fours, and Otto wants them all done before lunch! What a slave driver..."

Heero took a train schedule out of the top desk drawer and gave his friend a sympathetic look. "You're more than capable."

"I know," Duo sighed, "but I don't _want_ to be wasting my time on a roomful of snobs while you're getting chewed out a hundred miles away." He stood up and faced the butler with an uncharacteristically serious expression. "I'm glad you didn't shoot the President, but it's still my fault that you got in trouble for it, because I'm the one that distracted you. Now you're leaving to see some guy I do _not_ trust one bit, and I can't come along...I worry, okay? I want to help you."

After a long, sweet, thoughtful pause, Heero put the train schedule away in his inside jacket pocket and regarded the boy with a soft glance. He placed both hands on Duo's shoulders, where they only remained a moment before moving up to either side of his neck, cradling his head gently. "You can help me by being here when I get back," he said, sounding like a ship's captain giving commands to his crew.

Duo smiled. "So you _are_ coming back, right? I couldn't help but notice that you're not taking any luggage," he joked.

"I won't need luggage where I'm going," Heero said somberly, turning towards the door. "Thankfully, I should only be gone overnight, two days at the most." He swung the door open and they both left the room, locking the kittens and some other important items safely inside. Heero had cleaned out his safe into the desk drawers to prevent a certain rival agent from gaining entry, and wasn't about to take any chances. "Got your key?"

"Yup!" Duo chirped, patting the front of his shirt where a duplicate key hung on a chain underneath the starchy white fabric. "Go on, then, scram! You don't wanna miss that train."

Prior doubts about how well Duo would take his departure vanished; Heero nodded once and headed down the stairs. Duo hesistated for a moment before following, but he realized that Heero didn't take any situation lightly, and would be on his guard the entire time. Comforted by that thought, he trotted downstairs to fix the nibbles for Relena's soirée.

**********  
  


It took nearly half a day's journey to reach Cloverderry Glen, even on a good day. The backwater hamlet wasn't on very many maps, and every person Heero asked had a different set of directions to offer. At last he found a buggy driver who seemed to know where he was going and arrived in the town square around midday.

The tiny village was quite a busy place, despite the miniscule population. Vendors and shops enjoyed steady business, and the pub was always open. Now the only matter at hand was to find Lord Jeffrhyss; Heero had the address memorized, but had never been to the area. His Lordship generally saw fit to change his base of operations every few years or less, drawing from a list of covert locations as long as his good arm.

Logically, the place to find the most knowledgable people, Heero decided, would be the post-office, which he located without difficulty. Entering the quaint, stone-walled building, he found several chatty villagers inside, and one attendant behind the desk, a statuesque brunette who quietly handed out letters, stamps, and packages to the customers.

At a random moment, the woman looked up out of professional interest to see who had entered the shop; it was a simple glance at first, but she blinked and looked up again, studying Heero in a curious fashion. Then, after her eyes glimmered with militant realization, she said something to a plump, grey-haired woman nearby and stepped out from behind the counter. The plump woman took over her duties as she walked over to meet Heero.

"You're here to see his Lordship?" she asked.

In a flash, Heero put two things together. Lord Jeffrhyss must have given his description to this woman, who must also be the woman who had begun transcribing all of his correspondence for the last few months. Heero nodded curtly. "Is there a message?"

"No," she said quickly, shaking her head. "I'm supposed to take you there."

Heero raised an eyebrow and stepped aside. "After you."

The woman regarded him carefully, almost nervously, and left the building ahead of him, head slightly lowered. Even Heero's untrained sixth sense had no trouble picking up on the decidedly unhappy vibes coming off her as he followed her out. _Agents of high standing are conceited. Agents of low standing are ambitious. Lackeys and hired hands are subservient, but generally not displeased with their work._ He watched her intently as they walked through the town square; every few steps, she looked furtively over her shoulder at him. _This woman is afraid. She can't possibly be part of the network, so if Jeffrhyss has her doing his office work, he must have a hold on her somehow._

Picking up his pace a little, Heero walked up beside the woman, keeping a comfortable distance between them. "Do you know my name?"

She hesitated before answering truthfully. "No."

The boy extended a hand to her, hoping to gain some trust. "Heero."

With a slightly surprised look, she took his hand briefly. "Lucrezia," she said, deciding that there was no point in keeping up the charade in front of Lord Jeffrhyss' associates. "The villagers know me as 'Lucille'...and I'd like to keep it that way."

"Of course." Now Heero had a vague idea of why Jeffrhyss was able to twist this woman's arm into doing his bidding, but for the time being, he opted not to press her for details. Ordinarily, he would have used every angle to discover a secret that might be useful, but something about the young lady and her situation made Heero think she could be more valuable working _with_ him, rather than against him.

They walked in silence for awhile, out of the village and down a narrow country road, damp and muddy from the recent rains. Not a soul was to be seen in any direction, as if the locals all knew by now to steer clear of the area. The countryside was still, beautiful, and fresh, with lush hues of green, amber and red exploding from the fields and surrounding woods; it was a far cry from the dingy, abysmal urban hovels that Heero had been kept in most of his life. Thinking back, the boy could scarcely remember ever seeing such brilliant colour before.

Noin stopped suddenly, backing up against a waist-high stone wall, old and crumbled, a relic of an earlier age. "The cottage is further down the path...you can see it from here." She seemed unwilling to get any closer to Heero's destination; he wondered exactly how much Jeffrhyss had told her about his organization, but knew that to a civillian, the man's mere presence was cause enough for severe apprehension.

Heero looked down the path, then back at Noin. "You have nothing to fear from me," he said simply. Leaving her with one last firm glance, he turned and headed down the path towards the cottage by the millwheel.

Noin leaned back and braced herself against the stone wall. For reasons she didn't comprehend, she believed what he said, and counted it the second time she'd had a false suspicion quashed on that very spot. _Maybe it's a good-luck wall,_ she thought, exhaling.

She made her way back up the path, hoping to be back at her post before Mrs. Trimble became too worried. While she was still some distance from town, however, four large, surly-looking men approached her, dressed as casual labourers. They neared, stepped to the side, and passed Noin without incident, walking in the direction of the cottage. She took careful note of all their faces and realized that she didn't recognize any of them.

_Strange...I thought I'd met all the people in Cloverderry, even the farmhands. Maybe they're from a neighbouring village._ Something about that made her slow down and look over her shoulder, but she kept on walking. _Odd, though, that five strangers would all show up on the same day._

Noin froze. She knew much better than this; living in secret amongst the peasants may have softened her a little, but she still had a first-class strategic mind and knew how to use it. She turned around and squinted at the winding path; the four workmen were indeed headed straight for Lord Jeffrhyss' cottage.

Feeling a new, deadly chill in her veins, Noin ran all the way back to town and began frantically searching the streets for someone. She quickly found who she was looking for and couldn't help but question her own judgement. There, in the center of the village square, balancing on the thick stone rim of the gazing pool, was the mushroom-haired man. He wore his typical poor man's rags and straw hat, and was earnestly puffing on his pipe as he played his 'village idiot' part to the fullest.

"I need to talk to you, now," she whispered, craning her neck to look up at him.

"Have you ever wondered," the man said, "if a pool of water opens up into the sky, so that by jumping into it, you'd actually be falling from the heavens?" He looked intently at the water a few inches from his feet. "If that were so, and if you jumped into the water too far from the edge, when you fell from the sky there'd be nothing to grab onto, and you'd just keep falling and falling, forever and ever until the pond dried up." He was speaking in his normal voice without an accent, but was sounding insane nevertheless.

"Drop the act, would you?" Noin begged, exasperated. "This might be important."

Intrigued, the mushroom-haired man winked at the woman and hopped down from the edge of the pool. As they began walking slowly about the square, he took two stray sprigs of autumn wheat from his straw hat and handed them to Noin one by one with a dramatic flourish. "There's rosemary, that's for remembrance...and there is pansies. That's for thoughts," he said, resuming a long draw of his pipe. "Now, tell me your thoughts, child."

Noin quietly recounted everything that happened from the time Heero came into the post office building. The mushroom-haired man puffed away at his pipe and said nothing until her tale was finished; he looked expecially attentive when she described the rough-looking men who appeared to have followed her and the boy out to the cottage. "This young man," he said, "what did he look like? Was he short, but imposing? Young, but intimidating? Quiet demeanor, dark spiky hair, eyes to die for?"

"Yes..." Noin said slowly, "his name is Heero. Do you know him?"

The mushroom-haired man lowered his pipe and sighed. "There's nothing we can do to help him now, my dear...from the sound of things, you won't see him again for awhile, either. Poor boy...I wonder what he's done..."

Noin's eyes went wide. "What do you mean, 'poor boy'? What's going to happen to him?"

The man shook his head and started walking back to the center of town. "Pray hard for him, child...pray hard."

**********  
  


Heero was somewhat disappointed with the exterior of the cottage, but knowing his master, he felt sure that its humble appearance masked a center of operations of the highest sophistication. As he reached the rickety front door, he mentally prepared himself for the lecture on duty, honour, and the virtues of obedience. He'd heard it all before.

He swung the door open without knocking and went inside, knowing he was expected. The interior of the house was in a state of disarray that accurately complimented the broken pavers and scraggly weeds outside. A brief search revealed no upper floor, nobody on the main floor, and a staircase leading down.

Without a second thought, Heero marched calmly and quietly down the stairs into a messy but inviting room that was many times the size of the cottage itself. Several doors doubtlessly led to other chambers, but the main room was the most impressive, filled with enough equipment and artifacts to keep even an amateur scientist busy for ten lifetimes. Heero recognized some of it, but what appeared to be quite new was a corner housing several dozen potted plants, some of which bore red and white flowers with broad petals. They seemed strangely out of place.

"Come closer," a deep, gravelly voice boomed. Heero recognized that too, and he didn't particularly like it. Some yards away, seated in an armchair in front of a finely-crafted chessboard, was Lord Jeffrhyss, hand and hook upon his cane and staring forward. His face, like always, was unreadable.

Heero approached his master and stopped at a precisely-measured distance beyond which the cane couldn't reach. He assumed his usual position, hands at his sides and standing ramrod straight, awaiting instructions.

"Twelve years of training," Jeffrhyss said in a dull tone. "Twelve years during which I neglected my other projects, left underlings in charge of vital operations, and sacrificed countless chances to expand my influence in the world...all so I could focus on you."

Heero said nothing; he knew better than to speak without being asked a direct question.

"I don't expect failures. I most _certainly_ will not tolerate blatant disobedience." Jeffrhyss lifted his gaze away from the chess pieces and directed it at his wayward agent, eyes hidden by dark spectacles. "You were given optimal conditions, tools, and opportunity to terminate McKinley. You hesistated. Were you afraid of getting caught? Were you intimidated by a few police and military personnel? Hm? Did you doubt my judgement so much to think that I would send you into a situation from which you could not escape?"

Jeffrhyss picked up a black pawn from the chessboard and turned it over in his fingers. "Do you have any comprehension of the severity of your error? It means that one of my rivals may be able to take credit for the hit, but this wasn't to be an ordinary mark on the scorecard...oh no...McKinley's death was a _critical_ prize, worth more to the game than your tiny mind could ever imagine."

Heero looked surprised, not for the importance that was placed on the hit, but for the fact that he was being told something about the rivalry between the various organizations like this one. It was a rare insight into his master's mind.

Jeffrhyss saw the slight change in expression on Heero's face, and set his jaw tightly. He put the pawn back down hard and rose from his chair, leaning heavily on the cane. "Ahhh...I see that you finally realize your mistake." He plodded over to Heero and stopped with only a few feet between them. "But I shouldn't be _able_ to see that at all. Displaying emotions so easily is a tactical weakness...one that I _thought_ I had eliminated from you."

Above them, on the main level, the door opened and heavy, clunking footsteps tramped across the room. Heero looked up at the ceiling involuntarily, again showing surprise. He quickly looked back down and attempted to appear stone-faced, but it was too late.

"I see now that we released you from your training too early," Jeffrhyss said quietly as the footsteps started down the stairs. "Immediate reconditioning is necessary, keeping in mind, of course, that before you are allowed to leave this facility, you must pay for your mistakes."

Heero glanced over at the stairs and saw four large, hulking men, three of whom he recognized, dressed as farmhands in order to blend in with the rest of the village. His stomach churned as he realized that he wasn't getting off with a simple lecture. The three brutes he knew formed a ring around him, while the fourth took a key from Jeffrhyss and opened one of the heavy-sounding doors that dotted the walls of the basement chamber. Jeffrhyss gave a gaslamp to another one of the men, for the room beyond the door had no lights and no windows.

Knowing it was useless to fight back or try to escape, Heero accepted the inevitable and allowed the men to corral him into the room to receive his punishment.

**********  
  


Treize sat in a dining room chair, watching with mild amusement as Duo carted tray after tray of bite-sized treats up from the kitchen all by himself. Otto stood with pen and paper, marking off each delicacy from a list as it appeared on the dining room table; Relena and Dorothy came by to 'ooh' and 'aah' over the sumptuous morsels, all while chatting about what a marvellous evening it would be.

At long last, a very exhausted Duo dragged himself in with the final tray and set it down gingerly. "There...that's everything."

Otto checked off the remaining items on the list and nodded. "It's all here, m'lady. All we need now is the extra serving carts."

Nobody moved. With a sigh, Duo remembered that the upper classes just weren't capable of doing anything for themselves, and turned wearily to go look for the carts. "Be right back," he whined softly.

"Cook," Treize said suddenly, snapping his fingers.

Duo cringed, bit his tongue, and turned around. "Yes, sir?"

The Count settled very casually into the hard-backed chair, crossing his legs and folding his hands elegantly. "I quite fancy something _different_ for dinner tonight, just for a change. Make no mistake, your English cuisine is splendid, but one can sometimes do with a rest from the usual...and since tonight is a special occasion..."

"What did you have in mind?" Duo asked, trying hard to remain pleasant.

"Oh, I don't know," the Count said, making a show of thinking very hard, "it's been ages since I enjoyed a good dish of tagliatelle primavera. Do you think you could manage that?"

Duo's face went blank. "Uh...tally-ah-what?"

"Tagliatelle, for goodness sake!" Dorothy scoffed in annoyance, defending her national cuisine. "It means long, flat noodles, you common little--"

"Oh, don't be so harsh with him, Dorothy," Relena interjected, clucking her tongue at her friend. "I didn't know what it was either."

"How's he going to prepare it properly if he doesn't know what it is?" the Baroness yowled. "It'll be a complete shambles!"

"Hey!" Duo barked, pointing an angry finger at the girl. "I can cook _anything!_ Don't think just because a meal is unpronounceable that I won't know what to do with it in my own kitchen!"

Treize covered a grin with one hand; this was even easier than he expected. Dorothy had no knowledge of his plan, and yet she was helping it along beautifully with her indomitable Italian spirit. "I'm _so_ sorry to cause this much trouble over nothing. Why, you probably don't have the ingredients anyway."

"Excellent point, my Lord," Dorothy said with a victorious smile.

Treize looked across the room at Otto, locking eyes with him and giving him a pointed glare. Taking the signal rather nervously, the house steward cleared his throat and turned to Duo. "I know a shop...in the marketplace, that sells....that sells various, um...pasta products, a-and they can even give you a recipe--"

"Ah-HA! I knew it wasn't hopeless! Where is it?" Duo bounded up to Otto excitedly and was proud to write down the shop's address in his own handwriting as Otto recited his well-rehearsed speech. _I'll show Little Miss Fork-Face!_ the chef thought.

Treize smiled warmly at the scene and gave a slight nod of his head to Otto, silently praising him for a job well done. Duo tore the paper out of Otto's notepad and handed it back to him, wrinkling his nose at Dorothy as he did so. "Now, if you'll all excuse me, I have some shopping to do!" He whirled around and marched out of the dining room, head held high.

A few girlish giggles later, Relena led Otto away to help her choose a few bottles of champagne for later, leaving Dorothy to ponder the look on her dear Count's face. "You're grinning," she said flatly. "What have you done?"

"Do you _really_ want to know?" Treize asked slyly.

Dorothy thought about it briefly, then decided she was already bored with the subject. "No, not really." Flipping her hair over her shoulder snobbishly, she left him to his thoughts.

Treize chuckled. It was just as well, since he had a very private, very crucial telephone call to make. He looked at his pocketwatch and calculated roughly how long it would be before Duo reached the address. Then he would place another call to the police station, ask for the sergeant he spoke to a few times before, and tell him exactly where he and his men could find the long-haired boy they were looking for.

**********  
  


Later that afternoon, Duo put on his well-worn brown tweed suit to go ingredient-hunting in. Hilde, who was partly looking for an excuse to get out of the house for awhile, volunteered to go with him, since she was a bit familiar with the neighbourhood they were bound for anyway. They used some change from the housekeeping money to take a cab as far as the general area, then got out and started walking around. Duo was half-hoping to find some other exotic things to cook with in the days ahead, just to show Dorothy up.

"She gets on my nerves so bad," he said as they strolled through the busy street. "Never has anything nice to say, always the first to complain if dinner is ten lousy seconds late...somebody oughta take her down a peg. I can see now why Quat prefers the company of weeds."

Hilde giggled and clutched his arm tighter, almost hanging off it. "You don't get a fraction of the respect you deserve. You should open a restaurant, become a millionaire, buy the manor, and hire Dorothy as your maid!"

"Nah, you wouldn't be able to see the furniture for the dust bunnies," Duo replied, elliciting more laughter from the girl. "Besides, I talk big sometimes, but I'm not _that_ good a cook...average, probably...I mean, I get by...in an amateurish sorta way..."

"There you go again, putting yourself down," Hilde scolded while poking him in the ribs. "You never believe people when they tell you you're appreciated, and maybe Miss Dorothy complains the most, but I'll bet you've never heard anyone else in the house complain at all! You're a good friend and you're good at what you do, because you do it with love...like Helen taught you. I'm gonna keep reminding you of that until it sinks in."

Duo smiled through a blush and looked down at his feet. "Yeah, yeah, whatever..."

"I mean it!" Hilde stopped and tugged Duo around to face her. "If you think about it, you'll know I'm right...and if you give it enough time, you'll be surrounded by more love in that house than some people get their whole lives." She squeezed his arm and tilted her face up to his. "Because you're special."

They smiled fondly at each other, leaned forward, and rubbed noses in a childlike manner, then broke apart laughing. "So are you, kiddo," Duo sighed, "so are you."

"So anyway, on a _totally_ different topic," Hilde declared with a wink and a sly smile, "when's Heero coming back?"

As they began gabbing away about this and that while offhandedly reading numbers on storefronts, a small cluster of darkly-uniformed men watched the pair from behind. The man in charge checked a written description of the suspect they were to apprehend--a teenage boy in a brown tweed suit and cap, with long brown hair woven into a braid. He was unmistakeable.

"Right, lads," the sergeant told his constables, "let's nab 'im now, an' we'll be back in time for tea." The policemen nodded to each other and converged on the suspect.

**********  
  


Noin worried the rest of the night, and she was right to do so. She stood at her bedroom window, in the converted loft of the Trimble's cottage, searching the pitch black countryside for any trace of young Heero, but it was fruitless. No sounds came through the night air except the clanking of cowbells and the occasional barking dog. The boy had been blotted out of existence, as far as it appeared.

Eventually, she gave up and took some brandy, to settle her nerves and to help her get to sleep. The peculiar young man had occupied her thoughts all day, and she anticipated that he might invade her sleep as well; something strange and terrible was going on in that cottage by the millwheel, Noin could feel it...but there was nothing to be done. She went to bed, even though it was quite early, if for no other reason than to snatch a bit of peace from the creepy atmosphere.

Outside the village, her vague fears were coming true, in a tiny room in the basement of Lord Jeffrhyss' cottage. There, the boy she sought was kneeling on a cold stone floor, dressed in nothing but short trousers in the same dusty, ratty material as was worn by all of Jeffrhyss' trainees. His hands were bound above him, tightly secured to an iron bar that spanned the tiny room at the perfect height to stretch the boy out helplessly while keeping his scraped and aching knees on the floor.

One man remained in the chamber with Heero, one who was highly practised at his work. He held an old but very reliable whip, and by the light of the gaslamp, he cracked it viciously against the boy's exposed back, ripping thin red lines into the skin with every stroke.

The punishment was handed down by Jeffrhyss after numerous chances for Heero to redeem himself--most of which would have involved giving out Duo's name--were turned down. For the loss of the rifle, which was determined to be simple carelessness, ten lashes. For the disappearance of the money, which could only have been through deliberate disobedience, thirty lashes. Ironically, there would be no penalty at all for missing the target, because it would never be known whether or not Heero would have made the hit, since someone else got to McKinley first. Jeffrhyss' verdict was elegant and logical in its cruelty.

Nothing was heard but the sound of the whip cracking over and over, drawing new blood and licking at previous wounds. Heero was silent for the entire ordeal, a testament to the training that had gotten him this far in life, but rather than try to meditate himself away from the searing pain, he concentrated on thoughts of home, of Bridlewood, of Duo.

So woozy from the agony he hadn't felt for months, and so focused on more comforting images of the outside world, he forgot the routine that followed the final lash and was unprepared for the bucket of stinging creek water that was splashed over his back to rinse away the blood. Salts and minerals and filth from the stream flowed into the open gashes, magnifying the pain tenfold. Heero inhaled sharply and clenched his fists around the iron bar as his entire back was set on fire, and as his life essence was washed down into the cracks between the rough, flat stones. In all the years he had suffered this treatment, they never once bothered to use clean water.

The man left, and they let Heero hang there, stinging, burning, but still silent. As soon as Jeffrhyss felt that the lesson had stuck, they would remove him from the chamber, clean him up, and tie him to one of those hard, pillowless bunks for the night. In a few days' time, after some reconditioning and after the whip marks had healed somewhat, they would give him back his suit and shoes, his pocketwatch and some money for the train...and send him home.

Nobody would ever know what had happened to him or why, because that was the way it always was, and for the sake of Duo's conscience, Heero was grateful for it.

**********  
  


"Ladies and gentlemen," Relena addressed her honoured guests, "I can't begin to tell you how wonderful it is to have you all here to share this moment with me. When my father passed away, many thought that it would be the end of an era at Bridlewood, that the time of lavish parties and exquisite soirées was long gone, but I'm happy to announce to the world that the manor will not fade away into the history books, and that our entire society will continue to benefit from its unending beauty and hospitality."

The guests gave her a polite round of applause and chattered energetically amongst themselves, mostly about how lovely Lady Peacecraft looked in her new dress and what the new decorating might look like. Lady Une was there, and was mindful enough, at Dorothy's insistence, not to outshine the hostess with any of the more outlandish creations in her own wardrobe. Le Vicomte de Montpellier also attended, without his trademark cat, but instead with his 'friend' from a few doors down hanging off his arm and giggling coquettishly from behind her lace fan.

"I myself haven't seen the new drawing room yet, so I hope you're all as excited as I am!" Relena turned around to face the double doors and squared her shoulders, then drew a deep, soothing breath. "Otto, would you do the honours?"

Otto stepped out from behind the crowd, wearing his best suit, and took hold of the doorhandles. With a regal push, he swung the doors open, letting the fresh scent of new paint and paper rush out to greet the guests. As Otto stood aside and allowed everyone their first look at the room, there was a collective gasp, then an awed hush. Wufei stood at the back of the pack and watched them all file in and twirl around, looking at what had become of Relena's drawing room.

Within seconds of the first few people entering the room, exuberant applause burst forth from every corner as the guests declared it the most fabulous refurbishment of the season. The drab, colourless space was gone and forgotten. Now, the walls were covered in a combination of rich, dark wood and royal blue wallpaper, with tiny patterns of lillies, cranes, and leaves traced onto it in golden ink. The faded brown rug had been taken up and replaced with wall-to-wall carpeting of a deep, enticing red, decorated in the same lily motif with threads of blue, gold, and sienna. Great mirrors with ornate golden rococo frames hung on every wall, expanding the space to nearly twice it's visual size, and above the fireplace, the focal point of the room, was a genuine Gauguin watercolour of Tahitian girls in native dress. Potted ferns and decorative tables abounded, and the new set of chairs and sofas upholstered in lavish blue velvet stood around making their own conversation while the guests wandered in amazement.

Relena, nearly in tears of joy, called for attention and placed herself in the center of the room, where the light from one of the electric chandeliers threw golden sparkles off her new dress of the same colour. "This is just...it's absolutely magnificent!" she squealed. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to introduce you all to the man responsible, Chang Wufei. I was _extremely_ lucky to find him, and I'm sure after tonight, his social calendar will be filled to the brim!" A wave of demure laughter brushed through the crowd as she reached forward and took the arm of her decorator, dressed head-to-foot in embroidered blue silk the same shade as the wallpaper.

Wufei tried to wave off a fresh round of applause in false humility, then appeared to give in and bask in their collective admiration, just what his ego craved most. "I'll keep this as short as possible, because we can all smell the food, and it's driving us crazy about now!" Another batch of tittering laughter and smiles from the guests. "This space is not just about beauty, but about the search for those among us who are worthy of beauty. Lady Peacecraft shines like a beacon of kindness and good taste for all of London, so I felt it only right that this space should reflect that. She is certainly most deserving to be surrounded by beauty, warmth and comfort, and for this reason I have chosen to bestow upon her this thing of beauty, this refuge from the miseries of the world, this..._paradise_." His flamboyant speech ended with more applause, and Relena blushed and shook his hand gratefully.

Otto and Doris began handing out the champagne, and the guests toasted Relena, Wufei, and the beautiful new room before starting in on the snacks and nibbles. Relena turned to Wufei with many unshed tears and smiled sweetly at him. "Father would have loved to see this. I'm sure he'd be very happy with the way it turned out. I know I am." She steadied herself with a sip of champagne and gave him a serious but hopeful look. "Would it be a terrible imposition of me to ask you to do some more decorating for me?"

"Not at all, m'lady," Wufei cooed charmingly, "I'm at your disposal."

"Oh, thank you!" the girl chirped. "Please help yourself to the hors d'oeuvres, but I'm afraid that's all there is until breakfast tomorrow. I can't think where my chef's got to...he went out for ingredients to make dinner and then he just disappeared! Elsie had to make some of her emergency soup!" She giggled, not terribly concerned; nothing could ruin this moment.

"It's quite alright, m'lady," Wufei said with a smile, "I'm sure he'll turn up sooner or later." Just then, a few of Relena's guests came up to her and were anxious to chat, so Wufei excused himself cordially. He took his champagne over to where Treize was standing, admiring the room in a dignified manner.

"A fine piece of work," the Count said. "Pity some of us couldn't be here to enjoy it." He smiled his trademark smile of superiority and deviousness as he thought of what he had accomplished that day.

"Yes, a great pity," Wufei agreed, smirking back.

"Still, never mind...it's going to be a fine evening nonetheless." Treize listened as Otto put a bright, happy tune on the phonograph, then rose his glass of champagne towards Wufei. "To victory."

"To victory," Wufei repeated, "and to the exhilirating new competition it will bring."

Treize raised a split eyebrow and favoured him with a fiendish grin. Once they could convince Heero to leave Bridlewood, the playing field would be empty except for the two of them, and Wufei's 'unfinished business' would be brought into the open. "Indeed."

They drank, ate, chatted and even danced along with the other guests, soaking up the beauty that surrounded them all like a gossamer blanket. Few of them were to know, however, why certain members of the staff were absent. Hilde, for example, was walking home in tears, having no money for a cab, no one to help her home, and strangely without Duo. She had to leave him where he was, and couldn't even phone Relena for help; during that long, lonely walk home, she felt homeless once again, for Duo was the one part of the manor that made it feel like home, and now he was gone, locked away in a dank little cell until the authorities decided what to do with him.

The chef had been surrounded by the police, pushed around, clubbed over the head as he struggled in confusion and thrown into the back of a horse-drawn patrol wagon. Now he laid on a hard pallet in a stone-walled room, with bars on the door and bars on the tiny window, through which only a trickle of moonlight penetrated. He had leaned on the bars and yelled until his voice gave out, begging for an explanation, and when it was given to him, he slumped back away from the door in defeat and despair, terribly frightened that he had been charged with a crime he could not truthfully deny. He missed Heero, and knew that the nightmares would return that night, but there would be no one to chase them away.

Heero, for his part, was no better off, lying on the usual wooden bunk with his hands tied to the bedpost above his head. It was strangely practical in a way, for it prevented him from lying on his back and aggravating the recently-inflicted wounds. What stung worse than his new scars was that he would be breaking his promise to Duo, that he said he would return in a day or two, and now he would not. Loneliness crept in around him as it had every night for the years he spent as Jeffrhyss' star pupil, but he endured it bravely, knowing that he hadn't betrayed his friendship to his master; that alone, he hoped, would be enough to carry him through to the day when he would be released and the loneliness would end.

And oblivious to it all was the elegant manor house in Regent's Park, full of aristocrats and socialites, enjoying their night filled with drink and song, beauty and wealth, warmth and comfort.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Twenty-Four: Heero returns home only to find Duo in jail, and a multitude of suspects who might be responsible. Duo seems resigned to his fate, but has no idea of how he ended up in his current situation, and when the truth is revealed, Heero must choose between his friendship and the mission. Meanwhile, the newspapers have a regular field day with the news that one of Bridlewood's servants has been arrested--will Relena be able to live it down?_

Ooooh, I'm SO evil...*cackles* You just knew I wasn't going to let too many eps go by without some serious pain, right? right. On a lighter note, there were two not-very-well-hidden references to Shakespeare in this episode--did you catch them? =^_~= Next episode comes out **October 30th.** YES!! Just **five days** from now! Don't touch that dial...er...mouse...er, like whatever!


	24. Mousetrap

  
  
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*shakes kinks out of fingers* =x_X= This is a lot of writing in a short space of time, and I'm not giving myself any breaks for awhile yet, either. Be aware of adult-ish themes coming up ahead, and I swear on Rachel's chocolate chip cookie recipe that I'm not bashing any particular segment of society. The opinions of some of the characters in this chapter do not necessarily reflect those of the authoress. =P O-tay? =^_^=

Disclaimer: **Halloween** is almost upon us, and I refuse to believe that 24 is too old to go trick-or-treating. I've got my pillowcase for the candy, I've got my clear plastic poncho in case it rains, and I've got my super-duper long-distance running shoes so my feet don't get tired. I've got just about everything I need...but do ya think I can find any green tank tops and black spandex in the middle of October? Hell no. =~.~= Guess I'll be a ghost again this year...oh yeah, and none of the people in this fic belong to me, except a few bit players I dreamed up while eating Apple Jacks.

**Suggested Font: Times New Roman**  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Twenty-Four: Mousetrap

_"One of the many lessons that one learns in prison is, that things are what they are and will be what they will be." ~Oscar Wilde_

October 30th, 1901

As soon as it was light enough to see, Heero was sent away from the cottage, neatly dressed with train fare in his pocket. Once it was determined that he was well enough and penitent enough to return to work, all the doors in the cottage were unlocked and he was allowed to leave. Nobody saw him out or gave him further instructions, in fact nobody seemed to be in the cottage at all.

The sun hadn't even broken the horizon when Heero began his long, solitary walk back to the village, and his stomach growled angrily at having to make the trek without any breakfast. It was still too dark to reliably read his watch, but he hoped that by the time he reached town, the pub or the inn might at least be open; having subsisted on rations of rice and bean sprouts for the last five days, he was seriously craving a good old English fry-up.

Heero managed to fritter away the morning until he could get some food and a carriage ride to the nearest train station; he actually watched the sun rise, and when it did, he found it almost too bright for his eyes which had only known dim light and darkness while in Lord Jeffrhyss' custody.

Before he boarded the ealiest train back to London, he purchased a newspaper simply to find out what day it was. Each time he thought about his disorientation, he brought a hand up to lightly trace the crook of his left arm, where there would undoubtedly be numerous needlemarks from mind-bending injections. Jeffrhyss had an injection for nearly everything, one to keep you quiet, one to give you pain, one to make you submissive, one to help you learn...there was even an injection that cancelled out the effects of all the other injections. The man was injection-mad.

Flipping through the paper in an attempt to distract himself from the rather surreal week he was having, Heero skipped over the local prattle about by-laws and tea socials, and went straight to the world news, as was his custom. If he had stopped to look carefully at the local news, however, he might have been better prepared for what awaited him on his arrival.

Heero reached London around midmorning and was oddly comforted by the sight of a busy urban train station full of strangers, but as he made his way outside to find a cab, he noticed something peculiar, or rather _someone_ peculiar sitting on the ground leaning up against a pillar some distance away. It was a pauper girl selling flowers, wearing a tattered blue dress and a little flowered hat. She looked remarkably like Hilde.

As he got closer and studied her, he decided it _was_ Hilde. She was looking all around the station with tired eyes, clutching some wilted carnations and trying to look like a common street vendor, although she appeared to have camped out there all night.

Hilde spotted him, walking straight towards her, and stumbled to her feet, dropping the half-dead flowers. She lurched forward but was so weakened by hunger and fatigue that she fell almost immediately. The working class all stepped aside to avoid her prone and gasping form, but none stopped to help her up. Heero sprinted through the crowd to the spot and gathered the girl up into a half-standing position, ignoring the scratching pain in his back.

"How long have you _been_ here?" he demanded.

"We didn't know...where you were," Hilde choked out frantically, "or when you'd be back...we had to find you..."

Heero gave her a light, sharp shake by the arms. "Why? What's happened?"

Catching her breath, Hilde grabbed hold of the arms that steadied her and slowly looked up into their owner's calm, frosty eyes. ".....Duo's been arrested!!"

**********  
  


In the police station closest to where Duo had been captured, the chef was slumped down on his bunk and feeling quite sorry for himself, but not without good reason. He had been stuck in a holding cell for days, and for the first little while he held out hope that Relena might come and bail him out so he could at least sleep in his own bed, but her Ladyship never came, and the hope soon faded. No one ever came to see him except Trowa, Quatre, and Hilde; Arthur at least sent a kind word of encouragement through the youngsters, but the rest of the manor kept well away, as if they were too ashamed to look him in the eye.

Quatre kept bringing him the only decent meals he would find behind bars, but waiting night and day for Heero to come had dulled his appetite, and that morning the plate of fresh bread, fruit and cheese lay untouched, balanced on the rim of the washbasin. It was by far the cleanest part of the soul-dampening cell, the rest being plain concrete and blocks of stone, with a tiny barred window and an alien stench that seemed to have permeated the walls and floor on a permanent basis.

"I checked on the kittens again this morning," Quatre said brightly, trying to make conversation, "and I've got the key in my pocket. They seem really lively! They're eating some of Anna-Maria's food, and they all learned how to use their little sandbox just by watching her! They're really smart!" Despite the cheeriness in his voice, Quatre's eyes stopped sparkling when he saw that Duo was just the same as before. "Well...you'll be able to see them real soon..."

Duo slumped a little further down as his form of non-answer.

"What should we do if Heero doesn't come back?" Trowa asked quietly. Someone had to address the issue sooner or later. "We'll have to find you a lawyer, or whatever they have in England."

"Relena's family solicitor was here yesterday after you guys left," Duo said, staring at the floor. "He says he can fix me up with a barrister and everything, but he can't get a straight answer out of Relena on whether or not to represent me."

Trowa shook his head with a snort of disgust. "What is _wrong_ with that girl? Can't she drag herself away from the newspapers and gossip columns long enough to deal with this like an adult?"

"No, don't you see?" Quatre said. "She's still just a child herself!"

Trowa turned around to offer another opinion on their employer's maturity level, but was cut off by the sound of a key turning in a lock, and then the heavy, solid wood door to the hallway bring swung open. The duty guard presented them with two dark-haired teens, the sight of which made Duo leap up and fly to the bars of his cage, displaying more joy and hope than he had felt all week. "Heero!" he shouted, clasping the bars with both hands.

Heero skipped the formal greetings towards the other servants and dashed to the bars. "Are you alright?"

Duo shrugged. "Kinda. Nobody's totally alright in here."

Heero looked between the other three faces standing next to him. "What happened? _When_ did this happen?"

"Right after you left," Hilde began softly, "Duo and I went into town looking for ingredients, and the police just..._grabbed_ him! We didn't know what to do! He doesn't have any family here and Relena wouldn't set foot in this place, even to help..." She choked back a sob, trying very hard to look brave.

Heero shut his eyes and exhaled something close to a sigh. _If I hadn't been called away, I might have been able to do something..._ The butler scowled. "One of us will have to go to the American Embassy and bring back--"

"We already tried that," Quatre interrupted. "Duo doesn't have any papers proving his citizenship, so they said there's nothing they can do."

He looked back through the bars at Duo, eyes suddenly ablaze. "Alright...what are you charged with?"

Nobody spoke. Duo slowly looked away and shuffled back over to his bunk, slumping down onto it again. Quatre took Hilde by the arm and knocked on the door for the guard, giving Trowa a knowing glance. Trowa nodded back, adding to Heero's confusion as the gardener and the scullery maid left the visiting area, closing the door behind them.

Heero gave Duo a questioning look. Duo sneered. "They're protecting her. This isn't something you should talk about in front of a lady, after all." He tucked one foot up on the bunk and sat forward with his face pressed against his knee and his arms folded around his head. It looked like he was hiding.

Frustrated, Heero turned to Trowa, snapping his medium-strength glare into place. "What's going on!?"

Trowa folded his arms and cleared his throat gently. "He's been charged with gross indecency under the Labouchere Amendment."

Hit by another wave of confusion, Heero shook his head. "I don't follow."

Somehow, Trowa had hoped that Heero would be familiar enough with British law that he wouldn't suffer the embarassment of having to explain it to him. He turned slightly red around the ears and coughed once or twice. "It means that they've accused him of....homosexual practices....including trying to seduce men."

Duo kept his face turned away from them both, and could only imagine the awful things Heero must have been thinking. _That's it. Over. My nice, comfy life is over now. He's analyzing everything I've ever said or done to him...oh geez, and sleeping in the same bed with him! How stupid was that!?_ He cringed and shivered as he felt Heero's eyes burn two holes into the back of his neck. _Oh God, the railroad tracks! I kissed him! What the hell was I thinking!? Even if I get out of here, he's never gonna let me within ten feet of him ever again!!_

Once he'd given himself a sound mental beating, Duo woke up to the fact that Heero hadn't said anything yet. Morbid curiosity forced him to whip his head around and see exactly what the butler thought of him. The boy looked quite calm and seemed to have finished processing what he had just heard, waiting for Duo to make eye contact.

"And have you?" Heero asked matter-of-factly.

"Of course not!!" Duo yelled.

Heero let that sink in as well, then nodded. "I believe you."

Duo sat up, wondering if he'd heard correctly, but each time he replayed the phrase in his mind, it came out the same. Heero gave a long look to Trowa, who took the hint and went the same way as Quatre and Hilde, knocking on the heavy door and departing as soon as the guard appeared. Suddenly, the partners in crime were alone together for the first time since the news broke.

Duo didn't quite know what to expect. Would he be yelled at? Looked down on? Ignored? After an uncomfortable pause, Heero surprised him by taking a step towards the bars, no longer glaring. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"If I had been here, I would not have allowed them to capture you."

Duo chortled bitterly at his friend's militaristic way of looking at everything. "What were you gonna do, pull a gun on the arresting officer and demand that they hand me over? This isn't spy games or guerilla warfare, Heero! You can't treat the police the same way you treat the underworld cronies you're used to, it just doesn't work!"

Heero didn't have a reasonable answer for that. Upon seeing his blank expression, Duo jumped up and scampered over to the bars, grabbing hold of them on either side of his face. "I'm sorry, pal, I didn't mean to be so..." He swallowed from the strain of wanting to cry and wanting to appear strong at the same time. "It's just been really hard the last few days.

"The other prisoners all voted to get me thrown into solitary confinement because none of them wanted to be in the same cell with me. They couldn't stop making these sick comments, teasing me about my hair and my eyes...mostly the hair..even the guards don't wanna be around me, like I'm gonna jump 'em or something." He leaned his head against the bars, utterly defeated. "They say they've got enough evidence to put me away for two years, hard labour...so you'd better tell Relena to start advertising for a new chef."

Heero grabbed the same bars an inch below Duo's hands. "Why are you giving up so easily? You said yourself, you're innocent."

"I know...and I meant what I said. I never hung around in alleys trying to get picked up like they said I did." He spat the words out like they were acid in his mouth, compounding the revulsion every second they remained there.

"Then it's simple," Heero said plainly. "If you're innocent, they're not sending you to prison. I won't let it happen."

Duo shook his head sadly. "Heero...I know you mean well, but I just don't think I can fight this and do it honestly, and I don't want you breaking the law for me either."

The bit about honesty went right over Heero's head; he was too driven to notice it. "You're going to plead 'not guilty' and you're going to win. I'll make sure of that, and I'll leave the law perfectly intact as well. I'm not leaving you here, and that's final."

The chef sighed faintly, unable to compete with Heero's ingrained bull-headedness. _Poor fool...he hasn't put it all together yet. Sure, I haven't done any of the things they say I did, but that doesn't mean I'm pure as the driven snow. If they ask exactly the right questions about me, how can I lie?_ It was a deplorable position to be in, full of fear and uncertainty, and Duo could only think of one thing that would make him feel better. "Promise me something?"

"What?"

"If I don't get out of here, if something goes wrong and there's nothing you or anyone else can do about it...promise you'll wait for me?"

Heero blinked numbly at the dewy violet eyes making their fervent plea for loyalty and remembrance, wondering exactly how to interpret the question. _Wait for him? What does he mean? Suppose the worst does happen...would I stay in London while he served his sentence and meet him on the day of his release? Of course I would._ It required hardly any thought at all. "I promise."

Duo smiled, though the smile failed to reach his eyes. His instincts told him that Heero really didn't understand, but he thought perhaps it was better that way, better than losing Heero's friendship altogether when he found out that Duo had some semblance of 'feelings' for him.

"Tell you what," Heero said, "once you're out of here, I'll take you to the best restaurant in town to celebrate, and then you can write down all their recipes and take them home with you. First class all the way." It was as good an attempt as he could make to lift the chef's spirits, and it seemed to help a little. Duo smiled.

Letting go of the cell bars in favour of his pocketwatch, Heero judged how much of the day was left in which to make things happen. "I'll go back to the manor, see if I can find this family solicitor of Relena's." He turned to the door, then paused and looked behind him when he heard Duo clear his throat and tap the bars impatiently.

The chef was hanging his arms very casually over the crossbar with his weight shifted to one foot, trying to look as relaxed as possible while approaching a very tense subject. "How did it go with his Lordship?"

It was only then that Heero remembered the dull ache that spread all across his back, and the once-cotton shirt that now felt like sandpaper. He supressed the pain and shrugged. "It's been settled." Not allowing Duo any time to restate the question, only more forcefully, he rapped soundly on the door and was escorted out.

Duo knew that something was amiss. He sat back down on the bunk and promised himself that even if he had to wait two years to do it, he would ask that question again.

**********  
  


The servants were all avoiding the front parlour, as they had done since the morning after the drawing room unveiling when the police called 'round to inform Relena that her chef was cooling his heels in the clink. Had the official word arrived before the morning paper, which already contained the lurid details in the gossip column, Relena might have been in a condition to have a decent conversation with, instead of already bawling her eyes out hysterically.

She alternated rapidly between screaming in anger and just plain crying, stunned by the potentially lethal blow that had been dealt to the manor's reputation. Mostly she simply hid in the parlour, with the curtains drawn in case some rubbernecking passers-by wanted to peek inside the house that was becoming known as a den of sexual immorality. The pile of newspaper clippings on the parlour coffee table was growing almost hourly, splashing Duo's name and Bridlewood's name together in a morass of vile, putrid commentary on how low the estate had sunk.

"We'll never live this down," she blubbered through her handkerchief, "we'll have to sell up and move! I won't ever be able to show my face in town again!"

Her sole visitor, a thirty-ish gentleman with an expensive suit and a brown crocodile attaché case, shifted uncomfortably in his seat as the girl sobbed away. He appeared before her clean-shaven and tidy, as he always did, with hair the same brown as his case, cut simply and efficiently. He tapped his fingertips together and looked around, giving her a moment to compose herself, but it didn't seem to be working. "Er...some more tea, m'lady?"

"No thank you," she sniffed, "I've had gallons and it hasn't helped. What am I to do? I've worked so hard to build this house up as a pillar of the community, a symbol of class and good taste! It's all gone now! Our reputation is in ruins!"

Relena broke down in tears again, and the gentleman only looked more uncomfortable. Mercifully, the front door opened with a loud creak, and moments later a young man with wild hair, equally wild eyes and a tired but determined expression entered the room. The two men regarded each other oddly while listening to Relena weep, unsure of how to graciously interrupt her. Unwilling to wait indefinitely, the young man cleared his throat, just enough to nip at the heels of Relena's attention.

She looked up and immediately stopped crying, then threw her handkerchief down hard on the coffee table and stood up, furious. "Where have you _been!?_" she demanded, stomping to the parlour door where the young man stood. "Not a word for five whole days, and I was expecting you back in two! Do you have any idea what's been going on here? Or what's happened to the manor? We're a laughingstock, a positive _laughingstock_, and all because of that scruffy, unkempt, warped degenerate _you_ brought into this house!!" On the word 'you', she smacked the boy as hard as she could in the shoulder, which wasn't much. He took the hit with little movement and a slight glare.

The gentleman stood up from the parlour sofa and came up to Relena's side, just as she resumed crying into her backup handkerchief. Eventually, she lessened her blubbering to the point where she remembered her manners. "This is Heero, my butler, Mr. Marlowe." She turned slightly towards Heero. "Mr. Robert Marlowe, our family solicitor."

Mr. Marlowe smiled warmly and offered his hand. "How do you do?" he stated in a well-bred English accent.

Heero took the man's hand and shook it firmly, impressed that a gentleman of such a high-class profession wouldn't blink at being friendly towards a mere servant.

Relena whimpered off to the sofa again, blowing her nose and leaving the menfolk to get acquainted. Mr. Marlowe looked at her rather helplessly, then turned to the butler, clasping his hands behind his back. "Yes, well...she's a trifle upset over this business with the chef--"

"A _trifle_ upset!?" Relena cried, holding up a fistful of newsprint. "Look at what the papers are saying! 'Manor house disgraced by sinning servant!'...'Wild chef cooks own goose!'...'Eyewitnesses tell of secret Bridlewood brothel!'...oh, I don't want to _hear_ about it anymore!" She leapt up from the sofa and fled the parlour as fast as her ludicrously expensive patent leather shoes could take her, throwing the newspaper clippings up in the air so that they fell to the Persian rug like snow. The tales spun by the tabloids were all lies, of course, but they were in the society gossip column, the publication of which was the most important part of Relena's day.

An awkward silence fell upon the parlour; Heero instinctively reverted to host-of-the-manor mode and gestured towards the tea set on the coffee table. "Cup of tea, Mr. Marlowe?"

"No, thank you, I've had several," Marlowe declined. He wandered back to the sofa and sat down, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. "Her Ladyship hasn't the strongest constitution I've come in contact with...oh, do sit down, would you?"

Heero raised an eyebrow and took the chair next to the sofa, further impressed. "Thank you." He was already setting aside a place on the 'A' list for Mr. Marlowe, who was anything but a snob. "You _are_ here because of Mr. Maxwell's arrest, then?"

"After a fashion, yes," Marlowe said, "but I've having a frightful time trying to get anything done about it. Most of the staff seems to have disappeared, her Ladyship's young friend has gone out for some more brandy, and this Khushrenada fellow who's supposed to be managing the estate hasn't shown his face since I dropped by the other day. Frankly, I'm disappointed with the level of organization here since Lord Peacecraft's unfortunate passing."

The butler squinted unpleasantly at something Marlowe said, and leaned forward attentively. "You just...'dropped by' the other day? You mean to say that Relena didn't _call_ you in order to take over the case?"

"Why...no, she didn't," Marlowe said with a surprised look. "I read it in the morning papers last week, but nobody rang me up. After a day or so, I telephoned, because any legal matters pertaining to the manor are technically my territory. I was worried that perhaps she'd hired someone else to look after things, but I found out rather abruptly that she hadn't hired anyone! And now she refuses to even discuss it!"

Heero set his jaw angrily. "I see." _Obviously she cares much more about how Bridlewood's name looks in the papers than she does about Duo._ "Mr. Marlowe, as the seniormost member of the household currently willing to make a decision, I am formally requesting that you take up Mr. Maxwell's representation, and if her Ladyship won't guarantee you your fee, then I will. _Personally._"

Mr. Marlowe seemed satisfied with that, and grateful that some progress was finally being made. "Oh! Right, then!" He took up his crocodile attaché case and both gentlemen stood. "I'd best go visit the accused and work out a strategy. Haven't much time before the trial, you know."

He walked briskly out of the parlour to the front hall, with Heero close behind him. "Why isn't there much time? He was only arrested last week."

"I've had my ear to the ground for the last few days," Marlowe explained while putting on his hat and overcoat, "and it seems that someone is trying to rush the case...someone with money. The _prima facie_ hearing came and went before I even got to see my client, and the trial is set for the fifth of November. I don't know who's buying the case's way to the top of the roster, but it must be someone with _tremendous_ influence!"

Heero's analytical side worked feverishly for only a few seconds before deciding on the most likely suspect. They said their tentative goodbyes and the well-dressed solicitor left on his way to Duo's holding cell at the police station.

The butler shut the door, turned around, and glared at the empty house. He was still as a statue, but inside, his blood was boiling. Despite Lord Jeffrhyss' recent efforts to bury the boy's emotions even farther than before, Heero's indignant rage was bubbling rapidly to the surface. The arrest had to be a set-up, it simply _had_ to be, and he knew exactly who among them had the wealth, power, and unmitigated vileness to concoct such a plot.

Heero had to count much, much higher than ten before it was safe to go looking for Treize.

**********  
  


Up in the second floor study, the Count was having a self-congratulatory drink in Otto's company. The house steward had burst into the room to inform Treize that Heero had returned, and was looking very nervous and fidgety until the Count tempted him with a bit of whiskey.

"You're going to worry yourself into an early grave, Otto," the Count chided. "He's just a boy."

"So you keep saying," Otto murmured between gulps of liquor, "but he's also a spy and a murderer, and I don't think that angering him is necessarily the right move."

Treize shook his head at the man and smiled. "When will you see that I _want_ him to be angry? It means I've finally struck the correct nerve, and if he doesn't accept my conditions, I can crush that nerve permanently. The agony would be unimaginable." He grinned wickedly and poured himself seconds.

"If it's all the same to you, m'lord, I'd rather be elsewhere while you confront him," Otto said.

"Fine, fine, as you like," Treize sighed, "but you'll be missing a spectacular show."

Otto set the empty glass down and fled. He wouldn't admit it to Relena, or Dorothy, and certainly not to any of the staff, but he was becoming nearly as afraid of Heero as he was of Treize. Either one had the ability to snuff him out like a spent candle if he displeased them strongly enough, and since he was too involved in Treize's affairs to escape his influence, he chose the safe route and just generally avoided Heero as much as possible.

Treize could easily sense Otto's apprehension and was quite amused by it, but it wouldn't compare to the joy of getting rid of Heero for good. He got up from the armchair and crossed over to the writing desk, thinking he could get a little correspondence done before the butler began hunting for him.

_You've become too much of a nuisance, Mr. Yuy,_ he thought as he sat down in the rolling leather chair and shuffled through some papers on the desk. _Killing a very costly assassin is one thing, but sniffing around my bank records, now that's just going too far._

All was serene for a moment or two, and Treize wasn't even aware of the light, hasty footsteps approaching up the stairs and through the hall. Suddenly, the study door flew open and was slammed shut again. Treize looked up but only saw a blur as he felt his chair being yanked away from the desk with him still in it. Before he could blink, the chair was flying backwards and ended up tilted against the footstool next to the liquor cabinet, and Treize found himself gripping the armrests for balance and staring up at the ceiling. A small, strong hand roughly grabbed a fistful of shirt and tie near his throat, and the ceiling was replaced with the very angry face of Heero Yuy.

"You did this," the butler spat down at him.

Treize grinned faintly. "Please hold your applause until the _end_ of the performance. I've only just begun."

Heero dragged the Count and the chair upright again, then shoved them both away so he could glare at them from a safe distance. "Why?"

"Because you just can't take a hint, even when it's giftwrapped and _handed_ to you, _that's_ why," Treize said, straightening his tie. "You should be grateful that I'm planning on keeping your name out of the trial, and out of the papers"

"But why Duo?" the butler asked sternly. "He's done _nothing_ to you, and any help he's given me in my investigation was at _my_ request!"

Treize leaned forward in his chair and looked terribly sad, like the tear-stained mask of a tragic clown. "Oh...how careless of me...what a mistake to make!" He leaned back again and crossed his legs languidly as the grin returned. "Perhaps I should consider having the charges against Mr. Maxwell dropped. What do you think?"

"I'm far too polite to say what I think," Heero said sharply. "Get to the point, Treize. I want Duo released, and you're fast-tracking him straight into prison. What's your price?"

Treize fiddled smugly with one of his gold-plated cufflinks, taking his time to answer. He got up and walked very slowly towards Heero, stretching the boy's patience to the limit before making his first and only offer. "Leave Bridlewood. Take that braided deviant of nature with you, if you like, but leave this place and never return." He waited for an immediate response, and when none came, casually lit a cigar. "Leave England, the pair of you. Hide yourselves away in some dark corner of the earth where twisted people like you are accepted, and where my business dealings will be well out of your reach. Throw yourselves off Gibraltar for all I care...but if you want him back, it is absolutely imperative that you and I never cross paths again." He waited again for a reaction, then shrugged. "Otherwise...well...we both know that sweet little boy is much too fragile for prison life, and 'accidental death' behind bars is not at all unheard of in the British Empire."

Heero remained stonefaced, finally responding with the silent resistance Jeffrhyss had drummed into him. He calmly computed the pros and cons with a blank expression, but his eyes betrayed a volcanic fury held back only by the thought of being given a jail cell of his own on a homicide charge. He couldn't give Duo over to the seedy lowlifes in Dartmoor just looking for someone to take their frustrations out on, but he couldn't abandon the mission either. "Unacceptable."

Treize shrugged and walked away. "I hope your friend likes prison food."

"I see a critical flaw in your plan," Heero said.

"Indeed?" Treize sang lightly as he went to the armchair and refilled his whiskey glass. "Kindly elaborate, Mr. Yuy. I could do with a laugh after such brusque treatment."

Heero took a few menacing steps towards him, keeping the pressure at maximum. "All along, you've been toiling under the assumption that the charges against Duo are justified. You may have bought a place in the courtroom to satisfy your grudge, but you can't buy the jury. The case is out of your hands now, and I doubt even you could totally corrupt one of the cornerstones of the British legal system. They'll see that Duo is innocent, and all your hard work will be for nothing."

Treize swirled the amber liquid around in the jewel-cut glass and chuckled. "I won't deny that I can't buy the jury, but I can buy what they see and hear, and what they see and hear will ultimately decide the case." He drained the glass in one gulp, then studied the pattern in the glass with interest. "Besides, how can you honestly believe that he isn't at least partly guilty? I didn't imagine what _I've_ seen and heard around here, especially about you two, and I'm suprised that such a devout student of silence and deception as yourself wouldn't be more discreet about his...companionships. Perhaps you should rethink your strategy if you intend to rely solely on the 'truth'."

Heero glared, deciding he had exposed himself to more than enough of the Count's drivel for one day. He walked swiftly to the study door, and just as he reached it, Treize called out one last time with his offer. "It's not too late, Mr. Yuy. You have until November 5th to decide...but if you're not out of my life by then, it really will be too late, for you _and_ your little friend."

The butler only paused a moment before opening the door. "See you in court." He left, slamming the door shut, this time with as much determination as anger.

**********  
  


The litter of kittens seemed immune to the turmoil in the house, and were happily beginning to explore their environment. It was becoming less and less of a good idea for Heero to keep locking them in the bedroom just to keep Wufei from getting at the treasure trove of cash and sensitive documents being held there. Duo had given his spare key to Quatre, who gave it back to Heero at the earliest opportunity, after which the butler decided the kittens should be given some breathing room.

He packed up everything that had once been inside the homemade safe, stuffed it into Duo's old carpet bag, and took the whole bundle to his old room at the Muddy Nag, which he still held onto for various reasons. He locked the room up again, and gave Catherine another three months' rent in advance, which she very happily accepted.

Next, Heero went back to the police station where Duo and Mr. Marlowe were hard at work developing a defense to the gross indecency charges. Now that Heero was back, Duo stopped feeling so sorry for himself and was finally fired up about the trial; he practically insisted on being put on the stand, even though he had a right not to testify. Heero and Marlowe stayed as long as they could before the guards said it was time for them to go, and they both took a cab back to the manor.

Heero invited Marlowe down the kitchen for a late dinner, to which the chipper and personable solicitor quickly agreed. They found Trowa, Quatre and Hilde seated around the kitchen table, waiting for them.

"How is he?" Hilde asked desperately.

"Putting up a brave front," Heero said, pulling out a chair. He briefly introduced Mr. Marlowe to the others, and the solicitor set his crocodile case on the table.

"It's good to meet you all," he said, "and especially good to see that Mr. Maxwell has so many friends. I'd like you all to sit in the gallery where the jury can see you." He sat down and massaged his writing hand, sore from the copious notes he had taken all afternoon. "The way things are going, we'll need all the support we can get."

They all looked at Heero, who wasn't looking at anyone. "What do you mean?" Trowa asked tersely.

Marlowe winced. "It means that, while I find Mr. Ma--...while I find _Duo_ to be a pleasant and very engaging young man, I'm afraid I don't fancy his chances. The prosecution is simply streaking ahead of us, and it's all moving at a fantastic pace!" He opened his attaché case, took out a single sheet of paper and handed it to Heero. "I didn't want to upset you in front of your friend, but the Crown's barrister has already presented me with a list of witnesses."

Heero looked over the page and saw the names of eight men he'd never heard of. "Who _are_ all these?"

Marlowe looked uncomfortably at Hilde, but presumed that she chose to be there, and was ready to hear anything. "They all claim to have been...indecently propositioned in the street by Mr. Maxwell."

While the other servants made angry noises of disgust at the accusation, Heero's eye fell on the last two names that made up the list of ten witnesses: Elsie Farmer and Chang Wufei. He glared violently at the paper, unsuccessfully willing it to burst into flames and send itself back to the deceitful hell from whence it came. _Omae o korosu! Both of you!!_

"He's denied all knowledge of these, er, gentlemen," Marlowe continued, "and perhaps I could investigate and refute their claims, if only I had more _time_...but the trial's been pushed so far forward, there arent enough days left to properly prepare. I've a dreadful feeling that someone's planned it that way."

Hearing Duo's own lawyer admit that there was little hope for victory brought a grim cloud down around the table; nobody had much of an appetite for dinner anymore. The other three servants made woeful conversation with the solicitor as they all speculated over who could possibly harbour such terrible spite towards such a kind, gentle soul as Duo, but Heero didn't join in. For their own safety, he had to bear the terrible truth, and the guilt it brought, all alone.

**********  
  


At the end of the very frustrating day, all Heero wanted to do was fall unconscious, wake up, and find that this was all just a garish nightmare. _Treize must have paid off every one of those men, they can't possibly be telling the truth...but if he's paying for false testimony, he must be scared. He knows I'm right and that no jury on earth would convict...but who's to say they won't after hearing whatever lies he's invented about Duo?_ A headache was starting to set in.

As he climbed the familiar stairs to his room, nothing felt real; the stairs, the walls, and even the house itself should have collapsed in sympathy after such a disastrous week, and yet here they stood. He wanted the house to destroy itself, to complete the disassembly of his happy illusions of comfort and safety, to get it over with now while he was still in a sour mood. He stopped his ascent and shook the banister violently; it wouldn't budge.

_...hn._

It only burned off a tiny fraction of the tension he needed to expel, but fatigue prevented him from putting any fresh holes in the rotting plasterboard wall. Curiously enough, at the moment when he most wanted to destroy something, what suddenly caught his attention was a tiny little 'mew'.

Heero looked up. At the top of the stairs, peering down at him with glossy turquoise eyes, was the little charcoal grey kitten he'd become acquainted with before. It looked as though it was waiting for someone to come up and visit, and must have actually missed Duo and Heero very much.

The butler's glare softened, and he trod up the rest of the stairs, scooping the kitten up from the final step. It gave a little squeak as it was lifted off the floor, then settled down to enjoy the rest of the ride. Heero went into his room and shut the door, then went over to his bed and counted the kittens; six in the bed and one in his hand, a rather high number, but they all seemed healthy.

He sat down on the edge of Duo's bed and watched them, thinking. _They must wonder where Duo is. He used to play with them every night...and I used to tell him to shut the light off and go to bed or he'd be sleeping on the floor._ Without thinking or noticing, he cradled the grey kitten against his chest and rubbed its neck as he stared straight ahead. The kitten shut its tiny eyes and purred gently, tucking its paws into Heero's shirt to keep them warm.

The simple act of stroking the soft fur had the same soothing effect on Heero as polishing the silver, but it couldn't ease the guilt and loneliness that was pouring in on him from all sides. _...Duo-nezu...I never treated you very well, did I?_

The kitten mewed again, reminding Heero of its presence. He shook off the blanket of self-pity and got up to put the grey kitten down to sleep with the others, but to his surprise, it wriggled and squirmed away from them, and clung to Heero's sleeve with its tiny claws.

Heero scowled and tried to pry the furball off him, but the kitten was adamant. It refused to let go of him, and he didn't want to risk hurting it by pulling too hard. He let it sit on his right arm and looked down at it with a mental sigh. Thinking it just wanted more attention, he sat back down on the double bed, but instead of cuddling up for another scratch behind the ears, the kitten scrambled over Heero's shoulder and jumped down onto Duo's side of the bed, curling up on his pillow right away.

Heero looked at the kitten over his shoulder and realized with gratitude that it didn't sink its claws into his sore back on the way down. _Trowa seems to believe that animals are highly psychic,_ he thought. _Perhaps this one can tell that I'm injured._

He watched the kitten for awhile, and every so often it opened its eyes and looked up at him, to make sure he was still there. He looked over at the rest of the kittens, and Anna-Maria; none of them seemed bothered by the depressed atmosphere Heero brought into the room with him, or by the abscence of Duo. He looked back at the ball of fluff on the other pillow. "It's alright.....I miss him too," he whispered. _I suppose I must, if I'm talking to a cat,_ he thought, rolling his eyes slightly. The grey kitten was almost asleep, and only the tip of its tail twitched in response.

Resigned to letting the feline stay where it was, Heero changed clothes, turned out the lantern on the desk, and carefully climbed into bed. The kitten was just lonely for its human friends, and it would have been cruel to forcibly evict it from the bed; there was more than enough room for both of them anyway.

Lying on his back was too painful, and he preferred to know where his little guest was during the night, so Heero rolled onto his left side where he could easily see the dark shape on Duo's pillow. Jeffrhyss would have been most disappointed in him at that moment, of that there was no doubt, but he was beginning to see that Jeffrhyss' training methods and a 'normal' life were incompatible with each other. Heero squeezed his own pillow with both hands. _Why wasn't I ever given a choice??_

Sensing sudden distress on the other side of the bed, the charcoal grey kitten climbed over to nestle between the pillows, nuzzling and rubbing up against Heero's clenched hands. The boy relaxed his grip and closed his eyes, drifting into a warm, pleasant haze, comforted just by having a presence next to him, even if it was a tiny animal. They each settled down and went to sleep, somehow knowing in the back of their minds that they wouldn't be sleeping any more soundly that night than Duo would.

  
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_Next, in Episode Twenty-Five: Court is in session for the case of Crown v. Maxwell, as Duo fights to defend his honour before the whole of England, but Treize has nearly every route of escape blocked with legal trickery. What can Heero possibly pull out of his sleeve that can save his friend from jail?_

You heard the man, November 5th. *gaaaaaaasp* If I don't make this deadline, it means I died at the keyboard due to overexertion of the spacebar thumb. =X_x= *salutes* Our questions, both new and old, will be answered next week! Watch this space!! =^_^=


	25. The Trial double length episode

  
  
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*shakes kinks out of fingers **again*** =X_x= You may notice that I used a quote from the same man two episodes in a row...if you have no idea why I did this, look his name up after you finish this episode. You may find it...enlightening. =^_~= You're gonna see some heavy material here, and I just want to be perfectly clear on something so I don't get hate-mail for it later: In the sixties, the courts decided the law had no business dictating what consenting adults could do behind closed doors, but before then, "alternative lifestyles" were a serious crime. Stuff like this happened in real life to real people, but I'm just the messenger, o-tay? Oh, and my beta reader is the one who picked out the spelling of Hilde's last name, so if you thought it shoulda been something else, address your complaintst to rachelperrin@billsfan.net =P

Disclaimer: ....umm....I just wrote forty pages in five days, I don't think there's anything left in me to write a new disclaimer. Maybe next week. =^_^=

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Episode Twenty-Five: The Trial

_"The pure and simple truth is rarely pure and never simple." ~Oscar Wilde_

November 5th, 1901

On the night before the trial, it rained and rained until the gutters turned to rivers and the pavement disappeared under an inch-deep cascade of freezing cold water. Quatre and Trowa were up half the night soaking up the steady trickle invading the basement with rags and sponges, and collapsed exhausted into their beds a little before sunrise. Quatre found he couldn't sleep, however, and went wandering around the house trying to burn off some nervous energy.

His route was random and aimless until he sensed a presence that was out of place, away from any of the bedrooms and very faint. He followed the feeling right to the door of the library and knocked gently; there was no answer, but curiosity begged him to open the door and peek inside.

There was someone sitting at the reading table sound asleep, with their head laid flat on an open book and pointing away from the door. A gaslamp on the same table was sitting unlit, having used up its fuel some time ago, and there were dusty books and many piles of paper everywhere. As Quatre stepped closer, taking small, quiet steps to avoid waking the person, he realized it was Heero.

He read the title of one of the books and sighed deeply; they were law books, the same ones the boy had been studying for the last three days, and for which he had already given up two nights' sleep. It seemed to have caught up with him at last.

Quatre reached out and shook him gently by the shoulder. "Heero?"

The butler stirred with a tiny moan and opened his eyes to the darkness. Groggily pulling himself upright, he gradually noticed the lantern was out, realized where he was and what he was doing, and fumbled clumsily for his pocketwatch.

"It's five-thirty," Quatre whispered.

Heero looked up, seeing the gardener's shadowed outline for the first time. He moaned again and rubbed his eyes while Quatre went to the far writing desk and flipped on the electric lamp, providing enough light to see without blinding the other boy.

When Quatre walked back to the reading table, Heero was staring oddly at a small lump of dark fur on one of the law books, now visible in the dim light. They both leaned in closer and identified it as a curled-up kitten, sleeping comfortably with it's nose tucked into it's tail.

"Study partner?" Quatre whispered with a smile.

"No," Heero said, shaking his head slightly at the charcoal grey lump, "it was sleeping upstairs when I came down here...how on earth did it..." Heero mentally traced the route from the attic to the library, counting the number of doors, corners, and stairs in between, but couldn't fathom how the tiny kitten had managed to follow him.

Quatre had already shrugged the puzzle off and was pulling a second chair up to the table. "Have you made any progress?"

Heero shook his head again. "I've been through every one of these and there are no precedents that can help us. I've been on the phone ten times to the American Embassy, the church that ran Duo's old orphanage...I even got so far as to find out what ship his parents arrived on ten years ago, but the booking agency doesn't have their address on record. I can't find any of his family or any legal loopholes that might get him out of this." He slouched and stared blankly at the page he was reading when he fell asleep, unable to say anything encouraging and yet unwilling to admit he had failed.

"You got two of the prosecutor's witnesses thrown out, didn't you?" Quatre reminded him in a hopeful voice.

"For providing false information to the court about their citizenship, yes," Heero said flatly, "but I didn't have time to investigate them all. They still have a strong case against Duo."

"I still wish you'd let me take the stand as a character witness," Quatre said somberly, shaking his head. "You don't know that any of my sisters will be there."

"If it was up to me, you wouldn't even be in the courtroom," Heero argued, "but I can't force you to stay home. Putting you on the stand is an even greater risk, and I _cannot_, in good conscience, sacrifice your safety, even for his."

Quatre leaned over the table and lightly stroked the fur on the kitten's curled-up back, hoping it would cheer him up a little. "I wish this tontine had already been settled...at least then I might have had a chance to bail Duo out so he wouldn't have had to spend the week on remand. We could have afforded it, then..."

Heero ground his teeth angrily, remembering with bitterness how someone, most likely Treize, had pushed bail far beyond even Heero's vast means. The price tag was more than his entire net worth, and so the chef stayed in custody until the trial. Heero watched as the kitten stirred sleepily and Quatre drew his hand away quickly, not really wanting to wake it. "I can't imagine who would want to do this to him," the gardener said solemnly. "Duo's so friendly and happy...someone's got to be out of their mind. Someone's got to be lying."

Difficult as it was, Heero didn't answer. It would be endangering Quatre and endagering the mission if he revealed what he knew. _I'm going to bring Duo home. I don't know how, but it has to be done. I won't let him suffer because of my profession, and I won't let Treize beat me._ The pair sat watching the ball of fur breathe in and out in dreamless sleep, listening to the rain pounding the house, muffled by the rooms around them. The sun rose slower that morning than it ever had before or ever would again, on the day that would live in infamy at Bridlewood Manor.

**********  
  


Treize found the breakfast Elsie cooked to be barely adequate, but didn't complain; nothing could dampen his spirits today, not even the constant drizzle outside. Elsie enjoyed complaining, but found nothing wrong with the gifts she received from the Count in exchange for her testimony, along with the promise that if Duo was convicted, she'd be 'chef de cuisine' as she should have been by rights all along. The fact that the woman really couldn't cook was beside the point.

The Count walked past Relena's room and rapped lightly on the doorframe, then poked his head into the frilly pink chamber to see his niece sitting on her bed hugging a pillow and looking very morose. "Relena my dear, it's time to go..."

"I'm not going," she mumbled into the pillow. "I can't show my face in the street ever again, what makes you think I could live down going to court?"

"We're _all_ going, my dear, it's an _event_. As soon as the boy is sent away, the court will see that it was all his fault and none of ours, and the manor will survive just as well as it always has. People will forget."

"No they won't!" she whimpered. "I might as well get used to rattling around in this drafty old house alone, because I can never leave, and nobody's ever coming to visit again, so just go to your little trial and leave me alone!"

Treize smiled faintly and shook his head; being older and wiser, he knew she'd get over it, and it really was the best thing for her. One way or the other, Heero would be easily toppled after today, he felt sure of that, and life would get a little bit easier for all of them. "I'll save you a spot in case you change your mind," he said gently, backing away from the door.

With that Treize left the girl to her sorrows and wound his way downstairs. At the foot of the grand staircase was a deputation of servants ready to go to the courthouse, huddled together and whispering, five altogether, including Heero. They broke apart and looked up at the Count with blank expressions, all except one, for only one of them knew who was really to blame for the court case to be presented that day. Heero quietly told them all to go on without him, promising Quatre especially that he hadn't given up, and they went out the front door obediently.

Treize and Heero stared at each other for awhile, until the Count came the rest of the way down the stairs, adjusting his cufflinks. "Not coming to watch, eh? I don't blame you...it's going to get rather...unpleasant." He towered over the boy and smirked. "It's still not too late to accept my offer, Mr. Yuy. Just say the word, and this court case goes away, just like that." He snapped his fingers an inch away from Heero's face, which didn't impress him.

"No deal," Heero said. "I'll get Duo out of this my own way."

"Little chance of that, I'm afraid," the Count said in feigned sadness, grabbing his white gloves and black overcoat. "You'll have to face it, before the end of this day, that you're just no competition for me in broad daylight." He lightly slapped Heero in the face with one glove before walking confidently out the door.

Heero exhaled violently as soon as he was gone, and had been extremely close to punching the man's lights out. He had a point, though; it seemed that when the sun was out, when there were no back-alley dealings and assassins to deal with under the cover of darkness, Treize had the advantage. He had money and power beyond Heero's capabilities to work within the law, and even if he were to go outside the law, he still couldn't match the Count's influence.

_....alone, that is._ Heero blinked and pondered that thought for awhile. _I'm not using all the resources available to me, that's why I'm not getting anywhere!_ He thought it over; it was risky, but if it worked, the payoff would be enormous. He checked his watch, then ran outside to tell Quatre he might be a little late getting to the trial.

**********  
  


Duo was brought to the courthouse in handcuffs, just one more indignity to add to a growing list, which also included a seemingly endless stream of taunts and catcalls thrown at him by the other prisoners as he was led away from his cell. Once inside the massive stone building, he was taken to the room in which his case would be tried that day, full of rich, dark wood in the form of benches, railings, desks, chairs, trimmings, and the little set of steps going up to the little closed-off area where he would spend most of the trial under guard. Above the judge's bench was the British flag and the crest of the royal family, and all around the room hung painted portraits of previous judges, officials of state, and one very large painting of Good Queen Vic herself.

The baliffs placed Duo in the prisoner's dock, a simple square platform with a chair and a wooden railing, and the handcuffs were removed. The courtroom was already beginning to fill up with spectators, and to Duo's delight, the back four rows on one side were quickly filled with a flock of teenagers, both boys and girls, that he used to hang out with while living on the streets. They all exchanged waves with Duo and, after asking which side of the courtroom was represented by the defense, sat on that side in a show of support.

Next came the general public, for whom trials of this nature were a form of entertainment, and then the Bridlewood crowd, consisting of Bethany, Hilde, Quatre and Trowa. Even Dr. Poole took time out of her schedule to offer the boy her moral support. _Relena must've stayed home out of sheer embarassment,_ Duo thought with a frown. _Thanks a lot._ The side of the room belonging to the prosecution was also filling up, and to no surprise, Treize and Wufei sat next to each other looking very pleased with themselves. Otto was there too, but a few rows back, and for reasons Treize chose to keep to himself, didn't appear on the witness list.

Lastly came Mr. Marlowe and two barristers, one of whom would be defending Duo. They both wore long dark robes and short, curly, white powdered wigs with black ribbons, as was the tradition of the English court. The skinnier of the two, a white-haired man who wore spectacles and had gaunt, chisleled features, went straight over to Treize and had a chat with him. The other barrister, a slightly stout but very tall man with a short salt-and-pepper beard and a fatherly smile, followed Mr. Marlowe up to see Duo.

"I'd like you to meet your barrister, Mr. Maxwell," Marlowe said from two feet below the dock. "This is Mr. William Spenser the third, he's going to represent your case before Judge Hampstead."

Mr. Spenser extended a hand up to Duo, who took it gratefully. "I've heard a great deal about you, young man, and I'd like to reassure you that it wasn't all bad press," he said warmly.

Duo smiled at him, relieved. "Thanks, that means a lot to me." He released the man's hand and ducked down to say something to him in secret. "Watch out for that big guy in the first row over there, the one with the 'I'll-do-what-I-want-cause-I'm-rich' haircut. This is all _his_ doing."

Spenser looked over at the first row of seats behind the prosecutor's desk, identified Treize, and smiled back at Duo. "Yes, I'm familiar with the Count to a degree. I won't let him pull one over on me, I promise you." He winked at the boy, and Duo finally felt optimistic about the day. A few feet away, a jury of his peers, twelve men of varying ages, filed into the jury box and looked him over with distaste.

When the courtroom was filled to capacity, the doors were shut, and at the stroke of nine, the case began. There was much pomp and ceremony involved, most of which Duo didn't understand; he just answered the questions asked of him and tried to pay attention as the court officials muddled through the usual customs. Judge Hampstead was a dour, curmudgeonly figure in a black robe, with a long white powdered wig that reached almost down to the top of his bench, and spectacles that perched on the end of his nose, giving him the appropriate air of superiority. Everyone was commanded to rise upon his entry, and could not sit again until he was seated.

"The case of the Crown versus Maxwell will now proceed...," the judge said slowly in a half-asleep voice. "The accused stands charged of gross indecency and solicitation of persons over the age of twenty-one to commit acts of sodomy in public places...the plea of 'not guilty' has been entered...Mr. Beecham, is the prosecution ready?"

The skinnier of the two barristers, the one who went to speak with Treize, looked up from his desk and nodded. "Yes, m'lord."

Such was the rather inauspicious start to a very gritty trial. At the Count's secret bidding, the prosecutor paraded six different 'gentlemen' in front of the jury to describe how Duo approached them at night in the street and offered them all manner of sexual favours for a shilling. Their stories were virtually identical, except for small variations in the services that were offered to them, and sometimes the pricing. Some said Duo had invited them to an opium den for activities they didn't even have proper words for, others claimed he would just take them to a dark alley and have a wide variety of lewd acts performed on him or by him if a bit of silver crossed his palm. The real Duo sat with a shocked and disgusted look on his face as he listened to all the festering details he never wanted to know being splashed into the ears of the jurors. It became so bad at one point that the judge halted the testimony to suggest that the ladies leave the room, although few of them actually did.

Mercifully, it couldn't last forever, and the torrent of lies spewed forth by Treize's cronies ended. The six witnesses had taken up most of the morning, and the judge needed rather badly to adjourn for the lunch hour, even though nobody had any appetite left. Afterwards, the participants marched back into the courtroom, and the case resumed with the prosecution running down their shrinking list of witnesses. Mr. Beecham rose and grasped his robe where normally one's suspenders would be, and brought the case back into full swing. "The prosecution calls Chang Wufei!"

"Calling Chang Wufei!" the clerk cried.

Wufei rose from his spot next to Treize in the gallery and made his way to the front of the courtroom to be sworn in. The judge took one look at him and his oriental features, took off his glasses, looked again, and gave the prosecutor a squinty glance. "Have you provided for an interpreter, Mr. Beecham?"

"No need, m'lord," Wufei said upon reaching the witness stand. "Mr. Beecham's diction isn't _that_ bad."

A few sporadic giggles flew through the courtroon, and the judge banged his gavel lightly once or twice to silence them. Wufei was sworn in without further incident, and the questioning began; the prosecutor remained where he stood and twiddled a fountain pen about in his fingers as he spoke.

"Are you, Chang Wufei, an interior decorator currently employed at Bridlewood Manor?"

"Yes, sir."

"Had you ever met the accused before your employment began?"

"No, sir."

"Think back to the time when you _did_ first meet the accused. Would you have described him then as an effeminate character?"

Mr. Spenser immediately rose from his chair. "I protest, m'lord, counsel is leading the witness..."

"I'll rephrase the question," Mr. Beecham said quickly, holding up a hand to the judge. "What were your first impressions of Mr. Maxwell?"

Wufei looked over at Duo, smirked, and turned back to the prosecutor. "Quite simple, really. I thought he was a girl. I saw him from the back, with his hair hanging down like a bellpull, and I thought it was a girl wearing trousers. Only when he turned around and actually spoke to me did I hear his voice and decide otherwise...but that hair is difficult to ignore."

"I see." Mr. Beecham put down his pen and grasped the front of his robe, in the same place he did before. "Mr. Chang, would you kindly tell the court what you saw on the night of October 17th?"

"Of course," Wufei said pleasantly, catching an approving glance from Treize. "I was decorating a room in the manor and was suddenly stumped for ideas, the way writers suffer from writers' block, so I went for a walk. I wasn't aiming for any particular place, but I happened upon a set of railroad tracks that crossed a dried-up creek. It was dark and rainy, but clear enough to see."

Wufei paused, then looked straight at Duo as he continued his tale. "I saw the accused and another young man on the railroad tracks. As they moved away from the tracks and closer to where I was standing, I became sure that it was Mr. Maxwell, but the other gentleman's back was turned, and I couldn't recognize him."Duo noted with bitterness that he deliberately avoided using Heero's name, just as he left out the entire story of how they nearly died under the wheels of the train.

"What else did you observe that night?" the prosecutor asked.

"I saw, _very_ clearly, that the accused embraced this other young man and kissed him." At Wufei's words, the courtroom murmured their disapproval; Trowa and Quatre looked at each other, both silently wondering who the other young man could have been, if it was true at all. Quatre paid close attention to Duo throughout the proceedings and could sense when he felt guilt and when he did not, and at that moment, slight trickles of guilt over the mysterious kiss did not escape the gardener's attention.

"You're quite certain that it was Mr. Maxwell you saw?" Mr. Beecham asked again. In the background, Hilde suddenly leaned forward over the back of the bench in front of her and whispered something in Mr. Marlowe's ear. Then Marlowe leaned forward and whispered something in Mr. Spenser's ear.

"Absolutely," Wufei said with conviction. "As I said, that hair of his is difficult to ignore...or forget."

"Thank you, sir," Mr. Beecham concluded, sitting down. "Nothing further, m'lord."

Mr. Spenser stood and left his desk to wander in front of the witness box. "And you have no idea who the other young man was, Mr. Chang?" he asked.

"None whatsoever."

"Do you see anyone resembling the gentleman in this courtroom today?" Spenser said, making a sweeping gesture towards the gallery.

Wufei made an honest attempt to locate Heero in the gallery, even though he was under strict instructions not to identify him, but the boy was nowhere to be seen. "No, sir."

"Could you..._describe_ the young man to us?"

Wufei squinted and leaned back. "...it _was_ rather dark out."

"But you recognized the accused," Spenser said, pointing to Duo, "so surely you could give us _some_ idea. How tall was he? Up to here?" He held his hand up at about ear-level, which was fairy high on such a tall man.

"...no, shorter," Wufei said.

"Up to here?" Spenser asked, lowering the hand to shoulder-level.

"...yes, I suppose so." The boy was feeling cornered, but couldn't understand why.

Spenser nodded, moving in front of him to block his view of Treize. "Was he a heavy man? Or slender?"

Treize looked suspiciously at the defense counsel, as did Duo. "Thin, very thin," Wufei stammered. He wasn't supposed to lead anyone to believe it was Heero, but in the back of his mind, he knew he could put Heero in jail too if he wanted, regardless of Treize's plan. The resulting confusion actually forced him to tell the truth.

"And what about his hair? Was it straight, or wavy? Dark, or fair?"

Wufei didn't see Treize's sharp glare as he answered, helplessly impaled on Mr. Spenser's imposing gaze. "Well...short, dark hair...a bit spiky at the front...that's all, really," he ended with a shrug.

"So you saw a shortish, slender person, with short dark hair that was a bit spiky at the front, is that correct?" As Mr. Spenser summed it up, the prosecutor fingered his pen, looking for a place to object to the odd line of questioning.

"That's what I said, isn't it?" Wufei snapped impatiently.

Spenser glanced up at the judge. "If I may indulge the court, m'lord?"

"You may," the judge said in his typical tired voice.

Mr. Spenser turned to the gallery and nodded to someone in the second row. To everyone's surprise, Hilde stood, squeezed past the other people in her row, and came to stand next to Mr. Spenser. The barrister raised his hand to shoulder-level, and Hilde fit very nicely underneath. "Mr. Chang, do you deny that this young lady is a shortish, slender person with short dark hair that is a bit spiky at the front?"

"I must protest, m'lord," Mr. Beecham declared, rising. "What has this to do with the case at hand?"

"I am merely trying to demonstrate that, accurate as Mr. Chang's eyesight and memory may be," Spenser replied, "he cannot be one hundred percent certain that the person he saw Mr. Maxwell kiss was necessarily a man! If all he can give us is a vague description, how can _any_ of us be sure of what he saw?"

The judge nodded. "Logical. Proceed, Mr. Spenser."

Mr. Beecham sat down with a sigh, and Mr. Spenser turned back to Wufei. Hilde was still standing very quietly under the barrister's hand, and could feel Duo's eyes on the side of her face, begging her to look his way and give some indication of what was going on, but she didn't move.

"If we might continue, Mr. Chang," Spenser said with a smile, "are you absolutely _sure_ of what you saw?"

"Of course I am!" Wufei scoffed angrily. "I _do_ know the difference between men and women, and the same accurate eyesight and memory that told me the man's height and hairstyle also told me that he was wearing trousers! Explain that if you can!"

"Thank you, Mr. Chang," Spenser said, walking away from Hilde and towards the witness stand, "I will." He took up the same position as before, standing precisely between him and Treize. "You said yourself that the first time you saw the accused, you thought he was a girl wearing trousers. Are you now saying it is impossible that you might have seen Mr. Maxwell kiss a girl wearing trousers by the railroad tracks? You seem to think girls can wear trousers anytime they like, or you wouldn't have made such an assumption in the first place!"

More murmurs resounded through the courtroom, and Duo's expression brightened as he saw his champion punch a sizeable hole in the shield that was Wufei's testimony. "Which was it, Mr. Chang?" Spenser asked pointedly. "Did you see a man, or a girl wearing trousers?"

Wufei glowered, then slumped against the wooden railing, defeated. Behind the prosecution's bench, Treize looked equally miserable.

**********  
  


Aided by clearer knowledge of the route to take and an earlier train, Heero made the journey from London to Cloverderry Glen in record time, mind reeling with anxieties over what to say and how to act. As he rode from the train station into the tiny village, he began to worry that because there was so much as stake, he might forget protocol and act on instinct, which could be disastrous.

Heero left his carriage and driver in the center of town, outside the post office. He checked his pocketwatch; it was just past eleven, so if he made this quick, he could be back in London by tea time. Trying to look inconspicuous to the townsfolk, he walked very casually to the border of the village, where Noin had taken him before, but as soon as he was far enough down the dirt path not to be seen, he broke into a run, dashing towards the cottage by the mill wheel with gazelle-like strides. The rain had ended, but the path was still muddy, and he was lucky not to have slipped and fallen given his rate of speed. As he passed by the crumbling stone wall, he was unaware of the shabbily-dressed man with round spectacles and mushroom-shaped hair crouched down behind it, watching him.

Ignoring the ache in his limbs and back, as well as the repelling force the cottage exerted on his psyche, he ran straight up to the door, thrashing aside the tall weeds and jerking the doorhandle about with tremendous force. The door was locked, but Heero wasn't keen on climbing in through the window, so he kicked it in.

The cottage was darker than usual inside; not even the orange glow marking the location of the stairs was evident, and Heero cursed himself for not bringing any matches. He tried to make his way to where the stairs used to be, but everything on the main floor had been moved, not much but just enough so that he bumped into unidentifiable thing after thing along the way. Finally, he reached the stairs and hurled himself down into the inky blackness two steps at a time.

There was no light, no sound, no vibration to indicate that anyone was near. Heero listened in all directions, then grew impatient. "Where are you!?" he shouted. No reply came.

He tried to remember where the nearest light or lantern was, but everything on the lower level had been slightly moved also, and he continued to stumble around blindly. Suddenly, there was a short click, and a white hot light that burned like a thousand suns shone directly into Heero's eyes. It seared his vision and sent him cowering backwards into a stack of boxes that collapsed around him as he tumbled to the floor.

"You weren't invited here," the familiar gravelly voice thundered.

Heero somehow knew the bright light would stay on until he made some small gesture of supplicance. "Forgive me," he called out quietly, holding a hand up against the light, "but I had to come. I had to ask you for--" His request was cut off by another click; the light doubled in intensity, so much that it even hurt with his eyes closed. He buried his face in his hands and could faintly hear soft footsteps travelling around him, but his senses were overloaded, and he couldn't glance up even to see whose they were.

"You ask nothing of me," the voice boomed. "You belong to me and are well provided for. What presumptuousness is _this_, that you should come here _asking_ for things?"

Blinking away the piercing white haze, Heero's eyes slowly recovered from the shock, and he realized that the bright light had been turned off. In its stead, more than a dozen gas lanterns all around the cavernous room had been lit, all at once, giving the underground chamber its characteristic orange glow.

Heero now saw that he was on his knees in a pile of knocked-over papers, but they were of no consquence to him. He twisted around at the waist and saw Lord Jeffrhyss seated behind him, in front of his beloved chessboard, staring hypnotically at the pieces. The boy rose and turned to face his master, but was silent, remembering the penalty for talking out of turn.

Jeffrhyss balanced his hand and his hook on the heavy wooden cane and inhaled deeply. "You want me to save the Maxwell boy."

Heero tipped his head humbly towards the floor and gazed down at it silently, hands at his sides and standing ramrod straight. As he suspected, his volatile instincts had gotten him into trouble, but as yet, the damage wasn't too bad.

"I've read something of the case against him," Jeffrhyss said. "I find it surprising that you would ally yourself with such a character."

"Master," Heero said softly, eyes still down, "may I speak?"

Jeffrhyss continued to stare at the chessboard, deliberately creating a long, tense silence before deciding. "You may."

"The charges against Duo are false," the boy explained, "part of Khushrenada's ongoing effort to intimidate me. In spite of what you may have heard, he's not the person the papers say he is."

"And this is meant to be his excuse for distracting you from your mission?"

"He wasn't distracting me, he was _helping_ me," Heero insisted. "I uncovered information about my target that I couldn't have obtained without his help."

"You've never needed help before...so instead of distracting you, this boy has replaced your training. Even better," Jeffrhyss scoffed bitterly. "How much have you told him about our organization?"

"Very little."

"Too much." Jeffrhyss hoisted himself out of the chair with his cane and finally looked his agent over with disappointment. "You have all that you require to complete your task." He turned away, heading for one of the heavy wooden doors around the perimeter of the room.

Heero looked up, unable to believe that this was all Jeffrhyss had to say on the matter. "Wait!"

Jeffrhyss turned around slowly, frightfully slowly, hand tensing around his cane as if subtlely gauging how far he could throw it. Being too far away from the bright light to use it again, he stopped and gave Heero a brief opportunity to explain his impudence.

"Is that it?" the boy asked with an incredulous look. "I took a great risk coming here at all, and every minute I delay is putting Duo in greater danger! If he goes to prison, Treize has all but assured me that he won't make it out alive! Half of the financial reconaissance we _have_ on Treize, we have because of Duo! Does that mean nothing to you?"

Jeffrhyss flexed his hand around the cane, stalling until he was calm enough to respond civilly. "If he was foolish enough to associate himself with you after hearing what I assume you told him about yourself, then his fate is justified. If you have allowed your abilities to rot to the point where you _need_ his assistance to complete even the simplest of tasks, then your fate is also justifed."

"You instructed me to form whatever alliances were beneficial to my work!" Heero protested. "You might be the most powerful man in England right now, and you won't use even a small portion of your influence to preserve my most valuable alliance? _Why?_"

The old man said nothing. He peered at the boy through his dark spectacles for a moment or two, then turned to leave, silently declaring the subject closed.

Heero took a dangerous step forward. "If you don't help me, I won't go back." Lord Jeffrhyss paused, and when the boy saw he'd struck a nerve, he elaborated on his threat. "I will halt the investigation and never return to Bridlewood," he spat. "Send anyone you wish to terminate me, but we both know I'm the best agent this organization has ever seen, and no one else will _ever_ get near me. Do this _one_ thing that I ask...or our partnership is finished."

Jeffrhyss glared. The impertinence of making demands and backing them up with threats against other agents was bad enough, but the implication of the word 'partnership', that the two of them might actually aspire to be equals, was blasphemous. With a barely detectable snort of disgust, he turned and began walking away a second time.

Heero's eyes widened. After making the best argument possible, he couldn't believe that he wasn't getting through. He thought again of Duo wasting away in prison, making little rocks out of big rocks until his term expired or _he_ expired, and something in him broke. Without a second's thought, he grabbed the first thing that came to hand, a heavy globe of marble, larger than a man's fist and flattened on one side to make it a paperweight. "Listen to me!!" he shouted, and he hurled the globe past his master's head. It collided with the opposite wall, knocking off pictures and shelving, and leaving a sizable dent.

Jeffrhyss spun around and fixed his gaze on the source of the projectile, then took the action he would only use as a last resort when alone and threatened by his own creation--he removed the dark spectacles.

Underneath the circles of darkened glass were the eyes of a demon, with rings of pale, sickly yellow-green filled in on either side by blood, unparalleled in their ugliness. It was a hideous sight that Heero had not been consciously exposed to since he was a tiny child, alone and frightened, wondering what had become of his mother and father. The red and green glare paralyzed him through unknown means, and he was frozen in place as Jeffrhyss hung the spectacles on his hook and strode menacingly towards him.

All of Heero's senses shut down in one direction, still transmitting information but not allowing him to move, speak, or even breathe as he felt Jeffrhyss' rough, wrinkled hand close around his throat. The old man squeezed the boy's neck as a warning, keeping him transfixed on his terrifying gaze, and with a mighty shove, flung Heero's small body away from him into a cluster of furniture and wooden crates.

He crashed to the floor a coughing wreck, released from the trance as soon as eye contact between the pair was broken, and clutched at his throat, remembering with revulsion why he loathed to be touched, especially by his master. Reminded once again that Lord Jeffrhyss was stronger than he looked, Heero stayed very still and listened to the footsteps travelling around the room.

When he finally looked up, Jeffrhyss was back in his usual chair. _Encouraging,_ he thought, for if his Lordship wasn't willing to listen to the next offer, he would have left the room after all, as seemed to be his earlier choice. Taking no more chances, Heero crawled to the massive armchair and, placing his right hand up on the carved oak armrest, tucked himself into a crouch on one knee with his head bowed in surrender; Jeffrhyss preferred him that way.

Heero drew a shallow breath and stared at the floor. "He's my friend....._please._"

His Lordship had put the dark spectacles back on, and glanced casually between the kneeling boy and his chessboard. He picked up a particular black pawn, one he often studied, and pursed his thin lips in thought. "They said I couldn't create an agent that would be impervious to the influences of the world...that no human could be taught to be completely detached from it, while maintaining total obedience from within it. I refuse to accept failure this early." He put the pawn back down gently. "Look at me, boy."

Heero slowly looked up. The old man reached to his right, to a potted flower with broad red petals, and plucked the bloom off its stem. Heero glanced around quickly and saw that it was one of the dozens of similar plants, in varying stages of development, that were clumped in a corner of the room.

Jeffrhyss cradled the crimson flower in his good hand. "I'm disappointed in you, not merely for your uncontrolled outbursts, but for the way you allowed yourself to be tainted so soon after your reconditioning. I will help your friend...but only if you submit to a change in your training, something that will strengthen my hold over you." He fingered the blood red petals, and seemed to be withholding details of the change until the test subject agreed to the experiment. "What is your answer?"

Staring wearily at the flower, Heero pondered the choice before him, which was hardly a fair one. _How can I possibly choose without knowing what my options really are? He won't tell me what it is until I say yes...what if the price is too high?_ He remembered with terrible guilt the reason why he came, and steeled himself. _This is for Duo. There is no price too high._ "I accept."

Jeffrhyss gave no indication of delight or displeasure. "Then tell me the name of the judge trying the case, and we'll begin."

**********  
  


The prosecution's presentation was coming to a close, and Mr. Beecham called his final witness. "I call Miss Elsie Farmer, m'lord."

"Calling Elsie Farmer!" came the clerk's shout. Elsie came up from somewhere in the back of the gallery and walked up the aisle, avoiding the eyes of the four servants seated two rows behind the defense counsel. Bethany, in particular, gave her a surprisingly vicious glare for selling out to the other side, running a cool eye over the splendid new dress she wore.

Elsie was sworn in and took the stand, casting no eye whatsoever in Duo's direction. Mr. Beecham walked over to her and smiled genially. "What is your occupation at Bridlewood Manor, Miss Farmer?"

"'Ousemaid, sir," the cockney woman said simply.

"And where in the house do you work?"

Elsie counted off her numerous duties on her well-worn fingers. "Parlours, front 'all, upstairs study, guestrooms, drawin' room, polishin' brass, puttin' fresh soap in the--"

"That's fine, Miss Farmer," the prosecutor said, holding up a hand to stop her, "and where do you sleep? On the main floor?"

"Oh, no sir," Elsie said with a shake of her head. "Indoor staff sleeps upstairs in the attic."

"Is Mr. Maxwell indoor staff as well?" Mr. Beecham asked.

Elsie nodded. 'Yes sir, 'e sleeps in the attic too. I know a lot about it, 'cause 'is room's right next to mine, y'see."

With a sidelong glance at Treize, Mr. Beecham stepped over to the jury box and placed a hand on the railing. "Does Mr. Maxwell have a private room?"

"No, sir," Elsie said proudly, straightening up as she prepared to deliver her keynote speech. "'E shares that room wif' another member of the staff..." She leaned towards the jury and gave them a wide-eyed look as if she were letting them in on the secret of the century. "With a _gentleman_ member of the staff!"

Duo glared. _Cow. You're just jealous because I unlocked the secret to perfect Yorkshire pudding and you didn't!_

In the bench behind Mr. Marlowe, Bethany and Hilde whispered back and forth, then whispered something to Marlowe, who passed the message on to Mr. Spenser. The bearded barrister nodded and added the information to his inner library.

"And what could be so significant about sharing a simple room for me to tear you away from your highly valuable duties to come here today?" Beecham asked with a clever grin.

"There's two o' them in that room, and two beds in that room, but they only use _one_," Elsie said in a gossipy tone, leaning towards the jury again. The gallery burst into more furtive rumblings, and Duo fidgeted nervously in the dock. Trowa, Quatre and Hilde looked desperately at each other; they knew the innocent reason why that was true, but they had a funny feeling the prosecutor wasn't going to mention it. "I know 'cause I'm the one what does the washin'," Elsie continued, "and the beds is diff'rent sizes. Only one of 'em ever gets the linens changed."

Hilde gasped. "She's lying!" the girl whispered. "I'm the laundry maid! Elsie never goes near that room!"

Quatre gave her arm a comforting squeeze. "I know," he whispered back, "but she didn't come up with this by herself. Someone told her to say that."

"No further questions, m'lord," the prosecutor said, returning to his desk.

Mr. Spenser stood and walked over to the woman, scratching his beard. "Miss Farmer...how many indoor staff sleep in the attic?"

"Me an' three other maids, plus them two in th'other room," Elsie replied, jerking her head in Duo's direction.

"I see, and how many bedrooms in the attic are occupied by the indoor staff?"

Elsie shrugged. "Just two."

"Just two." Spenser went to the jury box and leaned against the railing at the same place Beecham had. "That puts four housemaids in the same room, by rule of simple arithmetic. How many beds are in that room, Miss Farmer?"

"...three...no, wait, four. There's four."

"Why the hesitation, Miss Farmer? Why the uncertainty? Is it three, or is it four?"

Treize was suddenly quite agitated; something was going slightly wrong with Elsie, he could feel it, but he couldn't put his finger on the problem. He also couldn't make eye contact with her, as Mr. Spenser chose that moment to step between him and his witness once again.

Elsie fidgeted and twisted a bit of ribbon on her new dress. "Well...there's four...but we only use three...on account of one's got a wonky leg, an' it wobbles summat awful."

"So, simple arithmetic also tells us that two housemaids are currently sleeping in one bed, unless one of you is content to sleep on the floor," Spenser said, mostly to the jury, "and curiously enough, no one has accused the housemaids of any impropriety. Is it not possible that the unoccupied bed in Mr. Maxwell's room has...a 'wonky leg'?"

Treize scowled and Elsie pouted. "S'pose so."

Mr. Spenser looked over his shoulder at Treize, then back at Elsie, taking in every detail of her beautiful blue frock and matching cape. "That's a lovely dress, Miss Farmer. Is it new?"

Mr. Beecham was on his feet instantly. "I protest!"

Spenser ignored him. "It looks _very_ expensive, Miss Farmer. However could you afford it on a housemaid's wages?"

"M'lord, I protest most strongly!" Beecham shouted.

"Cheerfully withdrawn, m'lord!" Spenser said with a smile, walking back to his desk. "Nothing further for this witness."

Elsie made a face like she'd just lost the cost of her dress betting on the wrong horse, and some tiny bits of laughter resounded at the back of the courtroon. She was allowed to leave the witness stand, and gave Treize a small but doleful look on the way back to her seat. Duo watched them both carefully, then wrinkled his nose at Treize as soon as their eyes met.

**********  
  


Some time after he arrived, Heero stepped gingerly out of the cottage and into the streaky sunshine breaking through mottled grey clouds, squinting uncomfortably. He vaguely remembered needing to get back to London for something, but at that moment, it was difficult to know precisely what. He felt something flat and smooth in his right hand and looked down at it; he was carrying some folded papers, one with a shiny seal and a colourful crest on it, but couldn't recall what they were or where they came from. Numbly and with slow, unsure fingers, he tucked them into his inside coat pocket and walked unsteadily away from the cottage.

Just behind a nearby hedge, the mushroom-haired man peeked out at the boy and instantly knew something was wrong. He had gone into the cottage able and alert, but seemed to have come out a near vegetable. He wanted very much to get closer and have a look at his pupils, check his pulse, and test a few of the lad's formerly sharp reflexes, but now wasn't the time. It would be better to let him stumble down his chosen path for the time being, the mushroom-haired man decided...but he intended to have some strong words with Jeffrhyss later on.

With each step Heero took down the path towards the village, he became more coherent by a small degree. By the time he reached the carriage he took there and corralled its driver, he could remember his own name. Halfway to the train station, he remembered Duo and the trouble he was in.

Riding the train itself brought about a greater revelation, the very recent memory of kneeling at a low table in front of a wide dish filled with a smouldering substance. He felt an old, wrinkled hand on the back of his head, pushing his face closer to the billows of thick, putrid smoke that made him gag and choke helplessly, and the slow loss of his mental faculties as the chemicals in the smoke worked their chosen magic. By the time he reached London, Heero realized that the broad-petalled flowers Lord Jeffrhyss was cultivating were poppies...very peculiar poppies.

**********  
  


At last, the defense was given the opportunity to present its own witnesses, and first up was none other than Dorothy. When Marlowe had described her role in the case, she hadn't even been that interested in whose side she represented, but once he told her what the topic would be and how many people would be paying attention to her, she agreed in a heartbeat.

The blonde Baroness stood very regally before the court in one of her finer satin gowns, in a pale green with dark embroidery around the collar and buttons. She enjoyed having so many pairs of eyes drinking in her beauty all at once, and flashed gleaming smiles around the gallery during pauses in the conversation.

"What is your role at the manor, m'lady?" the defense counsel asked.

"I'm lady's maid to Lady Peacraft, of couse," Dorothy delcared proudly, "a friend and confidante, style advisor, fashion consultant, events co-ordinator--"

"Yes, yes, m'lady," Spenser interrupted genially. "Now, we have heard testimony that the accused has been sharing a bed in the attic with another male member of the staff for some time, specifically..." He paused to look down at some papers on his desk. "...since the 30th of September. Can you tell us, m'lady, what happened on that date?"

"Indeed I can!" Dorothy said, beaming. "My precious Anna Maria had her first litter of kittens!" She grinned and squeaked with pride, coaxing some 'aww's from the crowd. Dorothy leaned forward and addressed the gallery brightly. "All of which will be available for adoption at a _minimal_ fee in three weeks' time, and I would advise anyone interested to hurry and reserve a kitten, sired by Jacques de Montpellier, purebred Turkish Angora, five times Parisian Grand Champion!"

The gallery chuckled goodnaturedly at the sales pitch, and the judge banged his gavel a bit to silence them. Spenser smiled, glad to have the obligatory promotional part of her answer out of the way. "Yes, we're all quite pleased for you, m'lady. Now, could you please tell the court precisely _where_ in the house these kittens are to be found?"

"Yes, they're in the servants' quarters in the attic," Dorothy said with only a small hesitation.

"Let us be absolutely clear about this, m'lady...by 'servants quarters', do you mean the bedchamber of the accused, Mr. Maxwell?"

Dorothy was slow to admit it, but eventually gave in. "Yes, that's correct, although I don't know _what_ Anna Maria was thinking, choosing that lower-class little hole in the wall..." Again, a small surge of laughter was faintly heard at the back row.

"Are the kittens housed in a box or crate in the usual manner?" the barrister asked.

"Certainly not!" Dorothy scoffed. "Credit her with _some_ taste! As soon as she chose the room, she immiediately appropriated one of the beds for herself, which I'm confident must have been the _softer_ of the two. She simply wouldn't stand for anything less!"

"So your cat gave birth to a litter of kittens in one bed, forcing the two servants who shared that room to both sleep in the other bed, is that correct?"

Dorothy looked up and to the side, thinking; she had never actually considered the consequences of her cat's actions before. Once Anna Maria's needs were taken care of, everything else was secondary. "I suppose so, but it would be for a _very_ worthy cause. My baby must be allowed to have whatever she wants, and if she wanted a bed in the attic, I should think it was very gallant of the boys to give it to her without question." She folded her hands and lifted her head proudly. "Granted, I would have preferred it if she had chosen one of the nicer guest suites, but...what rebellious young girl _ever_ listened to the advice of her mother?"

The Baroness smiled and the courtroom chuckled. Treize seemed neither one way or the other about her testimony, and must have thought it inconsequential compared to what lay ahead.

"Thank you, m'lady," Spenser said, turning to the prosecutor. "Your witness."

Mr. Beecham rose behind his desk and clasped the front of his robe again. "Madam Baroness, wouldn't it have been so much simpler to just move the kittens as soon as they were old enough to be moved? Even I know that they should be walking around by now, so it can't possibly harm them."

Dorothy gave the man a frosty look. "Anna Maria doesn't want them moved, and my baby gets everything she wants, whenever she wants! I'm not going to tell her she and her new family have to pick up and move, and if you tried it, you'd have a face full of scratches in about three seconds, because nobody, but _nobody_, tells my Anna Maria what to do!"

The gallery chuckled warmly again, and Mr. Beecham found himself up against a brick wall. "No further questions, m'lord."

"The witness may step down," the judge boomed.

Dorothy looked terribly disappointed. "You mean...I'm done already?" She turned to the judge and batted her eyelashes at him shamelessly. "Couldn't I stay up here a bit longer and talk about the kittens some more?"

The judge balanced his spectacles on the end of his nose and looked down at her disapprovingly. "The witness may step _down_ now."

She frowned, turned, and flipped her hair over her shoulder at the insolent judge as she left the witness stand, amongst more tittering giggles from the gallery. Duo and Mr. Marlowe looked at each other tensely; her story added logic to the case, but her attitude wasn't the best, and they couldn't be sure if her testimony would help their case or hurt it.

**********  
  


In the newly-redecorated drawing room, Relena sat for uncounted hours in a row, sipping tea and fretting over Bridlewood's future. The entire rest of the household was at the Crown courthouse, except for Doris and Arthur, who had stayed behind to watch over her Ladyship, and Heero, who had disappeared and abandoned her once again.

_Why does he keep leaving me just when I need him most?_ she thought mournfully as she dried her eyes on her handkerchief. _He seems to care for me...sometimes...but he picks the most awful times to run away..._ She looked up suddenly, startled at her assumption. _Run away...is he running from me? What did I do to drive him off? Why can't he stay and talk things out with me?_

A gentle knock came at the drawing room door, and Doris peeked inside. "Finished with your tea, m'lady?" she asked softly.

Relena nodded, sniffling still. "Yes, I think so," she answered, looking over the tray of cold tea and half-eaten biscuits. "Take them away, please."

Doris entered the splendid new drawing room and shut the door, but made no move to pick up the tea set. Instead, she walked over to the blue velvet cushioned sofa where Relena was sitting, and sat down next to her. "Now, you've hardly eaten all day," she said, "you'll waste away to nothing if you keep this up."

Relena looked into the kind eyes of the gray-haired housemaid and sighed. "What are we going to do, Doris? How are we going to live? This beautiful room was going to herald the beginning of a golden age for Bridlewood, with endless parties and tea dances, and we would have had all the most desirable people in London coming to visit. Who's going to visit us now? Who would even set _foot_ in this house knowing what's been going on here!?" She sniffled and brushed away fresh tears. "I was really looking forward to the bonfire tonight, too...now that's ruined, along with everything else. Nobody will come...they'll all spend Guy Fawkes Night at some other house that still has their reputation in tact...not in tatters, like ours..."

Doris folded her hands and sat up straight, looking down at the girl. "My dear...I know I can't speak for your dear mother, but I feel confident in saying that if she _were_ here, she'd be most disappointed."

"I know," Relena whimpered, "but you just can't get the right sort of staff anymore, can you?"

"I don't mean disappointed in the staff, m'lady," the old woman said in a motherly tone, "I mean disappointed in you."

Relena gasped and clutched her handkerchief to her chest, eyes wide at the woman. "Doris! What a hateful thing to say!"

Doris shook her head firmly. "It's not hateful, it's the truth. You may not remember, but your mother was a lovely woman with a kind and generous heart, and she never put the status of the manor ahead of the _people_ in the manor. She had wealth and class and fame, all the things you treasure so deeply, but she never lost sight of the people that helped her get them. Now, you're still quite young, and you've a great deal to learn about what it means to be Lady of Bridlewood, but if she were here, I'm sure she'd tell you to consider what makes this house _truly_ special."

The old woman paused, then looked away from Relena and into blank space, as she brought up memories that had been buried for too long. "Many years ago, when your mother was but a young woman, we had a hall porter with a limp, a boy named Thomas. He used to take visitor's bags up to their rooms and show guests around the house. One day, a Welsh gentleman came to stay with us, a nobleman who had an emerald tie pin which he always wore no matter where he went. He was an acquaintance of your grandfather and came to London on business, and Lord Peacecraft insisted that he stay here rather than go to a hotel.

"The day before the gentleman's departure, his emerald tie pin went missing. 'There's the culprit!' he shouted, and pointed to young Thomas. 'He was mucking about with my luggage! He must have taken it to sell down the pawn shop! After all, how much can he possibly earn with a limp like that?' Thomas swore blind that he didn't take the tie pin, and they even searched his room without finding it. No one knew where it had gone.

"The Welsh gentleman demanded that he be repaid the value of the pin out of Thomas' wages, and that the boy be sacked, if not immediately handed over to the authorities. Your mother stood right behind Thomas then and there and said, 'See here, if I had accidentally dropped your pin down the heating grate or into a crack in the floorboards, would you demand that _I_ be taken to the authorities for it?'

"'Of course not,' the man said, 'but you're the _lady_ of the house, and there is quite a bit of difference.' Her Ladyship was _incensed_, stood toe-to-toe with the man, and mind you, he was a good foot or more taller than she, and said, 'You can easily afford a dozen emerald pins like the one you lost, but we only have _one_ Thomas, and we're not letting him go for anything so trivial as a tiny piece of jewellry!'" Doris looked back down at Relena, whose eyes had lost their angry sheen. "Valued servants of Bridlewood have always been treated like family, and if one of our family is threatened, we stand behind them, no matter how strong and fearsome the opposition may be. That's what your mother would do again if she were here, because we only have one Duo...and that's what I believe she'd want you to do now."

Relena was dumbstruck. No one had ever told her that her mother might possibly disapprove of the way she was running the estate, and the shock was just working its way through her arms and legs, such that she found she couldn't move.

"Go on," Doris entreated, "ask yourself who it _really_ was who made your soirées and dinner parties such a success. Who prepared all those nibbles for your roomwarming party? Who cooks those lovely hot meals for you night after night after night? Who got up at four in the morning to make you some cocoa because you couldn't sleep? That dear boy sitting in the courthouse across town, that's who. He's been very kind to this family, working long hours for criminally low wages...he does the best job he possibly can, and he does it without complaining. Doesn't this house owe him a little more than what he's getting?"

Relena's eyes were downcast, intensely studying the pattern in the carpet because it was so much easier than making a decision for herself. The painful truth was, Doris wasn't about to let her up from that sofa until a decision was made.

**********  
  


Duo tried to concentrate on everything being said in the courtroom, though the court officials often lapsed into a sort of legalese he couldn't translate. More and more often, he lost track of the proceedings and wondered where Heero was. It was starting to worry him, and so did the looks he kept getting from the jury; occasionally, the trial seemed to be going his way, but he only had to look into their eyes to see that all twelve men had already decided he was a spawn of Satan, worthy only of the gutter.

Even when things did go his way, he didn't really like how it happened. _Everything Wufei said was true...most of what Elsie said was true...and the only way I can win is to make the jury believe they both lied? There's something really wrong with that. I told Heero I couldn't fight this thing honestly! And did he listen? Nooooo!_ He looked at his supporters, all seated behind Mr. Spenser and paying dutiful attention. _After everything I've told them about the value of telling the truth, would it be right for me to be acquitted because of a lie?_

The moral dilemma could only occupy Duo for so long before he started to worry about Heero again. _He promised he'd be here to help...where is he?_ The chef looked nervously at Treize and thought about all the testimony he had heard that morning; even he had to admit that it could sound very convincing if taken as the whole truth. _Suppose Treize told Heero something that convinced him I deserve to go to jail? Suppose he thinks I'm guilty and decided to split while he had the chance?_ He wrung the edges of his tweed coat with both hands, mired in doubt and despair. The prospect that Heero might abandon him, paranoid as it was, could not be counted out as impossible, and Duo's stomach clenched in fear.

Suddenly, there seemed to be some action in the courtroom. Both barristers had been having a quiet word with the judge, and something appeared to have been decided. After the men retook their positions, the judge took his spectacles off again and addressed the court.

"Under the circumstances, I am going to allow the testimony of a witness not on either barrister's list, with the understanding that the prosecutor may question the witness as usual." He nodded to Mr. Spenser. "Call your witness."

"The defense calls Miss Hilde Schbeiker."

"Calling Hilde Schbeiker!" the clerk shouted.

Duo looked at her with surprise as she left the gallery once again and walked quietly to the witness stand to be sworn in. He couldn't think of anything she could say that would sway the jury in his favour; in fact, the kinds of things she knew about him could put him away for good, but he trusted her more than that.

"How long have you lived at the manor, Miss Schbeiker?"

"Three months, sir."

"And what is your occupation there?"

"Scullery maid, sir. I help out in the kitchen." She deliberately withheld the laundry portion of her duties; even if she didn't agree with Elsie's testimony, conflicting with it openly could weaken her own position.

"How long have you known the accused?"

"Years and years," Hilde said with fondness. "We knew each other when we were children, and we've always kept in touch."

Spenser nodded thoughtfully and wandered in front of the jury. "Would you say that the two of you are...close?"

Hilde smiled sweetly and ducked her head a little, blushing and peeking at Duo out of the corner of her eye. "Yes...very close...and not only that, but I've come to respect him a great deal. He taught me how important it is to always tell the truth."

Mr. Spenser slowly leaned against the jury box with both hands and looked each of the twelve men in the eye. "Miss Schbeiker...where were you the night of October 17th?"

Hilde lifted her head proudly and spoke in a clear, strong voice, "I was with Duo, at the railroad tracks." The courtroom erupted into shocked whispers as more threads were unravelled from the prosecution's tapestry. Duo shot straight up in his seat, unable to believe what he had just heard.

"We went for a stroll after dinner that night to talk," Hilde continued once the judge had called for silence. "Bridlewood Manor may look like a huge house, but it gets real small _real_ fast when you're trying to have a private conversation."

Some laughter was heard, and Mr. Spenser turned away from the jury as it died down. "What did you go there to talk about?"

Hilde smiled and blushed again. "Modesty forbids me from saying, sir...but I _can_ tell you that it was _me_ he kissed, not some boy."

Mr. Spenser smiled with satisfaction at the upbeat murmurs travelling through the gallery, as he considered how far he should take his questioning. Duo was aghast, numb from head to foot, and stared at the side of Hilde's head until she finally looked his way. _What are you doing!?_ he thought. _I don't want you to lie for me! Please!!_

The girl looked back at him, and as if she could read his mind, gave him a warm smile full of love and friendship that said she knew in her heart that this was the right thing to do. Hilde turned her attention back to Mr. Spenser, who stood with his back to the courtroom and tilted his head by the tiniest degree in the direction of the prosecutor. She answered him with a tiny nod.

"Your witness," the bearded man called to Mr. Beecham.

The prosecutor rose slowly and clutched his robe again, walking with measured steps towards the witness stand. "Miss Schbeiker...we have heard testimony that the..._person_...Mr. Maxwell kissed was wearing trousers. How do you account for this?"

"I wore a gentleman's suit that night, borrowed from another member of the staff," Hilde said plainly. "It had been raining, the place where we were going to was bound to be muddy, and I didn't want to ruin any of my dresses, since I have so few." She finished her statement looking directly at Elsie near the back row, who pouted and looked away.

Mr. Beecham pointed at Duo and raised his voice a little. "Did this same boy, who taught you to always tell the truth, also teach you that women should wear men's clothes? And that men should wear their hair long to look like women?"

Mr. Spenser rose. "Move to strike, m'lord!"

"So ordered," the judge said with a nod.

Mr. Beecham's question was blotted out of the record, but Hilde opted to answer it anyway. "Why should men dictate to us what we can and can't wear? It's all very well for men to say that skirts and dresses are more appropriate for us, because they don't have to _wear_ them, but it's the women of the world who are beginning to realize how impractical they really are! I'll dare any man in this courtroom to wear a dress for one day, and then they'll find out that there's no good way to ride a bicycle side-saddle!"

All the woman in the courtroom laughed and cheered heartily at the girl's challenge, and Sally Poole applauded loudest of all. The judge pounded the bench with his gavel, calling repeatedly for order until the ladies settled back down in their seats. Duo, Trowa and Quatre were all smiles.

"Miss Schbeiker and Mr. Beecham," the judge said sharply, "I remind you that this is a trial concerning the misdemeanor charge of gross indecency, not the women's suffrage movement. If you both wish to argue the point, I suggest you do so _outside_ the building, _after_ court is adjourned."

"I'm _terribly_ sorry, your honour," Hilde said in a sugary tone.

Mr. Beecham frowned. Without bantering back and forth about whether or not the witness was telling the truth, the question of attire was the only good argument he had. "Nothing more, m'lord," he said in a disappointed drawl.

Hilde looked at Duo and smiled, and he decided reluctantly that even though he fundementally didn't approve of what she did, he was very grateful, and probaby couldn't have convinced her to do otherwise even if he tried.

The prosecution retreated slightly to regroup before Duo took the stand in his own defense. During the short break in the action, there was a low rumbling outside the courtroom doors that grew by degrees, turning more and more heads in the gallery until the doors opened and the cause of the commotion was revealed. A girl was there in a maidenly pink dress, fine but not extravagant, standing at the entrance to the courtroom and flanked by two elderly people, a man and a woman. Gathered around them were several reporters and members of the press, taking down notes for their particular newspapers. Many of those in the gallery gasped and whispered amongst themselves as they recognized the visitor. Duo especially was in shock.

Ignoring the stares and whispers, Lady Relena Peacecraft sailed down the aisle with her eyes fixed on the royal crest of the late Queen Victoria hanging over the judiciary bench. Behind her and to her left walked Doris, and next to her walked Arthur, both wearing their Sunday best and fending off the pushy reporters. Two baliffs helped shove the mob back outside, and the doors were firmly shut.

The judge drummed his fingers on the bench, and with a cloying smile followed by an impatient scowl, waved the girl an invitation to take a seat. Relena looked to one side and saw the rest of her staff, all seated behing the defense attorneys and looking up at her with surprise and doubt. To her other side, seated on the side of the prosecution, were Treize and Wufei.

Treize smiled widely as his little niece, who pondered the space left on the bench next to him, just enough for three people. Relena looked him straight in the eye, gave him a tiny, momentary smile in return, nodded to her entourage.....and sat behind the defense.

The rest of her staff all bunched up to give them room, and her Ladyship sat close next to her cinnamon-haired coachman, already feeling a weight shifting off her battered conscience as Trowa smiled down at her. Across the aisle, Treize was silently fuming at the girl's mutiny, already sensing a shift in the jury as they saw the accused's employer throw her support behind him. She didn't see her uncle's angry glare; her attention was wrapped up in the soft look of hope and gratitude she got from Duo, who was genuinely touched by the gesture.

"If we might continue, Mr. Spenser," the judge said, "kindly call your last witness...some of us have bonfires to light before it gets too dark out to see."

"Yes, m'lord," Spenser said. He walked up to the prisoner's dock to briefly confer with his client. "Are you quite sure, young man?" he whispered. "You don't have to do this, you know."

Duo nodded. "I'm sure."

The barrister walked back to his desk as he addressed the judge. "I wish to call the accused, Mr. Duo Maxwell."

As the baliffs escorted the chef from the dock to the witness stand, the clerk made the superfluous announcement of his name, and the jurors sat up a little straighter. Duo stood behind the railing with one hand on the bible and swore on all that was holy to him that he would tell the truth, even if the truth was more unholy than a lie.

_Please, please, whatever you do,_ he thought, looking at the prosecutor, _don't ask me the most direct question of all...don't ask who means more to me than anyone in this world, because I can't lie and I'll ruin us both!_ Facing his own barrister first would be the easy part because he knew the answers to all his questions, as instructed by Marlowe, but it didn't help his nerves any.

"Mr. Maxwell," Spenser began, "have you ever been arrested prior to October the 30th of this year?"

"No, sir."

"Have you _ever_ been in trouble with the law before today?"

"Never," Duo said solemnly, shaking his head once. He paused, looked down, and fiddled with the end of his braid. "Uh...actually, I've stolen before, I'm not going to lie about that," he added, looking earnestly at the jury, "but I grew up on the streets, and it's pretty much required that you do some petty theiving if you want to eat. I was never caught, but that's the worst thing I've ever done."

Mr. Spenser nodded and ran an eye over the juror's faces. "It's very brave of you to admit that, in my opinion." The prosecutor twitched, wanting to object, but the word 'opinion' kept him in his seat. "And what, if anything did you do to atone for your 'petty thieving'?"

"Whenever I stole food for myself, I'd take some of it to this orphanage I know," Duo told the court. "They don't have much money to spend on the kids, so if I ever found a coin on the ground, I'd slip it under the door to them, 'cause I was old enough to take care of myself, and they were just little kids, y'know? I figured...they needed it more than I did."

Treize rolled his eyes and sank a little into the bench. _Unbelievable. Using orphans and stale food to win the jury over...some people have no integrity._

"Have your good deeds decreased since you became a productive member of society?" Spenser asked.

Duo hesitated, looking at Relena. Neither he nor his attorney counted on her being present to listen to this, but there was no going back now. "I, um...I can't get to the orphanage as often as I used to, because I'm busy cooking for the manor, but when I _do_ go, I take whatever's left of dinner that the family couldn't eat. It might be a little cold when it gets there, but once in awhile some poor kid without a family gets a home-cooked meal."

A few of the jurors weren't looking so severely at Duo anymore, and Relena actually smiled; even if he hadn't been a real chef when she hired him, and even if he'd never asked if he could spirit leftovers out of the house, she found she didn't mind any of it. Spenser saw her look of approval, and hoped the jury saw it as well.

"Mr. Maxwell, six men were presented to the court earlier, and each of them claimed to have been propositioned by you in the past. Have you any knowledge of these gentlemen?"

"Absolutely _not_," Duo declared confidently. "I've never seen any of them before in my life, and I certainly didn't offer to 'spend time' with them for any amount of money, or even for free!" His emphatic denial echoed through the courtroom and no one dared break the silence. From his spot behind Robert Marlowe, Quatre could sense quite clearly that Duo was telling the gospel truth, and he patted Hilde's hand comfortingly. She squeezed his hand back, because she didn't need any sixth sense to tell her when she was hearing the truth from her dear friend's lips.

Mr. Spenser's questions went on a bit from there, the main point being that Duo was a kind, generous, upstanding young man, which of course he was. Inevitably, though, the time came for Spenser to step aside and let Mr. Beecham take a crack at the boy. The prosecutor adjusted his spectacles, then his wig, and walked slowly to the witness stand.

"I'll make this as brief as possible, Mr. Maxwell," he said snidely, "as there are many of us here who have Guy Fawkes celebrations to attend...those of us who are able." Mr. Beecham was clearly implying that Duo wouldn't be going home that night, and the boy fought himself not to glare at him, knowing how bad it would look. "You say you've never met the six gentlemen who gave their testimony today...are you suggesting that _all six_ of these men are liars?"

Duo sat up straight and looked Beecham in the eye. "I don't know what they saw or who they talked to. Maybe they all met a guy who looks a lot like me and heard what they wanted to hear...but it _wasn't_ me."

"I could see possibly one or two of them making such a mistake, but not all of them. I'll rephrase the question..." Beecham stopped in front of the jury and removed his spectacles. "Perhaps you were walking down the street one night and had a conversation with one of these gentlemen. Is it possible you just don't recall these _specific_ gentlemen?" he asked, pointing to behind Treize where the six witnesses sat, only half paying attention.

"Hey, I could've asked them all what time it was every night for a month and it wouldn't make any difference," Duo stabbed back, sounding insulted at the man's inference. "I just don't have conversations like that, not the kind _they_ describe."

Mr. Beecham tried to stare the chef down, but he wasn't budging. "Very well, let's leave that for a moment, shall we? It has also been suggested that you have been sharing close sleeping arrangements with a male member of the staff. Do you deny this?"

Duo paused, but only briefly. So far, there was no shame in telling the truth. "No."

"Another brave admission!" Beecham sneered.

"Didn't you listen to the nice lady's speech an hour ago?" Duo snapped. "One bed has a litter of kittens in it! You want Hee--...you want the other guy in that room to kick 'em out onto the floor and step on them by accident the next morning!?"

While the spectators took the hint and chuckled quietly in agreement, Relena felt a sudden, unpleasant tugging in her stomach as she realized the boy narrowly missed saying Heero's name. She had never taken an interest in how the servants' quarters were arranged, but now the subject was becoming very critical to her.

"But why share with you?" Beecham asked. "Why didn't this other young man simply go somewhere else?"

"There's nowhere else to sleep!" Duo cried helplessly.

"Nowhere else to sleep!" Beecham repeated, turning away from the witness. "In a house with _sixty-two rooms_...there is nowhere else to sleep!"

Duo sighed and slouched forward a bit, cringing. "In case you missed a memo, we're _staff_. We're not _allowed_ in the guest bedrooms except to clean 'em or take somebody a midnight snack."

Relena bit her lip, wondering how such an injustice slipped past her. _Is this really happening every night? Oh, poor Heero, he probably hasn't gotten a decent night's sleep since the kittens were born...and that must be why he's been out of sorts lately. I'll have to make it up for neglecting him. I know, I'll offer him one of the guest rooms on the third floor! Otto won't mind, and it is my house after all._ Quite proud of herself for resolving the issue, Relena smiled and turned her attention back to the trial, which was rapidly progressing without her.

"Do you deny being at the railroad tracks crossing Old Millstone Creek on the night of October the 17th?"

"No, I was there," Duo said calmly.

Mr. Beecham nodded. "There seems to be some confusion over who was with you that night, however. My witness says you were accompanied by a young man, while the young lady in the second row," he said, extending a hand to where Hilde was sitting, "claims that it was her. Perhaps you could clear this matter up for us, Mr. Maxwell, since you had the best view of the person. Who was with you that night?"

Duo froze. This was the kind of direct question Marlowe had warned him about. He couldn't tell the truth without incriminated Heero, nor could he confirm Hilde's story without compromising his principles. He swallowed and avoided the girl's eyes. "I'd rather not say."

"You'd rather not say?" Beecham crowed in mock surprise. "I'm sorry, but you don't have your pick of which questions to answer, Mr. Maxwell. If you're not prepared to act properly under oath, you should have pled guilty in the first place and saved the court all this trouble!"

Duo narrowed his eyes at the prosecutor. "You can call it protecting a young lady's honour, if you want."

"I shall ask for it to be called contempt of court in a moment!" the man bellowed. "Besides, the young lady herself had waived her right to secrecy, in front of everyone present here today!" He closed in on Duo, fixing a glare on him. "Who was with you that night?"

The chef swallowed again and looked down; the mood directly behind Mr. Spenser cooled to an uncomfortable temperature, and everone on that side of the courtroom looked more than a little worried. Beecham had enough of it soon and decided to ask for intervention. "M'lord!"

"Wait a minute!" Duo shouted. He turned and looked up at the judge with all the sincerity he could muster. "I know what 'contempt of court' is, it means a lack of respect, right? I _have_ respect for you and for this courtroom and everyone in it," he said, slapping his chest for emphasis. "It's not that I'm trying to show up your whole legal system, I...I just can't answer."

The judge looked at both Duo and the prosecutor, with a subtle peek at the ticking clock in between. "The jury will make a note of the accused's refusal to answer. Continue with your questioning, Mr. Beecham."

"As you wish, m'lord," Beecham said grudgingly, walking back to his desk. He may have had to sacrifice a contempt charge, but he had one ace left, one of Treize's choosing, that could still blow the case wide open. All through the trial, both sides had avoided something very obvious about the boy, something that was about to get an inordinate amount of attention. Receiving a small, furtive nod from the Count, Mr. Beecham reached into his leather document file and pulled out a gleaming silver item--a pair of sharp scissors.

"I have an offer to present to you, Mr. Maxwell," the shrill-voiced gentleman said. "I have the power to reduce your charge to one of minor obscenity. We could take care of this whole matter with a five-pound fine and a thirty-day suspended sentence. If you behave yourself from now on, no jail time." Beecham smiled liked a viper slithering towards it prey, and held up the shining shears. "But only if you cut your hair."

Suddenly, Duo's eyes were as big as saucers with fright. He squirmed backwards, riveted to Treize and his devious grin; the man obviously delighted in playing sadistic games with his captives, and if he couldn't necessarily put Duo behind bars, he was determined to at least make him feel ugly, just to be mean.

The prosecutor took a large step towards him with the shears and Duo instinctively threw one hand up to defend himself, while the other hand flew to the base of his braid. Mr. Spenser all but leapt out of his chair to protest. "Is this display really necessary!? I see nothing but pure malevolence towards my client on the part of the prosecution!"

"What's malevolent about it?" Beecham asked innocnetly, spreading his hands wide in a submissive gesture. "Hair grows back, does it not? It's a fact of nature that, except for a few unfortunate spots such as underneath Mr. Spenser's wig, hair continues to grow. What interests the Crown is _why_ a young man would insist upon excessively long hair which makes him look like a girl!"

"Are we to start locking up men who smell of flowers?" Spenser called out mockingly. "Or who wear even the smallest scrap of satin? Or excessive jewellry? The Lord Mayor will enjoy _that_, he walks about with a great golden necklace on all day!"

The judge banged his gavel, but Mr. Beecham spun around to hit Spenser with a counterattack. "Wanting to appear soft and feminine simply gives credence to the very justifiable assumption that this boy is _guilty!_"

"Shut up! Just shut up!!" An angry young voice that was far from being either soft or feminine overpowered both barristers and the judge's gavel. Duo leaned halfway aross the railing and the baliffs rushed forward to restrain him, but he shoved their hands away. "You wanna know what this is for!?" he shouted, grabbing his braid in his right hand and punching the air with it. "I got lost in Victoria Station when I was _five_, do you get that!? _Five_ years old! I blinked and my parents were _gone_, and every year for ten years, I've stood in that station on the same day they disappeared, waiting for them, just in case they decided to crawl back looking for me!"

The courtroom was suddenly silent, except for a few tiny sobs from Hilde; she had heard this all before, but it still broke her heart. Duo pulled his braid over his shoulder, staring out into space, and clutched the rope of hair with both hands as if it were the only lifeline that could pull him out of his miry despair. "I'm not trying to look like a girl, and if you don't believe it, then tough. I know it sounds stupid...but I was just a kid. My hair was a little bit long when I was five, and I thought that if I cut it...my mother wouldn't recognize me if...if she came back." By the end of his speech, the angry voice had faded to the frightened whisper of a child, and his words were laced with tears though his face was dry.

The ticking clock became deafening all of a sudden. The baliffs moved away from Duo, deciding he was no longer a threat, and the crowd in the gallery slowly recovered from the emotional roller coaster they had all been exposed to. Relena, of all people, brushed away a tear, feeling very lucky that she had a chance to know her father.

Mr. Beecham held the shears out to Duo, handle first. "My offer still stands. Just a few snips, and you can walk out of here a free man."

Duo's stomach was in knots. Once Beecham was finished with his questioning, the barristers would give their summations and the jury would decide his fate. The trial was nearly over and Heero still hadn't arrived, even after promising to be there to help his friend. Forced into the darkest corner he had ever known, Duo had to consider the possibility that Heero wasn't coming, and that cutting his hair might be the only way out.

_Where is he? He promised...he swore to me..._ He looked at the jury, and they all seemed to be wondering why he didn't just take the scissors and get it over with so they could all go home. _I really am a freak, aren't I? This must be why I can't keep anyone. My parents left me, Helen left me...Heero probably saw sense and left me too. Good for him._

"Going once..." the prosecutor taunted. "Going twice..."

There really was no escape. Duo watched with horror as he saw his hand twitch, saw his whole arm move slightly towards the scissors. Now, it was the only way.

A sudden commotion with shouts and arguments arose outside. With a thunderous boom, the courtroom doors flew open, and all eyes were upon the intruder; one pair of amethyst eyes in particular were literally a hair's breadth away from weeping for joy. There stood a dark-haired boy, driven by the irresistable gravity of justice and loyalty, holding the door open with one tired hand and holding a folded piece of paper in the other.

There were a few gasps as the boy walked straight up the aisle and into the forbidden barrister's area, but then very few people knew who he was. Duo locked eyes on him, finding his reason to live as the person he was, all over again. _I never should have doubted you! I'll be making this up to you for a long time!_ He smiled. _Lucky me._

"If it please the court," the boy announced, holding out the paper, "I have new evidence to present."

The clerk stepped forward to take it from him, while the judge looked down the end of his nose at the lad. "And who exactly are you?"

Heero caught his breath and looked at Duo, relieved to see that he made it in time. "A messenger of the Crown."

The judge received the folded paper, into which was tucked another paper, a letter addressed specifically to him. The other was a document suitable for the eyes of the public. After reading the letter and looking at Heero almost fearfully, Judge Hampstead read from the second page. "'It has come to our attention that Mr. Duo Maxwell, common-law citizen in good standing, faithful servant of Bishop O'Reilley in the diocese of Carshalton, and guest of the British Empire, has had attributed to him a crime which has no basis in fact. Maintaining the greatest respect for His Majesty's courts, and in the best interest of good relations with Mr. Maxwell's country of origin, being the United States of America, we require his immediate release.'"

Frantic whispers spread, and Treize showed concern for the first time in two weeks. The judge looked again at the royal crest, the golden seal, and the signature that was absolutely flawless. "Signed..." His voice nearly gave out as he read the name. ".....His Majesty, Edward........Prince of Wales."

The courtroom exploded with a mighty cheer from one side of the aisle, the people bowled over by the prospect of Queen Victoria's son, the next in line for the throne, would take an interest in this poor little American waif. Judge Hampstead dismissed the case and adjourned the court, then left holding the piece of paper meant only for him. The servants in the crowd jumped up and gave each other hugs and shouted their hurrahs, led by an ecstatic Hilde, and Heero let his tired eyes linger on Duo's quietly. Theirs was a well-earned victory.

Treize and Wufei watched helplessly as the baliffs took Duo from the witness stand and let him go. The prosecutor was red in the face from shouting for verification of this 'royal pardon', but it looked perfectly authentic to the judge, who therefore had no choice but to obey it. Duo's supporters in the back rows hooted and hollered, and swarmed the front of the courtroom all around him, giving him hugs and telling him they never lost hope, not for a minute; Relena was so touched by the whole affair that she invited them all to enjoy Bonfire Night at Bridlewood, and not one of them refused.

Soon, they mobbed Duo right out the front door, while Elsie, Otto and Wufei snuck out the back. That left Heero alone with a few stragglers, Marlowe and Spenser congratulating each other, and a very livid Treize. Heero walked just far enough back up the aisle so that he stood a scant few feet from the Count, absorbing the murderous look in his eyes at full force. There, the boy's glare turned to a smug little smirk, and then he walked away.

**********  
  


Bonfire Night went ahead as planned, and due to recent publicity and the royal pardon hanging by a pin in the drawing room like a trophy, waiting to be framed, there were twice as many guests as originally expected, not counting Duo's friends from off the street. Relena was just tickled to have anything touched by royalty in her home, and whenever another batch of well-wishers arrived, she would trot them by the drawing room to admire the Prince's signature awhile before going outside for refreshments by the fire.

During a lull in the action, Duo escaped the crowd long enough to visit the piece of paper himself. He had seen that two pages went to the judge and only one came back, and he knew darn well that the signature wasn't to be taken as face value, and might have doubted it even if it hadn't been hand delivered by an international spy. Still, the result was nothing to sneeze at.

_I actually did it honestly. Everyone around me was lying...and I got off because of a lie...but I was totally honest. Funny world, huh?_ He stared up at the paper, marked with the ink that had set him free, and imagined himself talking to it. _And now I've got you. I've got a piece of paper that says I'm a free man and there's nothing wrong with me. I've got a piece of paper that says I'm not in love._

So which one of us is the liar?

**********  
  


Outside in the back garden that night, Relena's guests were milling around the huge bonfire, a pile of dried branches fifteen feet tall, atop which was a straw-stuffed effigy of Guy Fawkes, for whom the holiday was named. The four members of the household who sided with the prosecution were absent, to nobody's surprise, but the rest of the happy crowd numbered well over two hundred, so the traitors were scarcely missed.

While most everyone was chatting, drinking cider, and eating cooked-out sausages, Heero sat alone under the stars, cross-legged in front of the fire, on one of the heavy blankets scattered about on the lawn. After a time, the man of the hour came out of the house wearing his chef's uniform, glad to be rid of the brown tweed for awhile. He took no time at all in deciding where to sit down for a rest.

"There's gotta be one _phenominal_ story behind that piece of paper," he said quietly, lowering himself onto the blanket next to Heero. "Where'd you come up with 'faithful servant of Bishop O'Reilley'? I don't know any Bishop O'Reilley."

"Your orphanage is located in his diocese, and is partially funded by the Catholic church," Heero explained, watching the flames lick at the dried twigs and straw. "You didn't know that?"

Duo shrugged. "I didn't ask. Hell, I didn't even know it was in Carshalton." He politely declined a mug of cider from a passing guest and went on. "How about that other piece of paper, the one nobody but the judge saw? I could see a corner of it...was it actually telling him to buy that song and dance about Prince Edward?"

Heero looked at him slowly, faint traces of the smug smirk seeping through his professional mask, but said nothing.

"Uh huh," Duo conceded with a grin. He watched the embers leap higher and higher into the midnight blue sky, thinking. "Thank you. Nobody else would've cared enough to do what you did for me...you really are my best friend. I hate to think what that 'royal pardon' cost you, though."

Heero blinked at the boy; he was unable to find any benefits in telling him the whole truth, so the abbreviated version would have to suffice for now. "Once a week, I have to go back to see Lord Jeffrhyss...to check in."

Duo looked at him quizzically. "Check in? What's that supposed to mean? You have to go all that way, show him you're still alive, then turn around and come back?"

Again, Heero didn't answer. Duo slowly grinned and nudged the boy in the ribs gently. "Still, in a few months' time when old Eddy gets coronated, knowing someone who can forge the king's signature could come in mighty handy!" The butler rolled his eyes while Duo prattled on. "We can get ourselves diplomatic immunity, a castle each with a polo field, maybe a small country...hey, we can get matching ocean liners and race each other around the world, huh? How cool would that be?"

Heero shook his head, letting a little more of the smirk show. "Baka..."

Duo leaned in close, pressing the side of his face into Heero's shoulder and humming contentedly. "I love it when you call me that." Someone else walked by offering them mugs of piping hot cider, and this time they both accepted. Relena called for attention and everyone gathered 'round to watch Arthur light the fireworks, which shot up into the sky and painted it all the colours of the rainbow. The boys watched the flares of coloured light, not saying anything, preferring to leave the mountain of questions until the next morning. For now, it was enough to know that they would both be sleeping in a warm bed tonight, and that neither one would be lonely.

  
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_Next, in Episode Twenty-Six: The household recovers after a curious month, with questions flying in all directions and too few answers to go around. The manor seems to have suffered no slight because of Duo's court case, but Relena falls terribly ill for no apparent reason. Is it just stress, or is her health at serious risk from some unknown ailment?_

=x_X= ...ugghnn...Mitsugi tired....need rest. I gotta give myself a little break for a bit, rest, regroup, rub liniment on my fingers, that sort of thing. The result of which being, I'm not sure when Ep.26 will be ready. Don't get me wrong, it's coming! I just need a few days off after that to figure out where I am in the story. =P You understand. *grin* Keep checking back at my site to find out what's what! I'll let you know as soon as I know, but I won't leave you hanging for long...I've still got a bunch of material for November/December! =^_^= Ja ne!


	26. Natural Law

This episode is the line between what I'm casually calling the first and second series, although there's really going to be no interruption in the story. It also has a warning for, um...how shall I put this...adolescent female ickyness. XP

**Disclaimer:** I need one of those memorabilia stores that sells life-size cardboard cutouts of famous celebrities and movie characters. Why? Because I don't have any real Gundam pilots of my own, and I have to make them from scratch, that's why! *cries* I wonder how much paint it would take to turn a Han Solo cutout into a Trowa cutout...

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Twenty-Six: Natural Law

_"Knowledge is the antidote to fear." ~Ralph Waldo Emerson_

November 14th, 1901

The agreement was that Heero would return to Cloverderry Glen once every seven days without fail. The restrictions of reality were such that he only had Thursdays and Sundays off, and since his first dose of the mysterious smoke was received on a Tuesday, this presented a problem. Rather than go twice in three days, Heero thought it would be just as easy to show up two days late for the second dose. Up until Tuesday of the following week, it was a pretty good idea.

Then the symptoms began. It wasn't much at first, just a little fatigue and muscle pain. By Wednesday, his appetite was waning as well, which only added to the fatigue and did nothing for his job performance. Duo tried everything to get him to eat, especially when he saw Heero drop an empty tray on the kitchen floor for no reason at all. Heero never dropped anything.

On Thursday morning, the trip to the country was looking less like a duty and more like a blessing. Trying hard to hide his growing dizziness from Duo, he groggily slipped out the front door and took a cab to the train station first thing. All the while on the train, he was overcome by stomach cramps that grew and grew until he was clutching the seat in front of him in a white-knuckled deathgrip, his breath coming in short, painful gasps. Several passengers on the train saw the boy's unusual posture and sweaty pallor, and naturally asked if he was alright, but he couldn't hear them.

Somewhere between the second train station and Cloverderry Glen, Heero passed out in the carriage and had to be shaken awake by its driver when they arrived. Becoming his stoic self out of sheer pride, he managed to get out of the carriage without falling down, but just ended up leaning against the nearest building and wondering where he was.

Mercy smiled on the boy at that moment, for the first person to take notice of him was Noin, on her way back to the post office after delivering a basket of fresh vegetables to one of the townsfolk. She rushed to his side and shook him by the arm, nervously trying to shield him from the curious eyes of the villagers. "Heero!" she whispered. "What's wrong? What's happened?"

Heero looked up through slightly blurred vision and recognized the woman, then pointed feebly at the muddy path leading out of town. "...Jeffrhyss' cottage," he growled in a gravelly voice.

Noin looked over her shoulder at the path, then back at Heero. "You want to _go_ there? In _this_ condition?" She shook her head and tried to prop him up, the empty basket still hanging on her arm. "Let me take you to the Trimbles', and you can lie down..."

Heero swallowed, and it took much more effort than it should have. "..._have_ to," he choked out.

The woman glanced at the post office and wondered how long she could be gone before she'd be missed. Then she wondered why she was even getting involved, but she instinctively felt that the two of them were on the same side somehow, and they were supposed to help each other. Noin sighed and tugged the boy away from the wall gently. "Alright, alright...just take it slow..."

With steely determination, Heero straightened up under his own power and walked stiffly through the town square and down the path. Noin walked close at his side, ready to prop him up again if he faltered, but let him walk at his own pace, unassisted. It was bad for his body, but good for his ego, she thought.

She guided Heero all the way to the front door of Lord Jeffrhyss' cottage, farther than she usually liked unless she was summoned by his Lordship, and even then she got chills just looking at the place. Soon, Heero disappeared into the cottage without any backward glance, leaving Noin standing on the cobblestones outside to worry whether or not he was well enough to even make it down the stairs. She paced and paced for nearly half an hour, according to the corroded copper sundial in the tall weeds, until the sun drifted behind a cloud, rendering it unreadable.

Then, just as she was about to give up and go home, the door opened. She spun around and had to stare for several seconds to be sure she was looking at the right boy. There was Heero, calmly tucking in the shirt cuffs under the sleeves of his jacket; he appeared perfectly healthy.

Noin took a cautious step forward. "Are you alright?"

The boy's eyes slowly swivelled upwards; they were dark and glossy, but focused at last. He took a moment to let the gears of his mind slide back onto their axles, then blinked at her innocently. "Yes. Thank you." With no further explanation, Heero walked straight past her and headed back up the path to the village.

Noin stared at him from behind, dumbfounded. _He's got it backwards. You're supposed to look normal when you go in and like a dishrag when you come out, not the other way around!_ She followed him from about twenty feet behind, watching him walk; he wove languidly back and forth across the width of the path, but other than that, he seemed totally in control.

When they reached the village, he climbed back into the carriage that brought him, and the driver coaxed his horses into action, pulling the rickety wooden vehicle away. Noin stood in the middle of the town square next to the gazing pool, with a dozen or more villagers milling around, oblivious to the mystery that engulfed her. _I have a feeling I'll find out what's going on eventually,_ she thought, _whether I want to know or not._

**********  
  


Duo worried about Heero every hour of the day, and even in his sleep, but he knew when to give it a rest and just trust the boy, and today was one of those days. While he was gone, someone had to serve all the meals, and given what had arrived in the mail for Treize that morning, he wasn't about to let anyone deprive him of the pleasure of serving lunch to the Count personally.

He sashayed around the kitchen in a glorious mood and gave the pot on the stove a generous stir, smelling the contents approvingly. _Ahhh, the smell of vengeance,_ he thought with a smile.

Hilde walked past carrying a stack of fresh tablecloths and wrinkled her nose at the odour. "Oh, not again...haven't you punished the man enough?"

"Hey, he stuck me in a filthy jail cell for five and a half days, he's getting off easy!" Duo switched his attention to another pot, one of boiling pasta, and took it to the washbasin to drain it. The chef was not unaware that the ruse of sending him out for ingredients to make tagliatelle primavera was how Treize tricked him into the cleverly-planned trap that got him arrested. It therefore satisfied Duo's sense of poetic justice to feed Treize absolutely nothing except the peppery cheese and pasta dish at every single meal, until the gourmet delicacy became nauseating. Breakfast, lunch, tea, dinner, it made no difference. He even put up a Mason jar full of the stuff and caught Treize with it when he wanted a midnight snack.

Hilde shook her head and clucked her tongue with a grin as he added the chopped vegetables to the cheese sauce. "So childish..."

"How many children can cook tagliatelle primavera in their sleep? I bet I can!" He poured the steaming hot sauce triumphantly over the pile of thin pasta sitting in a bowl. "I'm a genius. I should get an award for this. Anyway, this batch is the last...check out what came in the mail today." He nodded in the direction of the kitchen table, where he'd sorted out the morning mail in Heero's absence and held back one important piece.

Setting down the tablecloths and making no attempt to hide her curiosity, Hilde picked up the rather thick envelope and read the return address. She smiled brightly. "Your papers from Mr. Marlowe?"

"Got it in one," Duo congratulated her. He made up a tray with the plate of pasta, loaded it into the dumbwaiter next to three other trays, and pulled the rope to raise the four lunches to the main level. He tied it off to a hook in the wall and turned to Hilde, reaching into his pocket. "Listen, can you get rid of the maids for awhile?"

"Why?"

"Well..." Duo paused, thought, and grinned endearingly. "I'm about to drop the hammer on this guy, and if it ends up in raised voices, I'd hate for you ladies to have to suffer through it."

"Yeah, right," Hilde mocked, "you've just got more shopping for us to do." She held out her hands and received what she suspected was coming next, a fistful of coins and a long, long list. "Christmas isn't for weeks yet. Why don't you pace yourself on the new recipes?"

Duo smirked in self-defense and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Just go get what's on the list, and take the girls out to lunch with whatever's left over." He took the thick white envelope back from her and headed for the stairs. "And make sure they have a nice pink bib and a little high chair for Elsie."

Hilde watched him leave, smiling fondly; Duo had actually been quite a gentleman about Elsie testifying against him. _Other fellows might've screamed at her until their face was as blue as their language, but Duo's handling it with dignity and subtlety. He's a true gentleman...but lovely as that is, it's not making my decision any easier._ Her smile grew and was joined by a rosy blush as she contemplated her choices. _It's getting late...I'd better get the girls together and do the grocery shopping so I'll be back before Heero gets home!_ Skipping away with a flourish, she went to gather the housemaids from wherever in the house they were hiding.

**********  
  


Upstairs in the dining room, Treize and Otto sat on opposite sides of the table, offset by a chair apiece, staring at nothing; the Count was glowering, and his subordinate just looked blank, as befit their moods. It took a bit of arm-twising on Otto's part to get Treize to even set foot in the dining room. He was developing a serious phobia of the room and did his best to avoid it, but the tagliatelle primavera followed him all over the house like a bloodhound, and he couldn't get away from it.

"I was up at five-thirty this morning for breakfast," Treize said in a zombie-like tone. "He knew. Somehow, he knew. He was waiting for me...with a great toureen of it on the stove and a spatula in his hand...waiting to shove gallons of pasta down my throat if I so much as grunted in his direction."

Otto fiddled quietly with the tablecloth, deliberately looking away. "I suppose it was to be expected..."

Treize sighed. "...mmm."

"...after what _you_ did." The burly house steward looked at his companion out of the corner of his eye, ready to bolt if he found he'd overstepped his boundaries. Treize moved nothing except his eyes, ever so slowly glaring at his impudent assistant. Otto looked down.

"It's just the three of us for lunch," Dorothy said as she sailed into the dining room, just in time. "Relena has a stomachache." The menfolk were silent, eyeing each other like circling jackals. Dorothy sat down across from Treize and looked back and forth between them. "A quiet lunch for once! The novelty is overwhelming!"

Not a word was spoken, not a sound was heard until a faint clattering grew, coming from a few rooms away. It stopped, was followed by four loud clanks, and then rolled on, and the diners could swear they heard someone whistling. To the Count's ears, it was akin to the rattling of a hospital gurney, wheeling him down that long, bleak hall to his execution.

As if on cue, in waltzed the executioner pushing a silvery cart of fresh-cooked meals. "Luncheon is served," the chef sang evilly.

"Thank heavens, I'm famished!" Dorothy crooned back. "Miss Relena sends her apologies, but she's a bit under the weather."

_Just as well,_ Duo thought as he unloaded the first tray from the dining cart. _She really shouldn't be watching her dear uncle's downfall._ "For the lady..." He set the tray down in front of Dorothy and pulled off the domed cover. "Smoked salmon, vegetable soup, garden salad with croutons, chocolate-dipped shortbread, and Irish coffee." The Baroness smiled with delight; though she didn't know it, her slightly helpful testimony at the trial had earned her better food than Otto and Treize. If Relena had been well enough to eat, she would have received an identical tray.

Duo placed the second tray in front of Otto and unveiled it with the same flair. "I ran out of salmon and soup, so you'll have to make do with macaroni cheese and beanie weenies." As the chef walked back to the silver cart, Otto looked down at his plate numbly. He was neither hurtful nor helpful at the trial, so his meals for the last week had been mediocre, but edible.

"And for _you_," Duo announced, setting the bottommost tray before the Count, "oh, I've got a _special_ treat for you!" Treize shrank away from the silver dome, watching the chef's snakelike arm as it grasped the cover and pulled it away. There, lurking underneath as it had done for the last twenty-three meals in a row, was the plate of piping hot pasta in cheese sauce. Treize whipped out his handkerchief and held it to his nose and mouth, grimacing slightly; the once-divine smell was now making him sick.

"It's creamy smooth, and mmm, mmm, good!" Duo chirped gleefully. "And you be sure to save room for dessert!" He took the envelope from Mr. Marlowe out of his apron pocket and handed it to Treize, who read his own name above the address with suspicion.

The Count snatched the letter and tore it open, and Duo hung over him like a vulture, relishing the sight as the man hurriedly glanced over the contents. The others watched, perplexed, as his forked eyebrows arched angrily downward and his face took on a reddened hue like a stick of dynamite that had just run out of fuse. "Defamation of character!?" he bellowed.

Duo whistled, impressed. "My, what big words them law folk use!" he said in a southern drawl. He bent down and put an arm around the Count's beefy shoulders, closing in for the kill. "There's a lot of big words in there, so I'll save you some time. It's a summons. I'm suing you for slander. Bon appétit!" He slapped Treize on the back and departed with the silver cart, singing.

Treize looked at the summons...then down at the tagliatelle primavera...then back at the summons...then at the door through which Duo had exited...and finally at Dorothy. "Let's get out of here."

Dorothy, who had been engrossed in the little side-show with her fork suspended in mid-air bearing two bits of lettuce and a crouton, frowned. "But I haven't even started!"

"And you're not going to," Treize snapped, leaping out of his chair. "We're lunching at the Savoy. No arguments." At the mention of the Savoy, probably the classiest and most expensive hotel in London with a restaurant menu to die for, Dorothy quckly warmed up to the idea, and followed him to the door. Otto allowed himself to be led as well, but had to quickly cover up the amused grin that had crept over his face. Treize looked him in the eye as he walked past. "I wouldn't laugh, Otto. You're buying." The smile fell.

Duo watched through the crack in the opposite door as they paraded out for greener pastures, at which point he couldn't contain himself any longer, and nearly killed himself laughing. The raucous hooting and yowling chased Treize and his entourage right out the front door. It was nice, just this once, Duo decided, to be a sore winner; he didn't know if he'd ever get the chance again.

As soon as he thought the troupe wasn't coming back, he ran to a window at the back of the house, spotted Trowa and Quatre practising with their fencing foils, and hollered out to them. "Hey guys! Soup's on! Hurry up!"

**********  
  


Feeling much more himself, and not a moment too soon, Heero hiked the last few blocks from the train station to the manor, checking his progress on his gold pocketwatch while getting a few extra gulps of fresh air. It was a little after one o'clock. _I'm getting better at this,_ he thought. Indeed, he shortened the journey to Cloverderry Glen a little bit each time, and with repetition, he felt certain that he could shave it down even further.

He jogged up the front walk and the concrete stairs, let himself in with his key, and was less than two feet in the door when he was nearly bowled over by a hungry delegation of the aristocracy, led by Treize. The Count barelled down the front hall, paused briefly to glower sharply at Heero, then brushed past him and left. Otto came next, and just sort of looked away as he exited. Third and finally came Dorothy, wearing an expensive-looking fur cape over her dress and pinning it in place with a diamond brooch.

"_We're_ going to the Savoy for lunch!" she crowed haughtily. "How does my hair look?"

Heero stared. "Same as it always looks."

"Oh, good!" she cheered brightly, and with that she joined her companions on the sidewalk where they were attempting to hail a midday cab. Heero regarded them all curiously, then decided it was probably no concern of his and shut the door.

He could immediately detect the smell of Duo's home cooking coming from the general direction of the dining room and was instantly suspicious. Why would the family go to a hotel for lunch if there was already food at home? It defied reason. Energized at the thought of having a mystery to solve, however small, Heero set out towards the dining room, but was held back suddenly by a little squeak.

The butler turned around, noticed nothing unusual, then began scanning the floor for any furry visitors. Sure enough, someone had been standing at the door waiting for Heero ever since he left that morning; crouched under a decorative table that perpetually held a vase of flowers, was the little charcoal grey kitten.

Giving way to a faint smirk, Heero ducked down, gently pulled the animal out from under the table and lifted it off the floor, letting its tiny paws dangle like the arms of a rag doll. The kitten looked up at him and squeaked again, and they made their way to the dining room together.

It was a jovial scene there when they arrived; Duo, Trowa and Quatre were chatting away and chowing down heartily on soup, salad, and sandwiches, though it seemed the chef had saved all the macaroni and cheese for himself. There were four trays in all, the last one still covered with a silver dome.

"Heero!" Duo chirped, standing quickly. "The maids are out grocery shopping, the snobs all flew the coop, and we've practically got the whole house to ourselves, so sit down and dig in! I didn't know when you were getting back, so I'm afraid this is all we've got..." He reached across the table and took the cover off the fourth tray, revealing Treize's untouched tagliatelle primavera. Many a time had Heero brought this fine dish to the ungrateful Count and never had a morsel for himself.

"When have I ever turned down your cooking?" Heero asked rhetorically. He sat down next to Trowa and the conversation resumed. The kitten was allowed to sit right on the tabletop with them, and scooted towards Quatre right away, liking the smells that were drifting off his plate.

"Why, hello there, kittykins," Quatre greeted the feline. "Would you like some of my salmon?" He put a bit of fish on his finger and let the cat nibble it off sweetly, turning to Heero in the meantime. "Did you have a nice trip?"

Heero looked at the gardener, poured himself some white wine, and lied through his teeth. "Very nice, thank you."

"You missed one hell of a show here," Duo mumbled enthusiastically through a mouthful of macaroni. "I served Treize with papers for my lawsuit just now. He was furious!"

The butler nodded. "I saw him."

"Mr. Marlowe figures that so long as Duo has that royal pardon backing him up, Treize hasn't got a prayer," Trowa said. "And yet I can't understand why he would go to all the trouble of having him arrested on false charges and brought to trial, when he could have just asked Relena to sack him if he was that unsatisfactory. I don't see what he has to complain about anyway...the food here is better than I've had anywhere else in my life! It's very puzzling..."

"I don't think Treize is nearly as nice as he acts sometimes," Quatre said, eyes downcast. "There's something terribly cruel about him."

Duo and Heero looked at each other quietly from opposite corners. So far, they were the only servants who knew the real reason for Duo's arrest, and they intended to keep it that way, for everyone's safety. Heero was content to let the subject drop and get on with his lunch, but before the first forkful of pasta even made it to his lips, a distant, high-pitched clanging came from below, and all four of them froze.

Heero listened to the pitch of the bell and deciphered the location of the summons with a sigh. "Relena's room."

Quatre got up and put his fork down, giving the kitten a quick scratch behind the ears. "I'll go, Heero, it's your day off."

"No, I'll go," Heero countered, putting the silver dome back on his plate dejectedly. "I won't be long." He rose and left them to their conversation, which was now dotted with sympathetic remarks especially for him.

He climbed countless stairs and navigated the maze of corridors, finally arriving at Relena's bedchamber door. It dawned on him that, even though he had known the route since his first week's employment there, he'd never ventured beyond that door. A faint trepidation tingled through his fingers as he opened it and stepped inside.

The room was unmistakenly pink. The colour was everywhere, on the walls, on the furnishings, on the rug that covered much of the hardwood floor...and in the middle of it all was a massive canopy bed with pink and white frills floating all around it. Propped up against a pile of pillows, within easy reach of the bellpull, sat a teary-eyed Relena, her face redder than the wallpaper from crying. She sniffled and sobbed and held both hands out to Heero, and taken slightly aback by her hysterical state, he went to her bedside and took her trembling hands without question.

"H-heero," she choked miserably, "you m-mustn't be alarmed...b-but I wanted to s-see you...one last time." The girl squeezed out a few more pathetic sobs before gaining control of herself and looking at him with red, watery eyes. "I'm dying."

Heero squinted. It was an odd place for one to be dying, to be sure. "Who told you that?"

"N-nobody," Relena whimpered. "Please don't ask me how I know, I just do. Listen to me...I don't know how long I have, but I want to be buried next to my father. I'm _trusting_ you with this task, Heero!"

"Wait, wait," Heero blurted out, squinting harder and waving away the funny chirping birdies flying around his head. "Has the doctor been here to see you?"

Relena looked down and shook her head.

"Would you like me to send for Dr. Pritchard?"

"No!" she gasped, looking up fiercely. "I don't want to talk to him! I _can't_ talk to him!" She buried her face in her hands and seemed ashamed to even be ill. "I can't talk to anyone! It's too horrid!"

The girl wept out of despair, and Heero fidgeted uncomfortably. Hoping to coax some more information out of her, he sat next to her on the bed and put an arm lightly around her shoulders. "You can talk to me," he said quietly. "Tell me what's wrong."

Relena glanced up and sniffled, gaining a small amount of strength from his close proximity. Her lower lip quivered as she tried to decide where to begin. "It hurts..."

"What hurts?"

She paused, as if unsure of exactly what she was describing. "...my stomach," she managed finally.

By now, several dozen possible diagnoses were buzzing around Heero's brain, but he needed to narrow down the choices some more. "Is there anything else?" he prodded gently.

Relena looked away and sniveled some more, blushing from humiliation as much as anguish. When she looked reluctant to divulge any more details, Heero gave her shoulder a little squeeze and a shake, but she only burst into tears again. She sobbed into her handkerchief for a full two minutes before gasping out the awful truth. "...I'm _bleeding!_"

Heero banged the back of his head on the bedframe and shut his eyes, 99% certain of what the problem was. _It couldn't be a nice, straightforward case of appendicitis, oh no._ He lifted his head, exhaled slowly and stared at the opposite wall. "I don't think you're dying."

"Then what else could it be!?" Relena cried.

That was exactly the question Heero didn't want flung at him. In his short lifetime he had faced mercenaries, assassins, projectile explosives, potentially lethal obstacle courses, and Rottweilers with a taste for blood, but they were all looking much better than the prospect of sitting on the bed and explaining the unexplainable things that men really didn't want to know. Just about then, he could have smacked Duo in the head for sending all the female servants out of the house.

Heero slowly got up off the bed and looked over his temporary charge. "I know a lady doctor who lives not too far away," he said in a schoolteacherish voice, "would you like me to send for her instead?"

Relena thought about that for a moment, and actually stopped crying in the meantime. Slowly and fretfully, she looked down again and nodded. Heero backed out of the bedroom respectfully and counted his blessings for having dodged a rather unpleasant bullet, then went downstairs to ring Sally.

After briefly explaining the situation to Dr. Poole on the phone, without, of course, going into _too_ much detail, Heero plodded back to the dining room to see if there was any heat left in his hot lunch. The other boys had finished eating and were amusing themselves playing with the cat, dangling a piece of string in front of it and watching it pounce and slide on the highly-varnished wood table.

"So what's the buzz from the third floor?" Duo asked genially.

Heero sat back down and took the cover off his plate, dismayed that it was no longer steaming hot. He shrugged slightly and picked up his fork anyway. "Relena's dying."

The other three froze. Even the grey kitten stopped toying with the string as it sensed a change in mood around the table.

"_Dying?_" Trowa whispered.

Quatre shook his head, wondering why he didn't notice it before. "Oh no..."

"I swear to God, it wasn't food poisoning!" Duo exclaimed, throwing up his hands.

"Well," Heero interjected, "she not _dying,_ dying...she just..._thinks_ she's dying." He really wasn't hungry anymore, but continued to shuffle the pasta around on his plate, well aware of the three pairs of eyes boring holes into his skull.

After brief thought, Quatre realized that Relena was so often upset, mostly by little things, that he had trained his sixth sense to tune her out most of the time, to more or less treat her emotional outbursts as white noise. As he dropped his mental barriers and paid attention, however, he could sense her genuine distress. "What's wrong with her?"

Heero looked around the table in a sullen fashion, tapping his fork on the edge of his plate. Finally, he locked eyes with Quatre. "You grew up with twenty-nine sisters, correct?"

Quatre nodded. "Of course."

"On average, how many of them were 'dying' on any given day of the month?"

The gardener seemed to retreat into his memory, recalling times when his sisters were in the same amount of peril Relena was in, or close to it. Suddenly, a common theme came crashing out at him. "Oh!" he yelped. A pause went by, and he ducked his head, turning crimson. "Ohhhhhh." He looked at the others, then looked back at Heero with fawn eyes. "Oh dear..."

"I've called Sally. She'll be here soon."

The other three boys sighed deeply with relief and sank into their chairs. They craftily avoided the subject for the next forty-five minutes, playing poker, drinking ale, and talking about 'guy things' until the doorbell rang. Trowa volunteered to answer it, and promptly brought back Sally, in the fern green dress and pompadour hairstyle that had made her distinctive amongst her peers.

Upon seeing the four boys huddled around the dining room table with playing cards and poker chips, she wondered if she'd come to the right house. "Is someone going to tell me what's going on?"

Duo bet a farthing against Quatre's pair of sevens. "Relena's dying."

Sally looked at Quatre, who saw Duo's bet and raised him tuppence. "She's not _dying_, dying."

Sally looked at Trowa, who folded with a pair of threes. "She just thinks she's dying."

Finally, Sally looked down at Heero and his three kings, which he wasn't about to give up without serious repercussions. Heero, for his part, glared at the others for taking all the simple, non-invasive explanations, then beckoned Sally to bend down so he could whisper in her ear. After he gave her a brief synopsis of recent events, her eyes went wide and she straightened up, putting a hand on her hip. "Are you absolutely certain?"

Heero stared up at her in disbelief. "Did you think I was going to _check?_" The other boys snickered quietly.

"Was that the blonde girl who showed up late at the trial? I didn't see her from the front. How old is she?" Sally asked quickly, trying to get her head 'round the situation.

Heero looked down at his cards. "Just old enough."

"See, she doesn't have any family left, except her uncle, and he's away," Quatre explained. "Her mother wasn't around long enough to explain anything to her, she has a friend named Dorothy who's older, but she's gone for the afternoon, and all the housemaids are, well...out of the house." Duo received two glares from the other side of the table and shrank away. "So, there really isn't anyone she can discuss this with."

"But you _did_ tell her what it was, didn't you?" Sally waited in vain for an answer, but all four boys looked the other way. The woman gaped. "You just _left_ her there!?"

"You cad!" Duo sneered in Heero's direction.

"I have never seen such a despicable display of squeamishness and male cowardice like this in the whole of my career!" Sally yelled, ignoring the remark as well as the scowls being traded under her nose. "That poor girl is up in her room right now thinking she's not going to live to see her next birthday! All it would have taken to ease her suffering until I arrived would be for one of you big, strong, _brave_ men to sit down and explain to her that this is a perfectly normal process and it isn't going to kill her, but not one of you could muster up enough courage to even do that, could you!? No, you just sat here in your safe little male cave and ignored her while you waited for Dr. Feminism to come and save you from your pitiful selves!"

The boys were silent, staring at each other fearfully and sinking by fractions of inches further into their chairs. The kitten seemed to be enjoying the after-salmon cabaret and mewed it's approval.

"Come on, you," Sally barked, thumping Heero soundly on the shoulder. "Let's go check on the patient."

Again Heero looked up at her in a state of well-hidden shock. "What?"

"You heard me." She grabbed the boy by the scruff of his neck and hauled him to his feet with one arm and a handful of black jacket. "I happen to know you're stronger than you look, so maybe you can set a good example for these boys and help comfort Relena while I sort things out. Don't worry, I'll send you out of the room for the grizzly parts." Sally turned on her heel and stomped out towards the main staircase, leaving a little cloud of dust hovering over her footprints in the carpet.

They all looked at Heero mournfully; Quatre poured him another glass of white wine as a bracer, and the butler downed it in one gulp. Duo stood and saluted him as he turned and walked out to meet his doom, and the kitten flicked it's tail for no reason at all.

**********  
  


Using Otto's money, Treize procured a prime spot in the dining room of the Savoy for them to have a nice, calm, uninterrupted lunch. About halfway through, he interrupted Otto and sent him away. Whether they ate at the same table or not, he was still a servant and was required to do as he was bidden, especially when the Count wanted a private word with Dorothy.

"I've gone through all of Lord Peacecraft's paperwork from the last twenty years, and there's no sign of the blueprints," he said in a hushed voice over his boeuf bourgognon. "We _need_ those blueprints to start searching the house properly, or we'll be ripping apart walls indiscriminately for weeks and might never get anywhere."

"We're exactly nowhere already," Dorothy observed. "I don't see what the rush is, really. Is a few more weeks, or even months, going to make all that much difference?"

"Ordinarily, no," the Count said, "but the servants aren't making it any easier, and they might even be looking for the same thing we are."

Dorothy looked up from her crème brulée in a moment of realization. "Ohh, so _that's_ why you tried to have the cook sent away! You think he's after the--" She looked around the dining room and lowered her head and her voice to the same level. "You think he's after what we're after?"

Treize smiled and nodded. "Yes, my dear, exactly." A lie, but for his purposes, a convincing one. He couldn't tell her why Duo went to jail without revealing why he wanted to get rid of Heero. He couldn't tell her why he wanted to get rid of Heero without revealing why Heero was watching him. He couldn't tell her why he was being watched without jeopardizing their whole working relationship with fear and suspicion. As far as she knew, he was an ambitious foreign nobleman with designs on wealth and moderate power, nothing more. The truth might have shocked her right out of being his assistant, and he needed her to work on Relena for him.

"What we really need to do," the Count continued, "is convince her Ladyship to take that extended holiday in the country that we've been talking about for weeks. She might enjoy a world cruise, even...but I'm trusting you to keep her occupied long enough for me to get my men into the house, find the blueprints...and let whatever happens naturally occur from there."

Dorothy nodded, while thinking fiendishly. "And I presume we should take as many of the servants with us as we can? We don't want any troublemakers wandering around and giving away the whole plot while you conduct your search, do we?" Most of the servants, she couldn't care less about; she only wanted to keep an eye on Quatre and look for another opportunity to sink her claws into him, but of course, she couldn't tell Treize about that without jeopardizing her share of the money. She would already have to split it with Lady Une, so losing another portion to Treize in order to buy his silence would thin out the pot considerably.

The Count nodded. "Indeed." He took a sip of red wine and studied her face, looking for signs of deceit, but could find none. She was just as adroit a liar as he was. "So this is what we'll do...you keep working on Relena, convince her to take that holiday, and I'll keep looking for the blueprints. There's only the cellar and the attic left, so they _must_ be there."

Dorothy nodded back. "And I can be guaranteed of my share for helping you out in your hour of need?" she asked sweetly.

"Of course," Treize said, "I'm a man of my word."

They toasted success and good fortune, with such exquisite timing that Otto returned only a second later to ask if he was finished being out of the room. They graciously let him sit back down and finish his meal, confident of the plan they had in place.

**********  
  


Sally kept her promise and allowed Heero to leave the room once the conversation with Relena turned intensely physical. Up until then, the boy had made an honest effort to be kind and understanding towards his employer while the doctor explained what was happening to her body. She noted that his bedside manner wasn't half bad when he tried hard enough, but his pride would be a major stumbling block if he ever wanted to study and become a doctor himself.

Since the girl hadn't eaten yet that day, they sent Heero to fetch her a late lunch, during which Sally took the opportunity to go into futher detail, once she felt Relena was ready to hear it. By the time her speech was finished, Relena was no longer crying her eyes out, but weighing the situation thoughtfully, like an adult.

"So...this is going to happen every month for the rest of my life?" she asked softly.

"Not exactly," Sally corrected, tilting her head to the side. "It'll taper off in thirty years or so."

Relena slumped forward. "I don't want to live with this over and over for the next thirty years! I hate it already!"

"There, there," Sally cooed, patting the girls fair head, "it's not all that bad. Some good can come out of it, after all...like marriage and children." The doctor felt strange uttering the words she herself had purposely avoided since her own time came, but thought it was what Relena needed to hear.

The girl looked up, stunned by a flying thought that hit her right between the eyes. "Marriage and children..." _That's it! This is exactly what needed to happen! I understand now!_ She turned to Sally with a smile and clasped her hand warmly. "Thank you, Doctor. I think I'll be fine now, and I'm sorry to have troubled you for such a trivial matter."

Sally smiled back. "There's nothing trivial about it." She collected her things and stood to leave. "Call me right away if you have any other questions that you don't feel you can ask of Dr. Pritchard, but don't ignore him either. He's a well-respected professional, and I expect he's been your family doctor since you were a baby."

Relena nodded. "I will." Sally smiled once more and left, leaving Relena alone with her thoughts, which were as fierce and purposeful as they had ever been before. The pieces of the puzzle were all falling into place now, and she saw a glorious new future ahead of her, despite the occasional discomforts she would suffer along the way.

_I see now why Heero isn't so involved with me as I'd like. I was nothing more than a child to him! But now...now I can offer him so much more. I can offer him sons and daughters, and a whole new legacy that will someday inherit Bridlewood! No other woman in London can give him what I can! It's only a matter of time before he realizes that...but I have to keep him from straying in the meantime._

Fortuitously enough for her, Heero chose that exact moment to arrive with her lunch, freshly thrown together by Duo, who preferred to hide in the kitchen rather than hear all the gory details of 'the talk.' He walked in with it silently, put the tray on a raised breakfast tray suitable for putting over one's knees while sitting up in bed, and brought it over to her. He paused at her bedside and they locked eyes for a moment, her gaze being the more powerful of the two, until he broke the contact and set the tray in front of her on top of the bedspread.

"Thank you, Heero," her Ladyship granted. "Stay for a moment and talk with me."

Heero obeyed, standing in place with his hands clasped behind his back, knowing that 'talk with me' often meant 'shut up and listen'. Relena chose her next words very carefully, trying to achieve a desired effect without giving the game away. "I'm very grateful for how you've helped me today, and now I have an additional task for you. It will be a long-term arrangement, but if you find it to be too much of a strain on your regular duties, we can discuss an adjustment in your salary." Heero didn't blink at the mention of money, since he had plenty to spare with or without this job; he did need the job, though, to stay near Treize, and that meant making sure her Ladyship was content with him in every possible way.

"You know now that...that I've _changed_...and the way the young gentleman of London look at me will also change, very soon. I believe it would have been father's wish for me to wait until a suitable gentleman came along, someone the family could be proud of...but father isn't here. He can't protect me from the world the way I know he would have wanted to...and so I'm asking you, Heero...I want you to stay close to me, to be at my side every time I leave this house and keep me safe from the unsavoury characters that might crop up in the months ahead." She folded her hands and smiled. "I need you to keep the howling wolves at bay."

This was a totally different ballgame. Tiny hot pinpricks stabbed at Heero to remind him of what the consequences of this new arrangement might be once he said yes and left that room, but the mission was of the utmost importance, and Relena's happiness was practically essential to the mission. Slowly, feeling an enormous weight lodge itself on his back, Heero nodded. "Whatever your Ladyship desires of me...she shall have."

Relena's smile grew, and her lingering doubts finally began to fade.

**********  
  


Later that evening, when the household had put itself back together and everyone was getting caught up on the latest in-house gossip, Heero finally made it up to his room and found Duo sitting on the bed cuddling the grey kitten. "Guess what!" he said. "Sally came up and took a look at all the kittens while you were busy and told us what all of them are! I mean, boy-girl wise." He leaned over to the twin bed and pointed at the moving balls of fluff. "See, this tan one is a boy...and that splotchy brown one is a girl, the white ones are girls, the one with the black tail is a boy...and this one is a girl!" He finished by hoisting the grey kitten up to ear level and waving it's little paw 'hello' to Heero.

The butler only observed that Duo had tied a length of red satin ribbon around the grey kitten's neck, and was getting far friendlier with it than was really necessary. "She's not yours. Put her down with the rest."

Duo pouted, but did as he was told. He hated the thought of that little grey one being adopted, but he knew that right was right, and he couldn't steal from Dorothy. When he turned around, he saw that Heero had picked up the thick envelope that had arrived for him off of the writing desk. "Oh yeah, that came for you in the mail today."

Heero nodded slightly and opened it. Inside was a wad of papers in numerical order, and he started flipping through them immediately. Curious as the kittens he adored, Duo walked up and poked his nose over the top of the stack and tried to read it upsidedown. "What is it?"

"Trial transcript."

Duo backed away and went ashen. "Oh...y-yeah? No kiddin'..." It had been a comfortable feeling knowing that Heero never knew the awful things that were said about him in the trial, but now he had it all written down in black and white to browse through at his leisure. "How'd you get that? Sweet-talk the court clerk's wife?" the chef joked with a nervous grin.

Heero flipped over the second page and moved on to the third. "Yes."

"Oh." Now it was serious. Heero didn't generally use his powers of persuasion over women unless there was something important at stake, which meant that he wouldn't be dissuaded from reading about anything that happened in the trial. He watched Heero read line after line, feeling the knot in his stomach tighten; eventually, the butler got to a page that made him frown, and Duo knew he must have hit on something particularly terrible.

Heero looked up. "Where's Hilde?"

Duo blinked. "Uh...she and the girls are having a party for Relena in the drawing room..." That wasn't the inquiry he expected, but it only took a moment to realize what it was Heero was after. He threw out a hand to stop the boy by the arm as he turned to leave. "Go easy on her, okay?"

Heero paused and looked over his shoulder. "She'll be fine." Duo let go of his arm, and then he was gone. He went straight down the stairs and made a beeline for the drawing room, where all the women of the house were holding an impromptu celebration for Relena's entrance into womanhood. They had asked Duo to bake her a cake with pink frosting, and they all sat around chatting and drinking hot cider and apologizing for not realizing how badly she needed their guidance earlier.

Heero stood at the door unnoticed, and used his high-temperature gaze to catch Hilde's attention. She excused herself from the group and went out in the hall to see what the butler required of her. When she got near, he could smell liquor on her, and quickly deduced that it wasn't ordinary cider that was being passed around. Without much of an introduction, he opened the trial transcript to the pertinent page and showed it to her. "Why?"

Hilde was only a little tipsy, but didn't seem to see the stark white page three inches from her face. "Why what?"

"Why did you do this?" Heero asked pointedly, tapping the page that displayed her testimony. "Why did you perjure yourself on the witness stand?"

The brunette blinked and read the page, suddenly remembering that she lied under oath about being at the railroad tracks and being kissed by Duo. Up until now, Heero had no idea that Duo had told anyone about the incident, and found it curious that the one person he would have thought would be infuriated by the knowledge chose to look the other way--more than that, to go out of her way to see to it that the truth was never discovered. "Oh, that," she mumbled, smiling, "it was just the right thing to do, that's all."

The white pages went into Heero's jacket pocket, and the two of them looked at each other for awhile; every few seconds, Hilde took another sip of her cider and giggled, making Heero wonder if this was really the best time to be discussing this. Nevertheless, he wanted answers. "He told you what happened...and you weren't upset? I don't understand."

Hilde walked up to him, surrounded by a cloud of alcohol, and dragged a sympathetic and tender hand down the side of his face. "Because I love him," she said with a slur. Then, whether it was a side-effect of the drink or a genuine gesture, she curled her tiny, cream-coloured hand around his cravat tie and pulled herself forward, planting a firm, brandy-soaked kiss right on his lips. Heero staggered backwards a step, but the girl would not be dislodged until she had well and truly had her fill of him, for the moment. She released him and stepped away, giggling faintly at how charmingly bewildered he looked, then sauntered back to the party while looking over her shoulder and giving him a very definite 'come-hither' glance.

To Heero's swirling, perplexed mind, the exchange made absolutely no sense, but he hesitated to tell the one person in the house who might have known her well enough to decipher her behaviour into plain English; he just wasn't sure how Duo would take it. Backpedalling away from the drawing room and accelerating into a full gallop from there to the foot of the servants' stairs, he decided that Duo blathering about the kittens was more logical than a drunken Hilde, and retreated to his room. He wiped off whatever traces of her lipstick might have remained and vowed to give the situation more thought after a good night's sleep; thankfully, every night spent with Duo translated into a good night's sleep.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Twenty-Seven: For decades, a secret has been locked within the walls of Bridlewood Manor, inaccessible to anyone who couldn't unlock the puzzle of where it was hidden. Treize and Heero find themselves vying for the same prize, but who will reach it first?_

I love confusing myself. I love it SO much, it scares me. =^_~= But remember, Mitsugi doesn't do _anything_ without a good reason, so all will be revealed in the fullness of time! Watch my website for the historical notes belonging to this episode: they will include *drumroll* the recipe for tagliatelle primavera! Mmmm, can't you just taste it? =^_~= Next episode is earmarked for November the 22nd, which, according to my handy-dandy wall calendar, appears to be the American Thanksgiving! =^_^= Hopefully, my story is something to be thankful for. *grins bashfully* Ja ne!


	27. The Whisper Walls

No real warnings for this one, it's an interim piece, so it's pretty tame. =^_~= Mostly intrigue...but then intrigue leads to the things in life that are FAR from tame, so it can only benefit us in the long run.

**Disclaimer:** I need one of those memorabilia stores that sells life-size cardboard cutouts of famous celebrities and movie characters. Why? Because I don't have any real Gundam pilots of my own, and I have to make them from scratch, that's why! *cries* I wonder how much paint it would take to turn a Han Solo cutout into a Trowa cutout...

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Twenty-Seven: The Whisper Walls

_"It is wise to disclose what cannot be concealed." ~Johann Friedrich Von Schiller_

November 22nd, 1901

Relying on the hope that the rest of the household would be too engrossed in lunch to notice that they were gone, a cat, a mouse, and a caged tiger crept around places they probably shouldn't have been. While Wufei was out antique shopping for his latest decorating project, Duo and Heero went nosing around the drawing room, looking for what the blueprints of the house said must be there; the little charcoal grey kitten had started following them around the house and decided to join them in a purely supervisory capacity.

Duo kept watch for intruders approaching from down the hall, and Heero walked up and down the length of the wall on either side of the fireplace, knocking on the wood panelling. "Hollow," he remarked to no one in particular. They knew it would be.

"It still bugs me," Duo muttered bitterly from the doorway. "That guy still won't eat anything I cook in this house, like I'm gonna poison him or something. I just wanna get even for what almost happened at the trial, that's all! I've levelled everyone else, but I can't get _near_ this guy..."

Heero was only half listening, concentrating instead on searching for the hidden locking mechanism that would likely crack open the secret chamber within the wall. They had known for several weeks that Wufei had kept the drawing room to himself and made many alterations to it, but as yet, the theory that he had discovered the gap between the wall of that room and the wall of the next hadn't been proven. Heero's thin fingers played deftly over the surface of the wood panels until he felt a tiny seam that only appeared on one board. "...switch..."

"If he was really a man of honour, he'd stay and let me take a few swings at him with some soggy spaghetti, at least, because I won! I'm entitled to my spoils of war, which include wiping that smirk off his face!" Unwilling to admit defeat and yet totally unable to do anything about it, the frustrated chef leaned against the doorframe and sighed. "What's he got against me, anyway?"

It was a reasonable question, and Heero would have answered it on the spot, except that he managed to unlock the hinged wooden panel and swing it out towards him, and the subject was promptly dropped. Duo dashed from the doorway to stand next to Heero, and the boys gazed into the gaping hole in the wall, delicately framed by newly-spun spiderwebs and a few herds of dust bunnies. Heero picked up a gaslamp and lit it with a high flame. "Shut the door and turn out the lights."

Duo did as he was bidden, closing the drawing room doors firmly after taking one last look down the hall in either direction. As he turned out the electric chandeliers, a novelty that hadn't worn off on anyone yet, Heero stepped into the secret passage and pulled the wooden panel shut with a handle located on the inside.

"Duo?" came the muffled call.

"Yeah! Right here!" the chef answered with a sharp knock on the wall.

"Can you see any light leaking out?"

Duo stepped back and thoroughly examined the wall before him. Since the room was on the interior of the house and had no windows, it was plunged completely into darkness, and not a speck of light escaped from Heero's gaslamp. Duo shook his head uselessly. "No. Can't see anything."

"Good," the disembodied voice said without emotion. "Now go out into the hall, turn right, go into the games room and repeat the procedure."

_Simple enough,_ Duo thought. He turned around and wound his way to the games room, which was also without windows. The door was then shut and the lights turned out, and again he couldn't detect any brightness from the pertinent wall. "Heero?"

A ghostly knock sounded, and Duo actually jumped. "Anything?"

"There's no leaks on this side either," Duo said.

There was a click and a creak, and then a slim section of the games room wall swung out, bathing the room in a soft golden light. Heero beckoned to him from the secret passage. "Come and take a look at this." Duo took a few steps towards the opened panel, but Heero quickly put a hand out for pause. "Watch your step, the floor in here is raised by about eight inches."

Mindful of the warning, Duo stepped up to the hidden chamber, then stepped aside so Heero could secure the panel door. There they stood, under a slightly lowered ceiling, sandwiched between the drawing room and the games room, with just enough space to stand single-file without touching the walls; it seemed to be custom-made for people of their height and build. Duo wriggled his shoulders. "Cozy."

Heero flattened himself against the wall and lifted the lantern above their heads. "It gets cozier."

Puzzled by his tone of voice, Duo's eyebrows crinkled until he saw the scene to which Heero was referring. The space between the walls was less than three feet wide and a scant fifteen feet long, but it was far more than a hole in the wall. The floor of the far end was taken up by a thin six-foot pallet for sleeping, and several shelves had been installed above it on all sides, on which were perched very simple everyday items. There was a clock, a lantern, a box of matches and canisters of extra oil, a waterglass turned upside-down, and dozens of metal tins no larger than Duo's fist. He crept forward and knelt down on the pallet as Heero watched, then opened one of the tins and sniffed the contents. He examined four more tins, then sat back on his heels and looked up at Heero.

"Food. It's all food. Dried fruit, nuts, berries, crackers, cured sticks of beef...Wufei could hide in here for days if he wanted to, and nobody would ever notice him. All he has to do is sneak out at night for water, and he's got himself a permanent apartment!"

Heero nodded his agreement and carefully sat the lantern down in the center of the passage. Stepping carefully around it, he walked to the opposite end where the gaslight was creating some interesting...almost _metallic_ reflections. He picked up a long, slender object leaning in the corner and turned around, displaying it for Duo's perusal. It was the gleaming katana Wufei had used against his meagre fireplace poker during their parlour swordfight. "I don't suppose he brought this to butter his bread with," Heero said flatly.

Duo snorted, half in concordance and half in surprise that Heero actually said something remotely funny. Upon further investigation, the butler also discovered four oriental daggers of varying sizes, a length of rope, an iron prybar, and of all things, a crossbow with a dozen arrows beside it. Suddenly it seemed clear that Wufei had come to do some serious damage, not just serious decorating.

"All that, and no guns?" Duo asked quizzically.

"Guns make noise," Heero reminded him, putting the katana back down exactly where he had found it. "Everything in here was chosen for stealth, so that he could eliminate his target and escape before anyone outside this room realized what was going on."

Even in the low orange light, Duo paled. "And who _is_ his target?"

"I wouldn't count either of us out," Heero admitted, stooping to pick up the lantern. "He's a rival agent, and has somehow convinced himself that I stole this assignment from him. It's very easy to see how he might benefit from my sudden disappearance."

Duo leapt up off the pallet, as well as he could in such a narrow space, and gave Heero a desperate look while he brushed himself off. "Then why did he do his damndest to bite _my_ head off in court? What would that've done to get _you_ out of the way? If I've got the bare minimum amount of faith in our friendship, I'd hope that you'd've stuck to him like glue and made sure he got what was coming to him!"

Heero squinted and held his free hand up just in front of Duo's lips; the chef leaned back an inch, wide-eyed, remembering that anyone could have crept up to the outside wall and might be listening to them. It gave Heero a moment to think, however, and for that he was grateful. He never did tell Duo about the bargain Treize offered him, and if Duo worked out that Wufei and the Count were in cahoots, the conversation would just unravel backwards from there. Better to stay off the topic altogether. "We should leave before he comes back."

Duo nodded slowly, not the least bit fooled that there wasn't more to the story. "Yeah...yeah, let's get out of here." They left everything in the passage just as they found it, and no one appeared to be in or around the drawing room when they exited. They were just about to leave altogether when Heero made a brief visual sweep of the room and saw something was missing.

"Where's the cat?"

The boys froze and stared at each other. With a simultaneous gasp, they ran back to the wood panelling and searched frantically for the secret trigger. "Hold on, kitty!" Duo yelled at the wall. "Take shallow breaths and don't chase anything!"

"Did you see her before you left the room?" Heero asked tersely while feeling for the switch.

"Geez, I don't know! I thought she was sitting right over there the whole time! She wouldn't have followed me into the wall, would she? Oh man, what if that sword falls on her or something!? Hey, cat!!" He started banging on the panels, which only made Heero pause and glare at him.

"That's not the way to open anything."

"So where's the switch, hotshot?"

"It..._was_ here..."

Duo made a face and turned around. "Forget this!" He grabbed one of the luxurious blue plush chairs that sat a few feet away and dashed at the wall, brandishing the chair like a battering ram. "I'm coming, kitty!"

Heero looked up at the last moment, saw blue velvet and very hard wood flying at his approximate location at a high rate of speed, and tackled both Duo and the chair to the floor. They landed with a crash, though the chair was the least harmed out of all three of them. While they groaned and gasped and counted their broken ribs, something small and grey padded up on tiny paws and mewed at them sweetly. The boys looked up. The kitten was perfectly unharmed and on the correct side of the wall, where she had been all along. Duo started laughing and couldn't stop for a long time. Heero simply glared.

Once they had recovered sufficiently to put the chair back and erase all evidence of their mishap, Duo picked up the kitten and cuddled her like a baby, speaking to her as such. "You gave us a real scare, didn't you? Yes, you did! Yes, you diiiid!" The chef grinned and tickled her under the chin affectionately, then turned and expressed something he had been pondering since the day began. "Hey, Heero...I can't help but wonder if the three of us, Wufei, and Treize are the only ones who know about these gaps in the walls. I mean, how long has Relena's family been living here? You'd think that in all those years, _somebody_ would have noticed..."

Heero raised an eyebrow; it was a very worthy idea, and deserved looking into. "I think I should find out, don't you?"

**********  
  


The morning mail had been rather late, due to a pounding rain and temperatures that danced around the freezing mark. Their friendly neighbourhood postman had a phobia about catching a chill, and wrapped himself in so many layers on such days that he could hardly move. It slowed his progress along the route and prolonged the amount of time he actually spent in the cold weather, but he never seemed to make the connection.

In any case, a late letter arrived with Quatre's name on it, and it fell into Trowa's hands first. He eyed it with great suspicion, especially after seeing the foreign postmark in the corner, but in spite of his reservations, he took it downstairs to deliver to its rightful owner.

When Trowa left the bottom of the stairs and walked into the bedroom, Quatre was seated cross-legged on his bed, reading quietly, as he had been for the last several days. Cradled in his lap was the usual leather-bound book written in scribblings Trowa couldn't understand, and as he had learned, Quatre wouldn't look up until the particular passage he was studying had been completed. He sat on his own bed and waited.

After a short while, Quatre leaned away from the book, looked up at Trowa, and smiled brightly. "What's up?"

"This came for you." The cinnamon-haired boy held out the letter, almost begging with his eyes for it to be refused.

Quatre felt his friend's fear and took the letter after some hesitation, marking his place in the leather book and setting it aside. He glanced at the postmark, easily identifiable to him as coming from the region of Persia, then glanced up at Trowa, who gave no reaction. He delicately tore open the weathered envelope and unfolded a three-page letter written in the same scribblings as the leather book. With trembling hands, Quatre began at the beginning.

"It's from Shareefa," he said softly. "She's twelve years older than me. She, uh...fled as soon as the fighting started." The boy was clearly struggling to hold back tears as he was reminded of the turmoil in his homeland. He detailed the contents of his sister's letter with a dull, blank stare, trying to distance himself from the unfortunate facts. "Malak and Aalia were killed first. Many others are missing...Salma, Rafa, Nawar...Khalida and Batool..." He read one more name and sank his head into his hand, stricken. "Nadia's gone."

Trowa swallowed. "Is she special?"

"She's the eldest," Quatre sniffed. "She has a husband and children, some older than me. I can only hope she took her family far away when father died. She never would have fought her own sisters, but that's not to say some of them wouldn't fight her. Money and power are too much of a temptation for some people."

"How did Shareefa know where to find you?" Trowa asked, gesturing towards the letter.

Quatre read a little further and frowned. "She says Intisaar left to find me after spying on my bodyguards..." He trailed off and looked away, turning the wheels in his mind until the reference made sense. "Intisaar is a knife-thrower, in secret...part of some street magic she learned as a hobby. It might have been her who threw that dagger at us in the pub, and if it was, she might easily have written home and told Shareefa where I live. The two of them are close."

"If it came down to just them at the end of the tontine, they'd probably get farther apart _really_ fast," Trowa observed sadly. "But if she's such a good shot with a knife, why hasn't she come back for a second try?"

The blond boy gnawed lightly on his lip and looked down. "Some of my sisters were truly fond of me, and Intisaar was one of them. Those like her would rather not have to kill me, so if they want the money that badly, they'll wait for someone else to do it. As for Shareefa...I just don't know." He read the next few lines of the letter and looked up at Trowa with no small amount of terror. "She's coming to England."

For a split second, Trowa was aghast, but his shock was soon replaced with determination. "We should go ahead with our plan, keeping you in the house and hiding swords in as many rooms as we can."

"Even if she _does_ come after me, I don't want to hurt her!" Quatre sighed. "And besides, she hasn't said anything threatening in her letter, so maybe she just wants to get away from the fighting. I can't turn her away."

Trowa sighed back and shook his head. "I wanted to be your friend from the moment I saw you, because you have the kindest heart I've ever known...but you have to put that kindness aside this time, or it could be the death of you." His emerald eyes glimmered dimly as he openly recognized the possibility of losing his soul mate so soon after finding him.

Quatre hesitated. "Well...she doesn't say she's coming to see _me_, just that she's coming to England. Maybe once she's here, she'll just vanish into the crowd to protect herself. That's what I'd do." He could tell Trowa wasn't convinced, but he also couldn't bear to think about it any longer. "Look, this letter was postmarked weeks ago, so she's well on her way to getting here anyway. There's nothing we can do about it."

"We can be ready," Trowa said. "We can do what we planned and prepare a few rooms around the house with weapons, _just_ to defend yourself with if you happen to get caught alone." Reluctantly, the gardener agreed that this was the best and safest course of action for now, and they crept up into the main part of the house with their fencing foils, ready to take some passive action against fate.

**********  
  


Heero waited until Dorothy left to find something else to do before he hunted down his target; Relena was alone at last, but not for long. He found her in the front parlour, curled up in a chair in front of the fire, with both feet tucked underneath her, and her hair draped over the back of the chair like a curtain of golden wheat.

He quietly shut the parlour doors and walked casually to her side. Relena looked up, neither pleased nor displeased, simply floating in a contented haze of tea and firelight. "I haven't summoned you," she observed.

"Am I required to be summoned before entering her Ladyship's presence?" Heero asked smoothly.

Relena smiled, shrugged slightly, and turned back to the roaring fire. "I've never restricted your movement in the house before, have I?" She pointed him to a chair on her right hand side. "Do sit down."

The butler availed himself of her generous offer, then reviewed the plan in his mind. The objective was to find out if Lord Peacecraft knew about the peculiarities of Bridlewood's architecture, or at least if he ever told his daughter about them. Based on prior successes with gently manipulating her Ladyship, Heero anticipated no difficulties. "What were you thinking about?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing in particular," the girl answered softly, still gazing into the brilliant flames, "but the manor's future is always prominent in my mind."

"Really?" Heero mused. "For some reason I imagined you were thinking of the past." He latched both azure eyes onto the side of her face in a smoky, passion-filled stare, or his best approximation of one, as he had been trained to create. Normally, she would have felt his steady vision bouncing off her petal-pink cheek and blushed immediately, but today she was slow to react. "Are you depressed about the thought of your first Christmas without your father?"

Relena's expression hardly changed, and she continued to study the hearth and its warming fire. "It won't be easy..."

"The entire house will feel his loss," the boy persisted in gentle, musical tones, "and I suppose he must have loved this house very much...he must have known absolutely everything about it." He propped his elbow on the armrest of the chair and leaned a little closer to Relena with his chin resting languidly in his palm. "Tell me...what was his favourite thing about Bridlewood? Not the room he spent the most time in or the most money on, but the special, secret places he only shared...with special people." On the last phrase, he lifted his head and reached out to gently brush a few golden strands of hair off the low-cut shoulder of Relena's dress, dangerously close to her skin.

Her Ladyship looked down at the hand, but still did not turn her head. "Heero...you must realize by now that I know that tone all too well. It's the tone you use when you want me to answer question after question about things that don't really matter any more. The past no longer interests me." Her own tone was all sweetness and light, and she spoke to him as if he were no more than a naughty child.

Heero's smouldering gaze quickly dissolved into a look of surprise. Relena should have melted by then, but she was perfectly intact and asserting her personal power to boot. Wondering if she was wise to his tricks, or if the same old routine of heated glances and velvet words had worn on her too long, Heero switched tactics. "In that case, would you like to know your future?"

That caught the girl off guard, and she looked at Heero directly for the first time. In the seconds that she spent wondering what the lad meant by that, he reached out again with his left hand, capturing her right hand and pulling it across the gap between the chairs. Disarmed by her own curiosity, she allowed him to do what he wished.

With a feather-light touch, he traced the lines in her palm, occasionally looking up at her, barely out from under his dark, spiky bangs. "I see splendid things in your future, m'lady. Fame...prosperity...distinction...and _many_ friends." He followed his prediction with the kind of smile that would make any woman blessed with even rudimentary consciousness leap into his arms and volunteer to run away to Tahiti.

It didn't work. Relena smiled again and took her hand back in a very ladylike fashion. "But of course, I already knew that."

Heero leaned back in his chair and blinked away the fog that had suddenly rolled in around his ears. Something was seriously amiss. The test subject was not responding within previously established parameters. Heero was in trouble.

"Can I bring you another cup of tea, m'lady?" he asked, rising deferentially. He was out of ideas; time to retreat and regroup.

"No, thank you," Relena said to the fire. Her loyal servant turned to escape, but after a few steps she leaned over the back of the chair and called out to him. "Heero..." The boy paused and looked her in the eye. "We've had three butlers in two years, but I can honestly say that I've enjoyed your company the most."

Heero absorbed that for a moment, nodded, and left, feeling a little shell-shocked but thankfully still able to walk. Somehow, in a way that defied comprehension, Relena had grown immune to his verbal intoxication, and in less than two weeks. This required serious analysis, but discovering who else knew about the wall niches and what was in them came first, and apparently he would need to take a different route to get there.

**********  
  


Trowa and Quatre made quick work of hiding a few fencing foils around the house, but soon they ran out of swords and were sifting through the attic storage room looking for more. There was a surprising number of weapons in the house already, and within half an hour of starting, they had strategically placed a sword on every floor.

"So, how many does that make, now?" Quatre thought out loud as they shuffled through boxes in the amber lamplight. "One in the pantry behind the sugar..."

"One in the ballroom over the fireplace..." Trowa added.

"One in the laundry cupboard..."

"One in the piano..."

"...and one under the sideboard." Quatre grinned. "Not bad for an afternoon's work."

"There are still a lot of vulnerable areas in the house, though," Trowa said, lifting the lid of a steamer trunk. "If there are any more swords to be found up here, I want them downstairs where they can be of use to you. I'll feel a lot better about letting you roam around the estate alone if I know you'll be able to defend yourself in a pinch."

Quatre agreed while poking through the trunk, but it was just filled with old clothes. They took their lantern to a far corner of the storage room where there were some long, thin crates, but just as they got there, they heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Quatre froze, reaching out with his mind to identify the approaching party, then grabbed the lantern with one hand and Trowa's arm with the other, and dropped to the ground behind some boxes.

As one set of footsteps became two, the boys quickly extinguished the light, and Trowa, deferring to his friend's judgement, crouched low to the floor and remained silent. Slowly, a second orange glow from a second lamp illuminated the room as the intruders walked slowly but confidently inside.

"Ugh! Look at this place!" a young woman's voice whined. "There's dust and filth everywhere! _You_ can wade through this muck if you want, I'm going to see Anna Maria."

"No you're not," a stern male voice followed, "you're going to stay and help me, if you want your share of the takings. Now, get over there and search those boxes."

The boys knew without looking that it was Treize and Dorothy, and Quatre most of all felt that revealing themselves now would be a very bad thing. They looked at each other in puzzlement and slight fear as they heard the pair bickering and opening crates.

Dorothy lifted the lid off one that hadn't been moved in years, and a large, hairy spider crawled over the rim and down the side. The girl screeched, slapped the lid back down and stood on the crate itself, shivering and whimpering. "I hate it here! There's horrible things crawling all over everything! Why don't you just ask Otto where these silly blueprints are instead of dragging me up here to be eaten alive!?"

Treize sighed audibly. "I don't want the servants involved. It would be too easy for them to tell Relena, and she might tell Marlowe, and _then_ where will you and I be?"

Trowa and Quatre looked at each other in the shadows. They had a severe inkling that the Count was up to no good, but whatever his purpose was, the boys were in no position to do anything about it. The more immediate problem was the fact that as the pair searched box after box, they were inching ever closer to where they were hiding; the boys made the unspoken agreement that unless they could sneak past them and escape, discovery was imminent.

Trowa looked to either side of him, peeked over the top of his shelter at Treize and Dorothy's position, and put together a mental map of the storage room based on what he had already seen of it. With a slow hand, he drew invisible lines on the floor to demonstrate to Quatre what route would get them out of the room quickest. The gardener seemed to understand, and nodded; Trowa let him go first, and they slowly began crawling behind boxes and trunks, hoping to slip out under their very noses.

"Oh, _sick!!_ I'm not touching that! It's covered in....._stuff!_"

"Be quiet."

An inch at a time, the boys crawled through a narrow gap in the crates, keeping just below their top surface and not risking another peek at the combatants. Somewhere past the halfway point to safety, Quatre's hand caught the edge of a large, heavily-framed painting; he didn't yell, even though it hurt like the dickens, but it made a little clunking noise that made both boys cringe.

Dorothy spun around and gasped. "What was that!?"

Treize put down the box he was searching with an even louder clunk and rolled his eyes. "Would you _please_ try to concentrate on the task at hand?"

"Something moved over there!" the girl squealed. "By the painting! There's mice up here! Maybe even rats! What if they attack the kittens in the middle of the night!? I can't have them sleeping on the same floor as a colony of bloodthirsty rats!!"

Treize slammed something down that made the loudest noise yet, but the lads didn't dare surrender to their curiosity to peek and see what it was. "You are _really_ trying my patience today," he snarled. Dorothy scowled back. What ensued was a nasty argument that fortunately provided enough background noise for Trowa and Quatre to shimmy across the floor a little faster. They made it almost to the door and risked a tiny glance over the top of a box to see if either of them were looking their way. They weren't, and so the boys slunk out.

They scurried straight into Duo and Heero's room, knowing that two frantic sets of footsteps flying down the stairs would arouse suspicion, and quietly shut the door. In the dim purple light of the setting sun, they heard the mewling of the kittens almost as clearly as the dispute a few yards from the other side of the door.

The boys looked at each other and finally exhaled. "I think we should tell Heero about this," Trowa whispered.

The argument subsided, but before long it was replaced with a very faint sound that grew nearer and nearer. Quatre knew what it was right away, and scrambled for the wedge-shaped block of wood that served as a doorstop. He slipped the narrow edge under the door quietly, then the two of them braced themselves up against Duo's bed, with Quatre's foot pressed against the doorstop, just as the doorknob turned.

Someone on the other side pushed on the doorknob, expecting the door to swing open; the boys pushed back steadily, straining without breathing to create the simple illusion of a stuck door without confirming that there was anyone inside. It lasted less than ten seconds, but those were the longest ten seconds either of them could remember. Finally, the person on the other side let go of the doorknob and walked away.

Quatre knew it was Treize. "We should _definitely_ tell Heero about this," he whispered back.

**********  
  


"No way," Duo breathed, "she just blew you off?"

Heero shook his head in wonderment, tapping the fingers of one hand on the kitchen table. "Something about her has changed drastically. I can't get any information out of her anymore." _Maybe my abilities are failing...or maybe they're spiralling out of control without my knowing it, and having unexpected effects on the people around me. Maybe that's why Hilde--_

"You don't suppose she knows something about the secret passages and she's just being coy about it?" Duo interrupted innocently.

The butler squinted. "I didn't even get near the topic of architecture. As soon as I mentioned her father, she shut me out." He glanced over at the charcoal grey kitten, who was having a small dish of mashed tuna for her tea, lovingly prepared by her violet-eyed pet mouse. "She did mention something else interesting...she brought up the subject of how many butlers have worked here. We knew about Henry Wagner, but we've ignored his predecessor. Whoever he is, he should know just as much about this house as Lord Peacecraft did. We should find him."

"If he's even still alive," Duo reminded him, scratching the kitten behind her ears. "Not only do we not know who he was, but we don't know why he left."

"Good point," Heero said with a nod. "I want to know why Treize wants this house so badly. I'm convinced that he does, but from what Otto's told me of the country estate, _that_ house is much larger, with acres and acres of land around it. It could even be worth _more_ than Bridlewood, and yet Treize is here. The secret passages must have something to do with it, and this former butler may be the only person who can tell us why."

The kitten licked her chops and looked up at Heero for a moment, then pricked up her sensitive ears and turned her head towards the west stairs. Sure enough, someone was clomping down the wooden steps, and the cat had been the first to hear it. Finally, from the narrow, rickety staircase, covered in dust from head to foot and looking terribly twitchy, came Quatre and Trowa.

"Whoa! What happened to you guys?" the chef crowed.

Quatre immediately took a chair next to Heero. "We need to talk."

"So talk," Heero said.

"Okay..." The blond boy clasped his hands in front of him on the table and took a deep breath. "Why would Count Khushrenada be looking for the blueprints to this house? And why wouldn't he want Miss Relena to know he wanted them?"

"And why would he try to force his way into your room?" Trowa asked in a stern voice. He stood directly behind Quatre with his arms folded, adopting a posture and glare that suggested if Treize wanted to sneak into Heero's room, there must be some unsavoury reason for it, something Heero wasn't telling them.

Heero betrayed no hint of surprise or guilt, and Duo shifted his attention to the kitten to avoid displaying any stray emotions of his own. "I don't know," Heero lied, "do you think we should tell her?"

Quatre studied his face, as well as his heart, and knew that he was lying. "We don't know either, that's why we came to see _you._ If anyone's going to tell her that her uncle is acting suspiciously, it should be the senior indoor staff." He paused to gauge Heero's reaction. "Do you think we should tell Otto instead?"

Duo looked up without moving his head and made brief eye contact with his partner. Still stone-faced and visually unreadable, Heero leaned back in a commanding manner. "No. Something like this needs to be handled with tact, and tact isn't Otto's best quality, but as yet, I don't believe that the Count has done anything wrong. Blueprints of the house one happens to be living in are hardly classified information, and until the kittens are adopted, our room has an open-door policy. If I see any merit in telling her Ladyship about this, I will do so, but I don't deem it necessary right now."

Quatre slowly leaned back, then rose. "Right...well...I'm glad we had this little chat." He turned around and tugged Trowa away by the sleeve. As soon as they were out of earshot, the recap began.

"Why didn't you tell him Dorothy was there?" Trowa asked in an energetic whisper. "Or that we had to crawl through inch-deep dust to get out of that storage room without getting caught?"

"Because he's lying," Quatre snapped with an uncharacteristic glare. "He's not telling me the whole truth, so I don't see why I should tell him the whole truth. Not until we know what's going on."

They retreated to their room to think things over, and figure out if this new development was in any way a threat to their own goals. _I understand,_ Trowa thought along the way, _I don't think I trust Heero either._

Back in the kitchen, the cat, the mouse, and the caged tiger looked at each other with a bit of worry. Deep down they knew the exchange with Quatre was only convincing on the surface, and they had no way of knowing how the boy would interpret Heero's misleading words. "What now?" Duo asked, cuddling the kitten for emotional security.

"Now," Heero said, running a hand through his hair in a rare show of anxiety, "we have a problem."

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Twenty-Eight: It's adoption day for the kittens, but like anything else at Bridlewood, it's not guaranteed to be a smooth ride. The simple question of what's in the walls starts to explode into a fiendish plot that will take some time to unravel, and while Duo and Heero work to decode the mysterious clues left behind, the climate of the house is beginning to change._

=^_^= Happy (American) Thanksgiving! (I had my turkey last month, if you don't count the turkey I'm dating.) I'm in a bit of a rush to send this to my editor-in-chieftess, so I'll close simply by saying, next episode will arrive on November 30th! Cyaz!


	28. Little Things Mean A Lot

No warnings about this one either, just nice, normal plots against peoples lives, and all that fun stuff. =^_^= Oh yes, and a bedroom scene...*gasp!* =P

**Disclaimer:** I need one of those memorabilia stores that sells life-size cardboard cutouts of famous celebrities and movie characters. Why? Because I don't have any real Gundam pilots of my own, and I have to make them from scratch, that's why! *cries* I wonder how much paint it would take to turn a Han Solo cutout into a Trowa cutout...

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Twenty-Eight: Little Things Mean A Lot

_"Where there are friends, there is wealth." ~Titus Maccius Plautus_

November 30th, 1901

In the months he had already spent at Bridlewood, Duo had gotten very used to the little luxuries he could never have afforded to buy for himself, including the all-important alarm clock. Waking up to a clanging bell had become quite acceptable; waking up to Dorothy pounding on the bedroom door and yelling had not.

"Shake a leg, you slackers!" she bellowed through the door. "It's quarter to seven already, and I've got deliveries to make!"

With a groan that started in his belly and grew in severity as it crawled up his throat, Duo prodded his bunkmate sharply in the shoulder and sat up. Amidst more pounding and shouting, the boys got up and opened the door for Dorothy, whose mind was too taken up with business matters to have any qualms about seeing two young men in their rumpled sleepwear.

"About flaming time!" she hollered at the drowsy youths as she pushed past them with a cloth-lined basket. "Now then, how are my darling sweeties this morning? Did you enjoy your last sleep in this ratty old attic? No? Oh, my poor babies..." Dorothy took on a sugary tone as she leaned over Heero's bed to take stock of the kittens. One by one, she lovingly picked them up and put them in the basket. "You're going to nice _new_ homes now! And you're going to have the finest of everything! Yes, you are!"

Heero was standing by the writing desk with his arms folded, while Duo sat on the other bed looking forlornly at the scene. He had truly enjoyed having the kittens in the room with them, for many reasons, and it was a severe wrench to see them go. Heero made a mental note to take the boy out someplace nice later to cheer him up.

"...four...five...six! That's all of them!" Dorothy hung the basketful of mewling kittens off one arm and gingerly scooped up Anna Maria with the other, then turned around to actually make eye contact with the boys. "I suppose I should thank you for watching over them for me. You certainly saved me a great deal of trouble, and I'll be speaking to Miss Relena about a small bonus for your efforts." She flashed them a brief and matronly smile, then sauntered out with her collection of fur.

Duo pouted. "A bonus. Yippee. I'd rather have the kittens back. Money doesn't love you. Money can't lick your face and purr when you rub it's tummy. Well, maybe it can, but that just means it's time to quit drinking. Man, this sucks."

Heero wasn't listening to his partner moan about the loss; the part of his brain that was awake was instead replaying the sound of Dorothy counting the kittens and wondering what was wrong with it. It would have to wait until after his morning coffee, however, and _well_ after he'd devoted his grey matter to more important things.

A slightly sleepy Hilde trotted in next, and picked up the cats' sandbox wearing Quatre's gardening gloves. "Miss Relena's letting us air out your mattress on the back terrace, and I'll be back for the linens in a minute," she said to Heero, only half-looking at him. As the girl turned to leave, she caught sight of Duo's miserable expression and cooed at him in sympathy. "Aw, don't be so cut up about it, Duo! They're going to have a better life now, with rich owners and all the salmon they can eat!"

"Mmph," Duo moped audibly as she left. He paused a few beats, looked up at Heero, his violet eyes dimmed by despair, and waited in vain for the other boy to offer some comforting words. None came. _Gee, way to console me in my hour of need, Heero,_ he thought bitterly. Making another gruff noise from the back of his throat, he pushed himself off the bed and shoved past Heero on his way to the bathroom.

Heero wasn't sure what to make of it; to him, it seemed as if Duo was turning the kittens' departure into a far bigger deal than it should have been. _Never mind...soon I'll have my own space back at last._ The sigh of relief Heero indulged in set him up for a cosmic joke of the highest degree; as he bent down to pick up the pillow Dorothy had relocated carelessly to the floor, something moved out of the corner of his eye...something on his bed.

Already glaring, Heero levelled his head and scanned the well-scratched bed sheets for movement. Then, something mewed. Heero cringed and whipped off the top sheet; the little charcoal grey kitten mewed again and looked up at him, proudly wearing the red satin ribbon Duo had procured for her.

Swearing under his breath, Heero picked up the stray feline and ran through the attic to the front storage room. By the time he reached the window and peered down at the street, Dorothy was already getting into Relena's carriage, with a warm blanket covering the basket on her arm. Trowa snapped the reins as soon as she was inside, and then it was too late; they drove off through the gently falling snow, not to return until the basket was emptied.

Heero looked down at the kitten in his hand and frowned. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

"Mew," the kitten said.

"What's the big emergency out there?" Duo called from the bathroom door. "Who's running?" He poked his head out and looked around for any signs of distress, while re-braiding his hair.

Heero slowly walked out of the storage room looking a little defeated and carrying the furry conspirator. Upon seeing them both, Duo's face lit up like a firecracker and he raced over to them right away. "Dorothy left this one behind, and I couldn't catch her in time," Heero explained solemnly.

"That's right!" Duo exclaimed, taking the kitten and cuddling her fondly. "She only counted six, and this one's number seven! If she's found homes for all the rest, then this one has nowhere to go! That means she's ours by default!"

"Duo, _no_..."

"Come on! She won't be any trouble, honest! I'll look after her, I promise! As long as Dot gets her money from the other adoptions, she won't miss this one! You saw her, she can't count! Pleeeeease?"

The rapid-fire begging combined with two pairs of dewy eyes hacking chunks out of his resolve were too much for Heero. He waved them off and shook his head, already in a bad mood. "Whatever. I don't care."

The boy stalked off in a huff, and Duo scratched his new pet under the chin and smiled. "Don't mind him, kitty...he's got a lot on his mind lately." Indeed, they would both have a lot to deal with in a few hours' time.

**********  
  


When Heero began investigating the man who served as butler before Henry Wagner a few days earlier, he slammed into a brick wall. Relena refused to discuss him, and seemed more interested in pouring wine down Heero's throat and talking about moonlit walks through the park behind the estate. Doris and Bethany clammed up as well, though they were very apologetic about it. Heero didn't even try Treize, Otto, or Elsie, for obvious reasons.

That left Arthur as the sole member of the household who had been around long enough to recall the man. True to his word, Arthur came through for Heero once again, with enough information to kick off his search in proper fashion. Right after breakfast on Saturday morning, he and Duo left the house, nipped around the corner, and hailed a cab from there. The snow was falling harder now, and Heero made sure to bring enough money to buy each of them a warm winter coat on the way back, but first, they had some official business to attend to.

"So, where are we going?" Duo asked, rubbing his hands together briskly after pulling the cab door shut.

"I found out where he is, but it wasn't easy," Heero began. "His name is Pegan. He was in service for seventeen years before an apparent stroke sent him to hospital early last year."

Duo sat back and blinked rapidly. "_Apparent_ stroke? How do you end up in the hospital with an _apparent_ stroke? Do people get hit by apparent horse-drawn buggies too?"

"Arthur thought it was suspicious at the time, so he tried to find out if it was true," Heero continued, "but it seems that Lord Peacecraft himself ordered him not to pursue the matter, along with the rest of the staff. Pegan's name was never to be spoken again, and they were forbidden from trying to contact him. They accepted the order without question, and Relena eventually came to think that he'd been guilty of some hideous crime against the family, and was let go for that reason. She's never thought twice about her father's judgement, even to this day."

"But Arthur's not that gullible," Duo concluded for him.

"Thankfully, no." Every few blocks, Heero looked out the window to take note of streets and landmarks along the way. After a half-hour ride through the city, they arrived at the address he had put together from Arthur's helpful hints, as well as his own official inquiries. The carriage came to a halt. "We're here."

The pertinent building was on Duo's side of the cab, and he looked up at it in awe, not to mention squeamish fear. It was a sturdy brick monolith, bland and featureless except for tiny square windows without curtains or decoration, that punched dark holes in the stark, white-washed outer exterior. The few trees and shrubs dotting the property were scraggly and unkempt, their dead leaves blowing around the concrete front steps in miniature tornados of dust and snow. The tarnished plaque above the door read 'Our Lady of the Scapular, Sanitarium, Est. 1871.'

Duo shivered. "A sanitarium? Worse, a sanitarium run by the penguins!?" He snapped his head around, eyes bulging. "You know what it's bound to be like in there, don't you? It's a glorified mental institution! Look at the place!"

Heero leaned over to evaluate the building for himself, and his silence confirmed that Duo had a valid point. The lack of activity certainly wasn't indicative of a bustling health spa. "Yes, well...let's find out." He all but pushed Duo out of the cab and they jogged up to the imposing building, bracing themselves against the chilling wind.

Inside, they found only minimal staff, all holy sisters performing the Lord's work among the sick and the desperate. There was a mausoleum-like silence about the place, occasionally punctuated by a wild cry from...somewhere. Duo was right about it being a home for the sanity-challenged.

After a quiet word with the mother superior, they were led down a maze of bleak hallways, past dozens of wards filled with all manner of patients. Mobile and invalid, coherent and comatose, docile and maniacal, they were all there, filling up the spaces between the stained ceilings and bleached floors without purpose or pattern. The lucky ones weren't strapped down to their beds; the very lucky ones were allowed cutlery at mealtimes.

Duo was completely lost and felt a bit sick by the time they found the correct ward, and he clung to Heero's arm fiercely. They entered the room and the door was shut behind them, securing them inside with the ward's only resident, an elderly man in a wheelchair.

He sat calmly with an afghan draped over his legs, staring out the tiny square window at the wall of a neighbouring building. Thick white hair and a dignified matching moustache set him apart from the other inmates, who were in varying stages of physical decay, but it was the only noticeable difference, other than his silence. All he had besides the wheelchair, a blanket, and the clothes on his back was a bed and a table; no books, no knickknacks, nothing at all of interest. With nothing to do and nowhere to go, he sat and stared, ate and slept, then sat and stared some more. All day, every day.

The boys approached him slowly, standing beside the window but not blocking the man's view, what meagre view there was. Heero tried to catch his eye, but he was unresponsive. "Are you Pegan?" They waited patiently, but there was no answer. "We've come from Bridlewood Manor to discuss Lord Peacecraft. Will you talk to us?"

It wasn't even clear that the man could hear him. Duo pulled Heero aside and whispered to him nonetheless. "Are you sure he didn't have a stroke for real? There's something not right about him."

Heero shook his head. "I think he can hear, but I don't know how to communicate with someone who won't acknowledge me."

Duo smirked. "They didn't cover passive resistance in your subversion classes?"

"I must have been sick that day," Heero said, returning a bit of the lopsided smile. "We don't have much time. You try."

With a hopeful shrug, Duo walked in front of the window and crouched down below it, tugging his braid over his shoulder so he could keep it from dragging on the ground. "Hey there," he began in an uncertain tone, "we just have a couple of questions about the house, mostly. We'd ask his Lordship if he was still around, but...well, there you are. So, um...maybe you could fill in the gaps, 'cause Miss Relena isn't naturally helpful, and we've kindof alienated most of the rest of the household..."

At the mention of Relena's name, the man twitched and looked away. Duo knew he'd struck a nerve, so he gently pressed it. "You miss her? She hasn't come to see you, has she?" The man blinked uncomfortably. "I'm sure she meant to visit you, she just gets busy and forgets things. I bet we could get her to drop by for Christmas, would you like that?"

Suddenly, the man's eyes seemed to spring to life, like a switch being thrown, and he made visual contact with the crouching boy, showing attentiveness for the first time. He slowly looked up at Heero, then back down at the friendly foreigner. "They didn't send you," he said weakly. It was more of a realization than a question.

"What do you mean, they didn't send us?" Heero asked.

"Miss Relena...she's not allowed to see me. That's why you couldn't be..." The old man grabbed two handfuls of his afghan and shrank away from Heero. "Who _are_ you?"

"It's okay, we're not going to hurt you!" Duo insisted with a kind smile. "My name's Duo. I'm Relena's cook now...and that's Heero. He's the new butler."

"Why don't you start at the beginning," Heero said in a quiet but authoritative voice, "and tell us how you got here?" He took a step forward and the old man shied away again, but Duo sat right down on the floor and gave him an endearing smile to let him know that all would be well.

"You're..._investigating_ inside the manor?" the gentleman whispered cautiously. Duo nodded, and the man sat back in his wheelchair to collect his thoughts; slowly and with great sadness creeping into his trembling voice, he began to tell his story. "You're quite right...I _am_ Pegan. I was in service to the Peacecraft family for many years...until things started to change.

"Our family doctor, Benjamin Pritchard, went on leave suddenly, and handed all his patients over to other physicians. We became the responsibility of a Dr. Laval from France, whom I didn't know and could find no credentials for. It was he who immediately diagnosed Lord Peacecraft as having a weak heart. He insisted that his Lordship take a full physical, after which Dr. Laval prescribed some pills for him."

Duo and Heero looked at each other; this wasn't at all what they came for, but it sounded juicy. The questions about the hidden wall niches could wait.

"His Lordship began taking the pills, and all seemed normal," Pegan continued, "until I received an anonymous letter ordering me to double his dosage. Thinking it was a prank, I wrote back saying that I would do no such thing without word from Dr. Pritchard, and that if there was any more harassment, I would telephone the police and let them sort it out." He paused and wrung the blanket over his legs in silent agony. "Another letter came...saying that if I didn't do what was asked of me, I would be forced to leave Bridlewood and never return, and that if I told _anyone_ about the letters, especially the police...something _dreadful_ would happen to Miss Relena!"

He choked out a sob, and Duo got up quickly to pat his back comfortingly. Heero turned and started walking around the dinky room, running a hand through his hair as he weighed carefully the implications of Pegan's story. _This man leaves, Treize puts Wagner in his place, Lord Peacecraft dies and Wagner disappears. It can't be a coincidence!_

"I faked my illness to get away," the man sighed. "I hated leaving the family to battle forces unknown, but I couldn't bear having anything happen to Relena! She's a dear girl, and I've known her since she was a baby! I knew as soon as his Lordship died that I'd failed him...but there was nothing I could do...I had to choose between my master and his daughter, and I could never have any contact with the family again, or she'd be..." Pegan broke down again, for good, it appeared. Duo did all he could to calm him down, but finally being able to tell his secret after nearly two years of silence was liberation and a burden at the same time.

Heero could smell Treize's influence all over it. He had known since his arrival that Lord Peacecraft died suddenly and without warning, but now he had a voracious interest in how he died and what was in the pills he was taking. "What did Laval prescribe for his Lordship? Was it chlorodyne? Digitalis? A barbiturate?"

"I...I don't remember," Pegan stammered. "It's so difficult to remember small details anymore...I wish I could..."

"Don't upset him, Heero," Duo said softly, "his brain's been rotting in this place with nothing to do, it's not surprising that he's forgotten a few things. Why don't we ask Sally's opinion? She's the closest thing we've got to a medical expert, isn't she?"

"Oh, please don't involve anyone else!" Pegan begged, grasping Duo's arm. "I shouldn't have even risked telling you! If they find out I've spoken to anyone--"

"They won't! They won't!" Duo exclaimed, not even being sure who 'they' were. He crept nearer to the man and took hold of his arm to steady him. "We're on the same side here, I promise."

Heero took another step forward, a smaller one this time. "You have my word, no matter what happens because of this, Relena will be kept safe." The implications of his promise skittered around the room and out the door before he could give them serious thought, so in reality, the boy had no concept of what he was committing himself to.

Regardless of the risks, Pegan seemed to calm down after that. "Oh, _thank_ you, sir! I don't know what made me tell this to you before hearing your kind assurance. I just feel so starved for human contact in this place...for Relena's safety, I made his Lordship forbid them all from visiting me." He leaned towards Heero with the first sparkle his eyes had shown in nearly two years. "Tell me, did Prudence have a baby girl like she wanted? And did Timothy hear from his brother in Wales? Does Rosemary still have housemaid's knee? There's so much I need to catch up on!"

The boys exchanged slightly uncomfortable glances, and Heero could tell that his partner wasn't up to dashing the old man's hopes that the manor had held itself together without him. "A lot of things have changed at Bridlewood since you left," Heero said, noting how the sparkle faded a bit. "We can't take you back with us, not yet...but we won't leave you here indefinitely."

Duo saw the petrified look on Pegan's face and caught Heero's eye. "What if someone finds out he squealed? What if they come after him?"

Heero sighed. _Baka, you don't have to draw his attention to it!_ Sadly, he looked down at Pegan and saw that the damage was done; the man only stopped himself from trembling through a Herculean effort born of British pride. After a moment's thought, Heero lowered himself onto one knee by Pegan's side and took out his gold pocketwatch. He opened up the front cover and took out a round white wafer wrapped in transparent film, put it in his pocket, then held the watch out to him.

"We'll check in on you from time to time, but until we can get you out of here safely, I want you to keep this." He pointed to the dial on the side of the watch. "If anyone else visits you and you don't feel safe around them, set this watch to midnight and pull out the dial. The back will open, and the area within five feet of you will be filled with smoke. _Don't_ inhale it." Pegan nodded at the strange instructions, unfazed, while Duo observed with intense curiosity, especially about the round wafer that had been removed from the watch. "The smoke will either knock them out or startle them long enough that you can call for help. Do you understand?"

The man nodded again, earnestly, and gratefully accepted the watch. "Thank you very much indeed. I won't keep you any longer, gentlemen...now, please go back to Bridlewood and watch over Miss Relena for me."

The boys rose and said their goodbyes, leaving the kindly old butler to the care of the nuns dressed as nurses. On their way out to find another cabbie, they agreed that it was a terrible shame, what had happened to him, but even worse was knowing that they couldn't help the man before knowing all the facts and finding out how Treize might have been involved. Unfortunately, they ran out of decent conversation waiting for a cab in the desolate corner of London, and stood shivering on the pavement in semi-silence.

Duo couldn't get the round white wafer out of his mind. Ever since he found out what Heero's real job was, he'd been diving into spy stories and knew all about master spies carrying cyanide tablets in case they were caught. It was unsettling. "Cool watch."

"Mm." If there was anything sinister about the wafer, Heero certainly wasn't giving out any free hints.

A sudden gust whipped snow in their faces and they turned away from the wind, squinting involuntarily. Duo clutched the sides of his black frock coat closer about him and shivered, inching towards Heero. "I _hate_ the cold...it's the worst part of being homeless, you know. You can go for a month without food, a week without water, but if it gets cold enough, you can lose all your fingers and toes in one night."

Heero continued to look down the street, waiting for any vehicle for hire to happen along. "Don't worry. We're going straight to Henry Poole's next...get you a warmer coat and some gloves..."

Even Duo, with his lower class background, knew that Henry Poole & Co. were the most upmarket tailors to inhabit the prestigious Savile Row, and regularly outfitted the Prince of Wales; nothing but the best for Mr. Yuy's assistant. "First class all the way, right? Thanks." Duo stared at the side of his friend's head and wondered why the first thing Heero often did to solve a problem was to throw money at it. _One of these days I'll make you see that your time is worth much more to me than your money. Too bad that your time seems to be the more difficult of the two to give away._ "Shame we couldn't take that guy with us."

"Far too dangerous. I've already promised to guard Relena, I couldn't possibly protect them both all the time."

"Right." The chef told himself he should probably drop the subject, but as usual, he didn't listen. Braving the wind, he turned slightly towards Heero, who continued to stare up the street. "Is that how you see me, too? A liability?" There was little or no reaction from Heero, just a slight shift of tension in his neck muscles. "I hate it when you have to tell me to stay away from you because it's too dangerous, or because you can't focus on your work if you have to protect me. I don't wanna be like that guy, Heero! I don't want you to hand me a watch someday, telling me to pull the dial out if I get in trouble, when where I _should_ be is next to you, no matter how dangerous it is!"

Finally Heero turned his head, but he didn't look pleased. Just one more thing to worry about on an overall irritating day. "What would you have me do?"

Duo froze. It was a legitimate question, but the speed at which Heero forced his hand took him by surprise. _No use backing out now, he's gonna know I've been thinking about this for awhile no matter what I say._ He swallowed. "Teach me how to fight." The other boy's eyes took on a curious half-glare, but Duo pressed on. "I know you've fought tooth and nail to keep me out of the gritty side of things, but if that's where you are, that's where I want to be, and the only way I can get there is if I can look after myself. You can show me how, and then I won't be a bad risk anymore. I...I really want this...please."

Heero listened to his arguments judiciously and weighed the pros and cons within seconds. Slowly, he nodded. "Alright."

The sudden agreement knocked Duo backwards about three inches, and his eyes bulged. "Whoa...really? You mean that?"

"It's logical, and not outside our means," Heero said plainly with a small shrug. "Not this week, though. Relena has far too much planned for me already. Next week, on Sunday. I'll tell her I have plans. Agreed?"

"Done," Duo said with a smile. He didn't mind Heero being overly business-like about it, as long as he followed through with his promise, and he'd never broken a promise to Duo yet. Soon after the matter was settled, a carriage for hire finally happened across the desolate street by which they stood, and they flagged it down with icy hands, chilled to the bone and glad of a bit of shelter. They drove off in search of warmer clothes, scarves, gloves, and anything else they might need for the long winter ahead.

**********  
  


"She's really going on holiday to that drab little place in Hampshire?" the fashionable brunette scoffed, petting her newly-delivered caramel-coloured kitten. "How gauche! Everybody's going to Spain this year! Doesn't the poor girl read the society column anymore?"

Dorothy leaned back in the plush green chair centered in Lady Une's parlour and cradled her cup of tea. "Well, not exactly...I mean, Hampshire is probably where she _will_ go..._if_ I can convince her that it's the right thing to do. The thing of it is...if she goes to her country estate, she likely won't be taking Quatre with her. Why should she? His place is at Bridlewood, and the house in Hampshire must have it's own gardening staff, right? There'd be no need for him there!"

Lady Une stood at the window, watching the snow fall and nursing her own cup of tea. "So the house will be practically empty? And the poor little rich boy would be all alone with no one to comfort him in the night, how terrible..." She smiled her most devious smile and sauntered back to her chair, opposite Dorothy's.

"That's not quite what I had in mind," Dorothy said, remembering with distaste how badly she had failed in her previous attempts at seduction. "He's a wanted man, don't forget, and if his sisters are planning to make their move when the fewest possible witnesses are likely to be around, that would be the time to do it, when the house is empty. Starting as soon as possible, I could use some backup."

"Ah, I see," Une said, nodding thoughtfully. "I can recommend some darling men I often use as bodyguards. They're very good at what they do, and they're reasonably priced. A handful of them should keep you and your petit paramour safe while her Ladyship is away. I could have one or two watching him as soon as this Monday."

"Oh, would you?" Dorothy begged obsequiously. "I'd be _ever_ so grateful."

"Now, now, my dear, I don't require your gratitude," Une sang between sips of the leafy brew, "just my rightful share of the money when it comes time to divide it." She let her new kitten snuggle warmly into her lap, and was impressed at how socialized it was, to be able to drift right off to sleep in the middle of a conversation and not be bothered by the human commotion around it.

Dorothy smiled. "Of course, m'lady. Our agreement still stands."

**********  
  


No sooner had the intrepid investigators set foot back on Bridlewood territory than Relena popped out of a distant doorway and sped towards them with her managerial face on. Heero cringed inwardly, but there was nowhere to run.

"Heero," she addressed him regally, coming to an abrupt halt that her flowing dress only half obeyed, "you and I are going to the opera next Sunday, so be sure to wear something stylish for me." Her hands were neatly folded and held waist-high, and her chin was pointed boldly upward. She seemed to have been studying how to say 'my word is law' in body language.

The butler could just about hear Duo's face falling as he saw his first self-defence lesson evaporate in favour of her Ladyship's wishes, but Heero would have none of it. "Forgive me, m'lady, but I can't possibly--"

"Oh, of course you can! Wear your dark grey with the pinstripe. That's your nicest, for town." In a flutter of cranberry silk and lace, Relena turned and walked away before any further protests could be lodged. At the last moment before she disappeared altogether, she called out to him over her shoulder. "I'll be expecting you for lunch soon! Don't stand there _too_ long!"

With that brief dialogue, Duo's world got a little colder, even though he was out of the snow. Without a word or even a glance in Heero's direction, he shuffled dejectedly towards the back stairs on his way to prepare lunch, thanklessly and mirthlessly, with his braid drooping and his head bowed. Heero watched him go and reflected on the rather strained week they had spent--or rather, had _not_ spent--in each other's company.

Duo marched down to the kitchen, still wearing the thick black overcoat; he barely noticed its presence until he was slumped at the kitchen table. He took off his new scarf and gloves in their rich royal blue and set them on the table in front of him, staring numbly at the soft, luxurious fabric. _Just another quick fix. Buy Duo a present and he'll shut up for awhile. The easiest solution is always the best one, right Heero? Well...I don't feel like anything's been fixed._

For the last week or more, Relena had come first in everything. Heero was at her beck and call more often than usual, and because of the way she relentlessly monopolized his time, there was none left for him to spend reading with Duo, or teaching him Japanese, or just to sit and talk, like they used to. Duo realized with bitterness that he should have known the promise of martial arts training was too good to be true. Painfully alone again, he sat and stared at the scarf and gloves some more, but the empty feeling wouldn't go away; they were a poor substitute for a best friend.

**********  
  


As the moon rose over the perpetual cloud of fog and snow over London, Duo slunk into bed early, taking up the left hand side of the double bed, farthest from the wall, where Heero usually slept. Since he was going back to his own bed tonight, it hardly mattered whose side Duo was on. Now his sole companion was the charcoal grey kitten who was momentarily without a place to lay her furry head. She padded around the fluffy bedcovers, testing out the strange new landscape under her paws, and was too excited to sleep.

As soon as the chef heard Heero's unmistakable light footsteps on the stairs, he rolled over to face the wall and pretended to be asleep, tugging the covers tightly around him. The room seemed unbearably cold, but then even with the thick winter coat on, he was freezing from the inside out, so it was difficult to tell the difference.

After some shuffling around, Heero found a blanketed lump where the usually chatty chef should have been, and knew he was upset. However, rather than open his mouth, say the wrong thing, and make matters worse, he opted to simply go to bed and hope Duo felt better about life in the morning. He turned out the lantern, got into his old bed, and realized that, despite the fresh linens and setting the mattress out in the snow on the back terrace for twelve hours, it still smelled like cat. And the room was cold. And there were rustling noises and little meows to his left that wouldn't stop.

And he couldn't sleep.

Hours crawled by, slightly slower than a tortoise in a puddle of molasses, and nothing changed, except the rustling and meowing eventually subsided, but it was replaced by a different kind of noise, soft but unnerving. Before long, he concluded that Duo was shivering, and rightly so. Heero got back out of bed, long past midnight, lit the lantern and stood at Duo's bedside, staring down at him.

Apparently, the chef wasn't getting any sleep either, and each second that Heero's icy cold gaze painted snowflakes on the visible part of his chestnut head, Duo got closer and closer to leaping up and smacking the boy upside the head. Eventually, he snapped. "What!?"

"Are you seriously going to keep that animal in here?"

Duo propped himself up on his elbows and glanced down at the foot of the bed, where the kitten was nestled sweetly into the blankets. "Yeah, I seriously am," he declared defiantly. "A whole bunch of us were in the kitchen with her after lunch, trying to think up a name, although you're probably too busy to be remotely interested in what _we_ picked..." He didn't lie back down, as if taunting Heero to give in and ask.

At first, Heero didn't budge, even folded his arms and pasted on a look of indifference. It didn't last. "Alright, what?"

"We named her 'Shadow', because she follows you around all the time."

Heero flinched. "She does?"

"Constantly."

"...I never noticed."

Duo sat up forcefully and rubbed his arms from the cold. "Yeah, well...you don't notice a lot of things anymore. I know it's your job to look after Relena, but she's got you on such a short leash, it's not even funny! That's why you don't notice these niggling little details."

"I noticed you were cold," Heero said. "It's the worst part of being homeless."

"Wow, you listened to me _one_ time," Duo drawled, rolling his eyes. "Doesn't mean you're going to make a habit of it." He'd had about enough for one day by then, and slumped back down beneath the covers. Heero continued to stand over him, and in mere minutes, the braided boy was shivering again.

"Something's wrong with the central heating," Heero said. "It's not going to improve anytime soon, and neither one of us can sleep like this."

"So?"

"So move over."

Duo was instantly torn between his grudge and his crush, but he was never one to waste an opportunity. "No way, pal, this spot's nice and warm. If you want in, you crawl in on the other side. Just move the cat first."

Grateful for some small bit of progress, Heero reached over to the right side of the bed and picked up the kitten with both hands, so gingerly, so tenderly that she didn't even stir in her sleep. Duo watched in awe that someone he knew to be deadly could be gentle just as easily, and just as well, and his angry facade began to melt.

Heero looked around on the floor for a box or a cushion, but found none. "Where should I put her?"

Duo shrugged. "Put her back in your bed. She's _your_ shadow, after all. She only follows _you_, so you owe her."

Tentatively, Heero looked down at the warm ball of fur in his hands and honestly tried to convince himself that the kitten's young nose couldn't tell the difference between him, his bed, and her mother, but the possibility that Shadow followed him because she..._liked_ him...it was nicer. He found he preferred it, and regretted not noticing her sooner. With unerring gentleness, he set Shadow down in his own bed and tucked the blanket loosely around her; then, having used up all his grace for one night and turning out the gaslamp for the second time, he clambered brusquely right over Duo and into the other half of the double bed, ignoring the playfully painful complaints of his bunkmate as limbs were knocked about in all directions.

Duo squeezed his pillow and bit his tongue. _Don't you dare make me laugh! I'm still mad at you!_

"Duo..."

"What?"

"The opera doesn't start until seven in the evening. We can still go to Catherine's basement for some sparring practice. It's up to you." Heero rolled onto his back and settled in comfortably, though his elbow bumped the wall once or twice. "Even so...I would have found a way to do both, or even lied my way out of the opera. I'm sure it's very educational and comes highly recommended, but right now, an afternoon's workout would be preferable."

The clouds lifted. Suddenly, Duo didn't feel like a forgotten detail anymore. "Honest?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"Honest."

The chef happily snuggled into his pillow, secure in the knowledge that he had some importance after all. It was only then that he started to feel the cold slipping away and the warmth creeping in to take it's place, and the treasure of sleep would soon be theirs. He smiled. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Twenty-Nine: Heero's schedule is brimming with pages and pages of social events, but the oddest ones of all will be karate lessons followed by a night at the opera. Duo conveys a message to Sally, who must be let in on some vital information, and Quatre receives another letter and answers it, the consequences of which could be deadly._

Yes, I'm taking some small liberties with Pegan, but it's all in a good cause, as I'm sure you can see! =^_^= Next episode is due out December 8th! Have you finished your Christmas shopping yet? =^_~=


	29. Cage Without Bars

A small warning for **violence** and **slight shounen-ai** content here, but I'm sure any reader of mine can handle it. =^_~=

**Disclaimer:** I need one of those memorabilia stores that sells life-size cardboard cutouts of famous celebrities and movie characters. Why? Because I don't have any real Gundam pilots of my own, and I have to make them from scratch, that's why! *cries* I wonder how much paint it would take to turn a Han Solo cutout into a Trowa cutout...

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Twenty-Nine: Cage Without Bars

_"The first thing you should procure, after faith, is a good friend." ~Arabic proverb_

December 8th, 1901

Treize frowned at the letter over his morning coffee, his third cup since eight o'clock. His subconscious wish may have been to stun enough of his brain cells that the letter would contain something else, something other than a recommendation from his solicitor that he settle his nasty little lawsuit out of court, but it wasn't working. It was going to cost him fifty pounds to square things with Duo, but in the long run, it would still be cheaper than trying to contest his so-called royal pardon in court.

_But what I wouldn't pay to find out where he got it,_ he mused. _No common street rat like him has connections to the throne, any fool can see that. It's a lucky break that he's closely connected to Mr. Yuy...lucky for me, as well, because now I know what sort of connections he has. I may have misjudged his master. Few men in England could have pulled off such a--_

For the umpteenth time in the last twenty minutes, there was a sharp clanging in the walls, floor, and ceiling, pulsating through the pipes and heating ducts like a steel drum band playing a soup cauldron blindfolded. Trapped inside with the awful noise because of the increasingly bitter weather outside, Treize winced and fled his study with coffee in hand, looking for some corner of the house that still enjoyed a degree of silence.

Downstairs in the boiler room, the source of the noise eventually dropped the flat piece of wood he was using to beat on the inside of the heating ducts. "Ah can't find anythin' wrong wi' it," Arthur said, wiping his brow and slapping his tweed cap back on. "If there was summat stuck in there, it should've fallen out by now."

Standing next to him with his arms folded, Heero looked the massive boiler over with hopeless disdain. His and Duo's bedroom was like an igloo, and yet the housemaids, only one door down the hall, were toasty warm. Every other spot in the house had heat, and it was starting to feel like a conspiracy; there was, however, nothing at all wrong with the boiler itself, since both men had their jackets off and were slightly glazed with sweat from the ambient heat. "What other possibilities are there?" Heero asked.

Arthur closed up the heating duct and started out of the hot, cramped boiler room. "Well now...maybe you've got leaks around th' windows. Have ye noticed a draft lately?"

Heero shook his head and followed Arthur out. "No, and it got too cold too fast to be a slow loss of heat."

"All the same, ah think ah'd bett'r have a look at it," Arthur said as he shut the door, blotting his face with his handkerchief and toddling off to the west stairs. "I'll see what I can find."

Heero stared at the boiler room door, as if just glaring at it could restore heat to his room. He gave up quickly and headed out for cooler territory, but on his way to the kitchen to pick up his jacket, a slight movement on the edge of his vision slowed his gait. Shadow, 'his' kitten, and Duo's as well, was peeking up at him from behind the pantry door, which was slightly ajar.

_Baka...if someone shut the door, you'd be trapped in there._ He reached down and picked Shadow up off the floor, thought for a moment, then put her back down again. _Do you really follow me around?_ he asked in his mind, giving the cat a tiny questioning smirk. Keeping his eyes fixed on the feline, he slowly walked to the kitchen door and disappeared through it, breaking into a run up the stairs.

His jacket forgotten, Heero bounded up to the second floor and prowled around looking for a place to hide; he chose a linens cupboard near Dorothy's room, with just enough space to stand inside. Exiting the empty hallway, he concealed himself in the cupboard, shut the door, and waited.

Five minutes or so went by...then ten minutes, although it was difficult to tell without his watch. By fifteen minutes, he was starting to question his own sanity, hiding in a cupboard from a ten-ounce cat, but finally, his suspicion was confirmed. A little scratching sound was heard at the base of the door, and then a minute feline squeak. Heero opened the door in near amazement, and there was Shadow, having somehow followed him up two flights of stairs and through a maze of corridors. What Duo had said was true. "Remarkable," Heero breathed.

Too impressed for further words, he picked Shadow up again and carried her downstairs to the kitchen. Such a marvellous display of tracking and agility certainly deserved some fresh tuna.

**********  
  


Underneath her sly, calculating exterior, Dorothy had a genuinely fond heart that deeply missed Anna Maria during her long stay in the attic, so she had been overcompensating for their separation by spending every free moment cuddling her in some warm corner. However, this resulted in Relena being at a loose end more often than Dorothy intended, and she sought her out that morning to correct the error.

As the Baroness rounded a corner on the main floor, peering into this room and that looking for her Ladyship, Otto came barrelling out of the parlour with balled fists and clomping footsteps, muttering angrily. She couldn't make out everything he said, which was just as well, but the words 'foolish girl' reached her ears nevertheless.

"Otto!" she called out as he lumbered past her. "What's wrong? Is Relena in there?" She pointed daintily in the direction of the parlour, and Otto's dour expression worsened.

"Only _some_ of her," he snapped. "Her brain must be floating down the Thames, though, because it's certainly not under _this_ roof!" Dorothy actually took a nervous step backwards, and the burly house steward forced himself to rein in his temper. "Forgive me, m'lady...she's sitting by the fire, but...maybe you can talk some sense into her, because she just won't listen to me anymore. I give up." Heaving a sigh, Otto resumed his course, slowly, in deep resignation.

By now, Dorothy's curiosity was in overdrive, and the little steam engine that powered her appetite for snooping was pumping away voraciously. She stepped into the parlour and found Relena seated by the fire, just as Otto said, with her hair draped over the back of her chair and her hands folded, looking contemplative. Dorothy took the adjacent chair and smiled sweetly. "Staff problems?"

"Otto doesn't want me to go to the opera tonight," Relena said. Her voice was steady and quiet, as was her calm posture; her decision appeared to have been firmly made, and nothing was going to change it. "I told him I was going with or without his approval. Then he left."

"Why should he object to that?" Dorothy asked with obvious surprise. "And why didn't you tell _me_ we were going out? It's awfully short notice, I must say."

Relena smiled at the fire. "Because I'm taking Heero." She saw Dorothy's look of shock out of the corner of her eye and smiled wider. "I'm sorry. Next time it'll be just you and me, I promise."

"_M'lady,_" Dorothy addressed her, tersely and formally, "I'm not bothered about being left out, and at the same time, I'm afraid I have to agree with Otto! Proper ladies don't attend sophisticated leisurely pursuits with members of the _staff_, it just isn't done!"

"After father died, I went everywhere with Otto, and nobody complained then," Relena countered, her voice rising slightly.

Dorothy narrowed her eyes at her friend. "Yes, but we both know _why_ you want to be alone with Heero, and _that's_ what's improper about it. I really believed it was just a silly girlish crush you had on him, and that you'd grow out of it, but if I knew then that you were going to take it so seriously, I never would have encouraged you!"

Relena snapped her head around, rapidly losing patience. "I won't be told by _anyone_ who I can't be seen with, not even by you. I'm practically a woman now, and that means I ought to be making my _own_ decisions about where I go, what I do, and with whom!" She calmed herself and turned back to the fire, glints of orange and gold flickering across her strangely darkened eyes. "Father's gone...there's no telling whether my brother will ever return...and I can't ask Treize to look after the estate indefinitely, he has his own responsibilities. I have to think of Bridlewood's future as well as my own, and the first step towards securing a future for the manor is to secure one for myself. Not only that, but...there's something about him...something I just can't explain."

In her mind, there was nothing left to be said. Her reasons were sufficient and justifiable, and Dorothy saw no point in arguing with her, lest she jeopardize her nice, cushy lifestyle in favour of a hotel. They let the subject quietly drop.

**********  
  


Heero waited until a little after lunch before suggesting that he and Duo make their way to the Muddy Nag. He explained along the way that when Catherine took over ownership of the pub, there had been a boxing ring set up in the basement, but she found the whole concept of boxing to be violent and offensive, and thus had all the equipment removed except for the mats. Since then, she used the room for parties, meetings, and with ample notice from Heero plus a little extra cash, a karate dojo. Once he convinced her that the kernel philosophy of karate was one of non-violence, he gained himself a nice private practice arena.

Upon arrival via hansom cab, they strode into the pub, greeted Catherine, and headed straight downstairs. The basement had been fitted with electric lights, which probably took up most of her profits just to operate a few hours a week, but she never turned down extra rent money, so it balanced out nicely. It looked like any other basement, with exposed wooden supports in the walls and ceiling, and a hardwood floor installed over concrete. It showed various watermarks from past times when the rain had built up and invaded the pub.

Heero walked over to a tall wooden cupboard, an old converted wine case, and opened it, taking out a soft-edged parcel wrapped in brown butcher's paper and tied with string. He brought it over to Duo and placed it in his hands, then gingerly unwrapped it for him. Inside was something made out of a brilliant white fabric, thick and soft like terry cloth, but with a resilience strangely unlike the material.

"This is your _gi_," Heero told him. "You will wear this during your training, and it will not leave the pub. Laundering will be taken care of by Catherine, as per my existing agreement with her." Next, he handed Duo his room key; by that time, the chef was practically drooling over the gift. "You can change upstairs in my room while I set up down here, and again after practice. You will _not_ leave your gi crumpled in a heap on the floor like you do all your other clothes."

Duo grinned. "Perish the thought."

With an eyebrow raised in unspoken doubt, Heero lifted up the top portion of the gi, revealing a second part underneath. In between the pieces was a length of very sturdy fabric, in the same pristine white, strongly stitched and not more that two inches wide. He took it out and held it separate from the rest of the bundle. "This is your _obi_. The gi may need to be replaced eventually from normal wear and tear, but the obi is stronger, and is yours for life...or until the first day you give it to Shadow for a chew toy."

Duo stuck his tongue out at the remark. "Credit me with _some_ sense, Heero-sensei." While Duo skipped happily upstairs to change, Heero rolled his eyes, took his own gi out of the cupboard, and changed into it on the spot. It showed a bit of wear in places, but it was hardly his first; his belt, however, was far from it's original white, and had turned a dull grey colour over the last six years of use. As he was setting up the practice mats, a part of him was hoping that Duo could figure out how to wear his uniform properly, but when the chef bounced back down the stairs, it was obvious, albeit only to the trained eye, that he had tied his obi incorrectly.

"How do I look?" Duo asked, proudly displaying himself in the white cotton suit with arms outstretched.

Heero looked him over and shook his head once. "Close, but not quite." Ignoring Duo's puzzled look, he stepped forward and nonchalantly grasped the boy's belt where a single, clumsy knot had been tied after wrapping the length of cloth about him only once. He untied it for him, instructing him to keep his arms slightly raised, then walked out of his field of vision.

Duo felt his teacher creep up close behind him and couldn't suppress a shiver of excitement that started at his belly button and spread rapidly up his spine, and then, feeling Heero arms brush his waist nearly made him pass out. His only defence against the white-hot impulses of pleasure pounding through his nervous system was to close his eyes and think of baseball.

Reaching around with both hands, Heero centered the obi in front of Duo's waist, snugly wrapped it twice around the boy's middle, and secured it in the front again with a double overhand knot. "Is that too tight?" Duo failed to answer, locked in a dreamy trance that just got warmer and deeper the longer Heero stood with his arms around him. "Are you paying attention?" Heero barked sharply.

"Huh? Wha--oh! Yeah! I got it, thanks," Duo stammered.

"Did I tie it too tight for you?" Heero repeated with a note of exasperation.

"No, no, feels great!" Duo insisted, taking a deep breath to demonstrate his ease of movement. "Never felt better."

The chef quickly composed himself, and the training began. His first lessons were very simple, covering the most basic things he needed to know about philosophy, discipline, bowing, and the overall code of behaviour for the dojo. Nearly an hour passed before they got to the serious stuff.

"What I'm going to begin teaching you today," Heero said, "is a new method known as _shotokan_. It's very important that you not show these techniques to anyone else, except in battle."

Duo's eyes lit up. "Whoa...is it top-secret? Highly experimental?"

"Unofficial would be a better description. Master Funakoshi may still be refining it to this day, although my own training hasn't been updated since I left Lord Jeffrhyss. There may have been significant advances in the last ten months, but you won't reach that level for some time anyway."

Duo folded his arms and pondered. "What level am I?"

"You don't have a level. You'll be working towards eighth kyu."

"What level are you?"

"I attained first kyu two years ago."

"What's the difference?"

Heero paused, with a curiously devious look that made Duo tremble slightly. The next thing he saw was Heero's arm shooting out towards his shoulder, and suddenly his legs were flying out from under him as well. The wooden ceiling swirled in front of Duo's eyes, and before he knew what was happening, he was flat on his back on the mat and in no small amount of pain. He yelped and gasped, blinking away the brightly coloured lights that seemed to throb in unison with the ringing in his ears.

"_That's_ the difference," Heero said.

".......ow."

Once Duo had full use of his senses back, Heero helped him up off the mat, and the braided boy put on a brave, macho face as if the fall hadn't hurt him in the slightest. Heero smirked. _This could be a rather interesting use of an afternoon,_ he thought. "We'll start with some simple blocks. Watch me carefully."

Duo grinned in satisfaction as the real lessons got underway, after a lengthy series of stretches. As they worked, Heero became increasingly impressed at what a quick learner Duo was; in a very short time, he could reasonably execute four different blocks and demonstrate five different stances, and Heero began thinking that this was an even better idea than Duo had made it out to be. The lessons ended all too quickly for both of them, however, since they had to be back at the manor by a decent hour. Again, Duo was sent upstairs to change, but before he went, Heero actually voiced his approval of the boy's performance that afternoon, especially for one's first lesson ever. That alone was worth all the little bruises Duo had accumulated during the blocking practice.

When he raced up the stairs to the main floor, Duo saw that the sun was setting, and they'd actually been at it longer than they had planned, but his thirst was far from quenched. _Heero's actually proud of me! Alright, maybe he didn't use those exact words, but I can tell! I'm not gonna slack off on these lessons. I'll work harder than I ever have before in my life, if only to make him really proud to have me as his student!_ He was so wrapped up in self-congratulatory thoughts as he changed back into his dark suit and frock coat that he nearly didn't notice the large, flat book poking out from under the bed in Heero's rented room.

Duo blinked and crouched down to look at it; then, ignoring the tiny voice that told him to walk away and leave it alone, he pulled it out. It was a scrapbook, and inside were a myriad of newspaper clippings, some of which he'd seen before, at a time when he couldn't read them; now, however, he could, and he quickly ascertained that the name 'Khushrenada' appeared in a significant number of them, even the ones that weren't written in English.

He was honestly about to put the book away, having discovered it's purpose, when an article on the very last page caught his eye, out of place amongst the tales of international subterfuge. Heero had kept the clipping detailing the execution of Leon Czolgosz on October 29th, the 50th person to be put to death in the electric chair by the state of New York. Duo stared. _He must realize that he was this close to being in that electric chair himself...if he had pulled the trigger...and if he'd been caught...he'd be dead now._

A cold feeling gripped Duo, soon overcome by a much warmer one, the knowledge that it had been him of all people, a poor street rat with no future, who had plucked Heero from the jaws of death, and that they had found a peculiar new life in each other as a result of it. It felt strange, taking joy from an event so horrible as the President's death_...but look where we are now. Best friends...and aiming to stay that way, if I can get certain other parts of my brain under control. The last thing I want is to ruin our friendship by trying to squeeze too much out of it._ Duo smiled and put the scrapbook back where he found it. He folded his gi and obi as neatly as he could, and carried them back downstairs to his teacher, feeling better and better with each step.

**********  
  


Overall, Quatre's day was going fairly well. There was little stress, even less noise, and he had more time to work on the conservatory since he wouldn't be eating until sunset. As he had grown up in the lap of luxury back home, the ritual fasting his family engaged in towards the end of the year only meant that he did without food, but now that he had a real occupation, something useful to do with his eyes and hands, he saw clearly how much of the average work day was frittered away on food and sleep.

He was exceptionally productive, trimming dead twigs off various indoor plants, right up until Hilde and Trowa came in to find him. Hilde was carrying a plain white envelope, and both wore expressions of concern. Quatre sensed their troubled spirits and rose from his work. "What is it?" he asked.

Hilde held out the envelope. "This just arrived for you. The doorbell rang, and there was a little boy on the front step. He said someone paid him five shillings to take this up to our front door."

Quatre's eyed widened as he took the object from her. Five shillings was a lot of money for a small boy; only a very wealthy person could afford such an extraordinary delivery charge...someone with the money to travel great distances, for example. "Who paid him? Was it a man or a woman?"

"I asked him, but he didn't know," she said with an apologetic shrug. "He said the person was all bundled up in black fabric, so he couldn't tell."

They all looked at the envelope, and finally Quatre tore it open anxiously. _No sense in delaying the inevitable._ He pulled out a single sheet covered in the same scribblings Trowa had seen twice before, which pretty much confirmed his fears. "It's from Shareefa," Quatre stated. "She's in town and wants to see me, tonight. She says she's desperately trying to get away from the rest of the family, and could I please help her hide until the fighting slows down..."

Trowa resisted the urge to snatch the letter and have a look at it himself. "Where does she want to meet?"

"She gives an address, but I don't know where it is," Quatre said. "We'll have to ask Doris or Bethany."

"You're not seriously going to _go_, are you?" Hilde exclaimed. "What if it's a trap? After what happened in the pub, how can you trust _any_ of your sisters?"

"Because if Shareefa is telling the truth, and dies because I didn't help her, I'll never forgive myself!" Quatre insisted. "Besides, I'll have Trowa with me, and I'm sure we can sneak two swords out of the house. If anything goes awry, we'll subdue Shareefa peacefully and bring her back with us."

Hilde shook her head, eyes downcast. "I don't like this one bit. I'd feel better if Heero were going with you."

"Well, we're just going to have to struggle along without him," Trowa said sarcastically, "because his social schedule doesn't have room for our problems anymore. I have to drive him and Miss Relena to the opera tonight, but then we can take the carriage to wherever this mystery address is. We'll have weapons, transportation, and the element of surprise, since there's two of us, and she'll only be expecting one. We don't need Heero."

The boys exchanged a knowing glance; neither of them completely trusted Heero, and they wouldn't until he came clean about a few things, mostly having to do with Count Khushrenada. Quatre nodded. "Agreed. We're going to meet her, and we're going to be ready for anything."

**********  
  


In three days, Relena had changed her mind on what Heero should wear to the opera no less than twelve times, but what he had on at six-thirty would have to be the final variation, because they were out of time. Her Ladyship finally settled on his formal black coat with the tails, a white waistcoat and bow tie, purchased new for the occasion, and a black silk top hat from the attic, which Heero forced himself to endure in spite of a passionate dislike for all hats without exception. They were fine on other people's heads, just not his.

Relena absolutely _had_ to buy herself a fine new dress for the evening, one made up of layer upon layer of deep turquoise satin and bone-white lace. The dark colour was an unusual change for her, as she often favoured innocent-looking pastels; also, there was minimal ornamentation on the bodice of the dress, hardly any frills or ruffles, which was another dramatic departure. It was, without question, the most 'grown-up'-looking gown in her entire wardrobe.

As they prepared to leave, many of the household gathered in the front hall to bid them farewell, except for Treize and Otto, who were strongly engaged with sulking in the study. Heero hung a little bit back from the others, for there were only Dorothy and the housemaids left, and they were heartily admiring Relena's new dress, in which he had no particular interest. He stood off to the side, uncomfortably holding the alien top hat in both hands, until a playfully gruff voice punched a hold in the thick, shapeless tedium.

"You be sure to have her back by midnight, young man," Duo joked.

"Hn." The butler-turned-escort tugged at the white tie that was slowly choking him. "I'm sorry you couldn't come along, but I have something for you to do while I'm gone." Duo's eyes brightened as he prepared to receive his instructions. "I want you to contact Dr. Poole and ask for her help regarding..." Heero let his voice trail away to nothing; they both knew what he meant, and Relena was only a few feet away. Standing there yakking about her father's death would be, at the very least, rude.

Duo nodded. "No problem, you just go on, enjoy your evening, and I'll have a nice quiet time on the phone, talking to Sally and waiting for my ribs to knit back together." He cradled his torso with a comedic wince, followed by a smile that said he was just fine after their first sparring practice.

Heero nodded back faintly, but their time was cut short as Relena called out to him. "Time to go!" He grudgingly put on his top hat and joined her at the door, just in time for the pack of giggling girls to herd them outside and into the carriage. Trowa was up top in his best coachman's uniform, but in the growing darkness, nobody could see the small black bundle huddled next to him. Even Heero missed it.

The elegant pair boarded the carriage, and a snap of the reins later, they were on their way. The housemaids stood out on the step and waved until they were gone, then went inside, leaving Duo and Dorothy gazing after. Remembering that he had a job to do, Duo didn't stay long.

For only a minute or two, Dorothy was alone in front of the massive brick mansion, enjoying the crisp night air, until a shuffling noise drew her eyes right; walking along the same path as Relena's carriage was a tall, heavyset, broad-shouldered hulk of a man, wearing drab clothes intended to help him blend into the lower-class crowd. His face was barely distinguishable from that of an angry bulldog, and he hadn't shaved in a day or two; Dorothy wrinkled her nose in distaste and fled for the safety of the manor.

What Dorothy had no way of knowing was that the man had been lurking just past the hedge for the last hour or more, and had seen the black bundle crawl into the driver's bench alongside Trowa. She also couldn't have known that he was no ordinary street thug, but one of Lady Une's 'specialists', a day early and already hard at work following his target.

**********  
  


Duo knew instinctively that he was going to do a great job for Heero. He could feel it in his bones--underneath the bruises--and the thought of impressing him twice in one day gave him a seriously pleasant buzz. As soon as he knew the other members of the household were too far away to hear him, he went to the telephone in the hall, sitting on it's Chippendale table...and looked at it.

_I have to call Sally._ He looked at the phone some more, studied the earpiece and the tall speaker stand, then stared blankly at the ensemble, waiting for divine inspiration. _I still have to call Sally._ The terrifying thought occurred to him that he had absolutely no concept of how to _use_ the telephone. That particular technology was a privilege of the privileged, and he'd never even laid eyes on one before coming to Bridlewood.

He took a deep breath and slackened his shoulders, picking up the device. _No, I can do this. Seen people work this thing dozens of time. Nothing to it._ He raised the earpiece to his ear, and while he was wondering what his next action should be, he had an unexpected breakthrough.

"What number, please?" a tinny English woman's voice crackled through the wire.

Duo froze. He didn't know what number he wanted. He just wanted Sally. He didn't even know where the leaflet was that she had given them. It could've been anywhere in the house by then. The boy's mouth moved slightly, but no sound emerged.

"Hello? What number, please?"

The chef shook himself out of the trance and blubbered. "I...I'm sorry, I changed my mind." He slapped the phone down with a sharp clunk. _Great. Now what?_ Thinking over his position, he realized that there were no meals left to be prepared that day, so it wasn't likely anyone would miss him if he slipped out for awhile, especially with Relena gone. _I'll have to go talk to her in person,_ he thought, and with that, he went downstairs to fetch his coat.

**********  
  


Relena's carriage pulled gently through Covent Garden to the Royal Opera House, where a long line of fabulous vehicles were dropping off London's elite to enjoy the show. As they passed by the poorer section of the neighbourhood, where the fruit and vegetable market stood, Heero couldn't help remembering Duo's words upon taking in the lavishness of Bridlewood on his first night there: _'It beats a packing case in Covent Garden.'_ At that moment, he wondered how many more Duos and Hildes were watching their carriage roll by from the shadows, and how many of them would get the same lucky breaks in life.

Trowa let the pair off right at the front entrance to the grand, ornately pillared building, then drove away so the next carriages in line could let their passengers disembark. Because of their youth, Heero and Relena drew many stares, but they were peppered with whispers of 'Peacecraft' and 'Bridlewood', and the crowd parted to let them past. Relena hung onto Heero's arm in a very ladylike fashion, all through the lobby and up the gilded staircase to their private box. Reminiscing again, Heero noted how much it was like the box at the Temple of Music in Buffalo, then quickly quashed the thought; he had no desire to remember that day, not now, not ever again.

"Oh, isn't it beautiful?" Relena cooed as she admired the red velvet bench. She specifically requested the bench rather than separate seats, and was pleased that her request, as well as her money, had been honoured. "I could sit up here all day and all night and not get tired of that view!"

They sat down, and Heero had a look at the 'view' for himself; they had an excellent view of the stage, and a reasonable view of the throng of aristocrats below, taking their seats and thumbing through the evening programme. It was a full house for that evening's performance of Beethoven's _Fidelio_, an opera set in Spain, yet sung in German. Once they were settled with the door behind them shut and locked, Relena leaned close to her companion and made another important request. "I'm sorry to say, I don't speak a word of German, so I'd like you to tell me what's going on in the story, alright?"

Heero tried not to look surprised out of politeness. "Yes, m'lady."

"You don't have to translate every word, just give me the gist of it. Only you'll have to whisper quite close to my ear, because we mustn't disturb anyone." She smiled and scooted a little closer to him, to make his job easier. "And do I have to remind you again to call me Relena while we're out on social occasions?"

Heero couldn't fathom exactly who he might be bothering forty feet up in the box, but he knew that once she was in one of her authoritative moods, there was no questioning her judgement. He was perfectly able to translate, and translate he would, if that was what she required of him. "My apologies, Relena."

"Not at all."

They engaged in the usual light conversation until the house lights were lowered, and the overture was begun. It was one marvellous piece of music after another throughout the introduction and the first act; the singers and the orchestral players were at the top of their field. The opening scene was a Spanish prison, so the sets and costumes weren't the most glamourous to be seen, but they were real, and very convincing. As the story progressed, Heero dutifully leaned over to Relena and whispered key points about the plot.

"The jailer's assistant is actually the prisoner's wife, in disguise. She is a noblewoman of Seville. Her husband has been jailed for political reasons, and is close to death. She's come here in secret to find him before his execution."

Relena gasped dramatically and clutched the front of her gown above her heart. "Oh! It must be truly wonderful to love someone that much...to be willing to risk your safety for theirs. That's what real love is about, isn't it? Protecting each other from danger? I admire this woman, more than you can possibly know..."

Heero thought there was something a trifle odd about the what she said, as well as how she said it. A simple comment on the story or the music would be understandable, but a dissertation on what love meant to her, however short, was not what he expected. Relena was rivetted to every sound and movement coming from the character of Leonore, who was disguised as Fidelio, the errand boy of the prison, and hung on Heero's words as he talked her through the rest of the act.

"Who's that?"

"Pizarro, the governor of the prison. Leonore has brought a message that the minister of state is coming to inspect the facility, so he's decided to kill her husband ahead of schedule."

Relena dabbed at her misty eyes with her lace handkerchief. "Oh no, how awful..." The girl was getting wrapped up in the story, almost too wrapped up to remember why she had arranged this evening alone with Heero, in front of that particular opera, but the brave Leonore's aria nearly sent her over the edge. "What's she saying?"

"She's praying for hope, and the strength to save her husband from the governor's wrath."

Enraptured by the prima donna's lilting song, Relena clung to Heero's arm, and stayed there for the entire rest of the first act. "It's so wonderful that she believes so strongly in her love. It's so much more than most people have in life...sometimes it's all there is to live for. I'm sure that's how she feels right now..." Heero tried not to move, and in fact, wasn't sure if he should do anything at all. This Relena was similar to the one he was used to, and yet somehow different; in the past, she had talked his ear off about tea parties, fancy hats, the latest designer gowns, and the weather in the English Channel, but never so deeply about love. It was unsettling.

**********  
  


About a block and a half from the opera house, Trowa gave Quatre a nudge to let him know it was safe to unfurl himself from the black cloak he was hiding under. Just as they had hoped, neither Heero nor Relena had any idea that he was riding along with them, which gave them a clear, easy feeling about absconding with her carriage for an hour or so. They rode through the sparsely-driven streets, illuminated on either side by gaslights on lampposts, following the directions Bethany had given them to the address in Shareefa's letter. Only the horses knew that, somewhere between the manor and the opera house, they had picked up some extra weight that was secretly riding on the back rail.

They stopped the carriage at a convenient spot by the side of the road, in a commercial area with shops on either side of the street, then jumped down to the ground. Trowa took a long, thin bundle out from where his feet had rested and unwrapped it, revealing two gleaming rapiers taken from their display case at the manor. They each took one and fastened it to a leather strap on their belt; Trowa hand-made them specifically for that purpose, a skill he learned living with the pirates. "Now...which way?"

Quatre looked at the directions more closely, then started examining shop numbers. The address Shareefa gave them was a few doors down from the carriage, an antique store featuring various Napoleonic artifacts in the front window. Upon closer inspection, a small sign said 'Back Door', and indeed, the front door was soundly locked. "I guess we'll have to try the back," Quatre admitted.

They walked several steps in either direction, but the antique shop had another shop bordering it on each side, with no room in between. It was a solid row of eight or nine shops in all, and the only way around the back was a poorly lit alleyway.

"Naturally," Trowa said snidely. "She wouldn't have us visit her anyplace where there might be witnesses."

"Don't be so cynical," Quatre admonished him gently. "Let's not make judgements about why she's here until we actually find her." As the two boys crept around to the alley's entrance, the extra weight on the back of the carriage jumped off, surprisingly silent for the vast amount of weight it represented, and followed them at a distance. Once or twice, Quatre thought he felt a presence on their heels, but convinced himself that it was his over-active imagination playing tricks on him in a time of moderate stress.

As they stepped into the alley, Quatre pulled the hood of the black cloak over his head, according to their plan, so that only Trowa's face was visible. He latched onto Trowa's arm after buttoning the cloak the rest of the way down, so as to conceal his true figure as much as possible. The casual observer would think they were a young couple on a moonlight stroll.

When they were too far into the alley to turn back easily, a slight figure in dark clothes emerged from around the corner, also wearing a black hood. The three approached each other cautiously, and the lone figure stopped after a few steps. "What business have you here?" a woman's voice asked. It was a low, sweet voice, with a slight accent.

Quatre broke away from his bodyguard and whipped off his hood, face shining with hope. "Shareefa?"

The opposing hood was also lowered, although much more slowly, revealing a pretty, dark-haired woman with sea green eyes. "Greetings, my brother," she sang softly. Shareefa eyed Trowa suspiciously for a bit, then smiled at Quatre. "I didn't expect you to bring a friend. Isn't there someplace where we can talk...privately?"

When he was halfway to where Shareefa was standing, Quatre paused and studied her, using his sixth sense against one of his own just as he had sworn not to. His face fell and he suddenly dashed back behind Trowa, who stepped forward menacingly and put a hand on the hilt of his sword. Shareefa seemed to understand, and her expression turn from sweet to acrid in a heartbeat; one hand disappeared under her dark cloak, and emerged with a sword of her own, a scimitar with a jewelled handle, confirming that she hadn't come thousands of miles just for a friendly chat. She lunged at Trowa, and the battle began.

The two squared off and took carefully measured swings at each other, though Trowa's were much more surgical owing to Quatre's insistence that he not harm Shareefa unless one of their lives was in immediate danger. While the two swords clashed over and over, Quatre centred himself behind his champion and tried desperately to talk her out of it. "Shareefa, you don't have to do this! Father's will means nothing! It was Hassan who put him up to the tontine, any court will see that once we pull the family back together and confront this like adults!"

"I will not return without your blood on this sword!" she hollered. "Do you know what will happen to me if I don't prevail with the tontine and claim the fortune? I'm to be sold like so much cattle into an arranged marriage! I won't have it!" Her slashing movements became more pronounced, but Trowa kept up with her nicely; he had youth and experience on his side.

"Then come back with us!" Quatre shouted. "We can hide you, and anyone else who doesn't want a part of this! I don't care how much money is at stake, it's not worth destroying our family!" He promised himself he wouldn't cry, but he was cutting it awfully close. The situation was much more intense than he had anticipated, so much so that he was too focused on Trowa and Shareefa to notice a fourth person skulking into the alley and moving slowly towards them.

"He's right," Trowa said breathlessly between blocks, "there's plenty of room in our house for any of you who want to live there _peacefully_."

Shareefa paused and stood back to catch her breath, glaring at Trowa. "You don't know what you're talking about, infidel!" she spat. "Now, step aside, or make your peace with God." She called out over her shoulder, some fast, liquid words that Trowa didn't understand, and Quatre was immediately tugging on his arm. In the blink of an eye, three much larger figures in black came out from the depths of the alley, all with swords drawn. Reluctantly, Quatre found his own weapon, buried clumsily in the folds of his cloak, and stood beside his friend, altogether thinking that this wasn't such a bright idea after all.

All four lunged at Quatre, and both boys found themselves hacking away at anything that moved, but making vary little progress. Shareefa had hired professionals as backup, and they gained the advantage within seconds. Trowa and Quatre were backed up against the wall, and the three swordsmen opened a gap in their battle front to allow Shareefa a clear shot at her brother. She raised her scimitar to deliver the death blow, but out of nowhere, before she could strike, came a swift, clunky arm that knocked aside one of her flanking men and caught her by the elbow. Shareefa gasped audibly as the meaty hand twisted her arm around, and suddenly her trio of guards turned on the newcomer.

The boys were aghast and shrank away as the strange figure became clear; it was a massive brick wall of a man whom they had never seen before, and they might not have liked knowing that they gave him a lift in their carriage without realizing it. He immediately started thrashing around, throwing punches and kicks at the four pipsqueaks with butter knives, and the alley became a much more dangerous place to be. Suddenly enraged that a stranger should be threatening his blood relative, Quatre leapt on the man and tried to drag him away from his sister, but just ended up being dragged away himself by Trowa, who saw that it was a lost cause. That one man had the strength of at least three.

"Traitor!" Shareefa cried as the menacing hulk closed in on her. "What is this? What treachery have you done to me!? I have no brother!!" Since the man was only fighting her and her men while leaving the boys alone, she naturally assumed that Quatre hired him.

"Shareefa, no! I didn't!!" Quatre cried. He ran forward, trying to rejoin the battle, but Trowa held him back. The boys began fighting each other, in a way, Quatre struggling to free himself from his bodyguard's grip, and Trowa fulfilling his first duty, which was to his friend's safety and nothing else.

The mystery man knocked down one of the swordsmen and took his weapon, then advanced on the woman in black, expertly deflecting the swords of the two guards remaining. Soon, it was just him and Shareefa, and Trowa dragged his charge, still on his feet and kicking wildly, away from the scene with all his strength. There was no way of knowing what the man's motives were, or if he might turn on them once he was finished with the foreigners. As he forcibly wrestled Quatre out of the alley, they heard the clashing of metal, several thumps, and a bone-chilling scream that tore the boy's heart in two.

Quatre leaned forward as far as he could in Trowa's iron grip and screamed at the dead-silent alley. "_Shareefa!!_"

There was no reply. The battle was finished. Quatre collapsed in agony, clutching the front of his shirt and whimpering as he felt his sister's lifeforce vacate the spot it had occupied in his consciousness, the place where he kept his sixth sense. He wished to heaven that the gift would be stripped from him, if only to end his suffering.

"Get up!" Trowa whispered shakily. "We have to get out of here!" He nudged Quatre, but the boy was unresponsive and unmoving, except for the pitiful sobs stabbing his lungs. Finally, he picked Quatre up and ran, stumbling less than gracefully to the carriage with the slim gardener draped over his shoulders. He couldn't leave him alone in the passenger section, so he piled the shaking lad back into the driver's bench and cracked the reins, taking off like a golden bullet into the night.

**********  
  


Relena didn't want to leave the private box during the intermission, and insisted that Heero not leave either unless he absolutely had to, the end result being that they were right where they were supposed to be when the second act started. Florestan, Leonore's imprisoned husband, had a dream in which Leonore rescued him from his terrible fate, then awoke to find himself alone again. Leonore found herself helping the jailer to dig her husband's grave, but at the last moment, when the governor dashed forward to finish Florestan off with a dagger, Leonore drew a gun and threatened to shoot the man, at her own peril, in order to save her beloved.

All the while during the torrent of song and the quiet whispers in English, Relena was inching closer and closer to Heero, using the excuse that the music was overwhelming the softness of his voice, and she couldn't hear him. The trumpets blared, heralding the arrival of the minister of state to the prison, and at that moment, Relena took her eyes off the stage, latched onto Heero's eyes, and refused to let go.

"I didn't choose this opera by accident, Heero," she admitted without any hint of guilt. "I wanted you to know that this is how I think...that this is what I believe the bond between a man and a woman should be, one of selfless love and total sacrifice. Do you understand?" Without waiting for him to answer, she leaned in closer, putting a hand on his shoulder and angling her face beneath his. "She vowed to protect him, just as you've promised to protect me, but there's still so much room to grow from there. It doesn't have to be the limit. It doesn't have to be mistress and servant between us, not forever."

Heero squirmed slightly, then a little bit more, then located her other hand, the one he had foolishly lost track of--it had somehow found it's way to his knee. He swallowed, a total reflex action. "Miss Relena..."

"I wanted you to know that I'm very much like Leonore, even though I don't often act like it. When I have something worth protecting, I fight for it, and I just wanted you to know that if you've ever been holding back from me on purpose because you thought I was too immature to understand you, I'm not like that." Her eyes were intense, and her unusually forceful posture indicated that she wasn't budging until her point was made, or until her demands had been satisfied, whichever occurred first. "Tell me...what does 'Fidelio' mean?" She already knew the answer, just like she knew the entire plot of the opera before she even set foot in her carriage.

"It means 'faithful love', m'lady," Heero answered.

"Faithful love," the girl repeated. "It made their marriage stronger than jail, stronger than death...and that's exactly what I'm going to bring into my marriage someday. It's what father would have wanted, to see me well looked-after, and never to be alone. You do understand me, don't you?"

_No._ "Yes."

"Good." She delicately removed her hands from his person, and Heero exhaled. Who _was_ this strong young woman sitting beside him? It certainly wasn't the same girl who hired him on the basis of warm words and smooth tea, and who would bend to his every will when just the right kind of pressure was applied. Now he was the one in the box, being manipulated to suit the will of another, but to exactly what end, Heero couldn't tell. All he was certain of was that the opera was mercifully coming to a close; Leonore had saved her beloved Florestan, and all the prisoners were freed, which meant Heero would soon be freed, albeit only for a little while. The joyous music filled the house with a devastating volume, and Relena latched onto his arm and sighed at the beauty of it all; she would stay at his side until they were home again, and would not be dissuaded.

**********  
  


Duo spent a little extra time at Sally's, more than he'd expected, but he needed an adult to talk to, one who wasn't living in the same house with him. First, he completed his task for Heero by giving her all the gory details about their visit to the sanitarium, including what little they knew about Lord Peacecraft's death and the pills he may have been taking at the time. She promised to look into the matter, after which Duo had a lot of other things to discuss with her, on a semi-professional level, mostly about Heero. If he'd had a mother to talk to, or Helen, they would have been the first to know if he was confused about life in general, but in lieu of either one of them, Sally did just fine.

He left her office a little wiser and a little more confident, and carried her promise with him to show Heero that he'd done a good job. It was much later than he realized when he walked out into the street, and there were a lot fewer cabs milling about now that he had money with which to hire them; the irony was painful, but walking home would be worse. He opted to scan a few corners for signs of life, and if there was no alternative, he still had the key to Heero's room at the Muddy Nag, and felt sure he could walk at least that far.

Wandering down this street and that took him in the direction he hoped would lead him to shelter, and every now and then he walked down a side street to a different main road to see if he could spot a cab. At the corner of one road in particular, he stopped...and listened. There was a distant sound of hoofbeats on cobblestones, faster than normal, and they were getting louder very, very fast. By the time he saw the source of the clattering, banging, neighing sound, it was too late. A posh-looking carriage careened through the intersection at breakneck speed, driven by...

_...Trowa?_

It certainly didn't resemble Trowa's clean driving record, as the carriage almost crashed into a store front, and would have, had the horses not reared up in protest. People all up and down the street shouted down from their second-story windows to keep the bloody noise down, then disappeared back into their bedchambers. The carriage was stopped, a good fifty yards away, and Duo sprinted up to it to see what was the matter.

"What's going on!? What's the big--oh geez..." Duo saw what the matter was. Seated up on the bench next to Trowa was a shattered mess that used to be a pale blond gardener. Trowa had his arms around Quatre who was shaking and sobbing, and looked very much like he was about to be sick all over the velvet cushions. "What happened?"

Trowa didn't turn his head away from his quivering patient, but recognized the chef's voice. "We were meeting one of his sisters...some street thug joined in...it got out of hand..."

In between his sobs and rocking back and forth on the bench, Quatre choked out his confession. "Shareefa....killed her......all my fault!"

Trowa looked helplessly at Duo. "We had to get away before someone called the police, or before that thug came after us next...I can't drive properly with him in this condition, and I was supposed to be back at the opera house ten minutes ago! We can't show up like this, or Relena will know something's not right!"

"I c-can't ride in this thing anymore," Quatre whimpered, "I feel too sick."

"Let me have him," Duo said quickly, holding his hands up to help the boy down off the carriage. "You go get Heero and Relena, I'll take care of him."

Trowa shook his head. "He just wants to go home!"

"I'll _get_ him home! Quit panicking!"

"...please...stop," Quatre said, fumbling towards the edge of the bench. "I'll go with Duo, I just...can't stay in this thing."

Trowa reluctantly handed his friend over to Duo's less than expert care, with a multitude of promises that the chef would get Quatre home in in fewer pieces than he appeared to be at that moment. The carriage pulled away, much more steadily this time, and disappeared down the road to collect the lucky ones from the theater. 

"You okay, buddy?" Duo asked.

The gardener moaned faintly. Duo hooked Quatre's arm over his shoulders, checked the street signs against his mental map of London, and decided the best place for now would be the Muddy Nag for a warm fire and a soothing environment. If the worst happened, and Quatre was still too sick to make it back to Bridlewood, at least there was a place for him to crash for the night.

"Yeah, I know, one hell of a night. That's okay. If I'd seen what you just saw, I wouldn't feel like talking either. Don't worry, pal, I'll look after ya." The two battered warriors padded slowly down the cobbled street, looking for a little shelter from the madness of the world, and Duo felt surprisingly relaxed. It felt like the toughest part of the night was over for everyone, and whatever else happened until dawn was just frosting.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Thirty: As most of the house joyously prepares for the Christmas season, Duo reminisces about the closest thing to a loving parent he ever had, and Relena looks for ways to make her first Christmas as an orphan a little more bearable. Sally has key information after a week of subtle inquiries, but in order to re-gain the trust of those around him, Heero can't keep it to himself._

There's a lot going on in this episode, I'm surprised I crammed it all in! =@_@= Hope you're all getting your Christmas shopping done, but if you need a breather, mark down Dececmber 16th on your calendars for Episode 30! =^_^= Ja ne!


	30. Open Arms, Revolving Doors

**A.N. December 16th, 3:05pm:** There seems to be a problem with Dreamwater (might not be a problem for anyone else, but _I_ can't get in, so it's a problem =P) so this episode is currently on FFN only, and will hopefully be added to my website as soon as possible. One other thing I gotta say: Do **NOT** do what Duo says he did a long time ago. (You'll see what it is when Heero points out how unsafe it was.) It's alright for fictional characters, but not for you, o-tay? =^_~= There's a slight angst warning, too. And be sure to read my **Christmas Challenge** at the end of this episode!

**Disclaimer:** I wrote a letter to Santa Claus and asked for a set of five Gundam pilots for Christmas. He wrote back sending me a 200-page "booklet" on copyright laws and infringement suits, and said there was nothing he could do about it and how would I like a nice Gamecube instead? I'm currently thinking it over...

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Thirty: Open Arms, Revolving Doors

_"Horresco referens." ~Latin ("I shudder as I tell the story.")_

December 16th, 1901

While on a mission to make a pot of tea, Heero heard voices coming from the kitchen before he reached the bottom of the stairs, and emerged into the thick of a tense conversation between Duo and Doris. The chef was sitting at the kitchen table in front of his box of recipe cards, all hand-written, and Doris was standing over him. He looked more upset than she did.

"I tried so hard at this job, I really did!" Duo whined. "Now because I didn't do a little extra research, I've ruined everybody's Christmas."

"Now, don't be that way, you haven't ruined anything," Doris said in a motherly tone, patting the boy's back. "We'll just buy one from the corner shop. I don't fancy anyone will be able to tell the difference, not if you do a good job with dinner."

Heero only came downstairs to put the kettle on, so it really wasn't any of his business...but still...that forlorn look on Duo's face... "Do I want to know?"

"The plum pudding for after Christmas dinner," Duo mumbled. "I was supposed to start soaking the ingredients on the Sunday before Advent, and that was weeks ago."

Doris stood behind the boy with both hands on his shoulders and smiled at Heero. "He also wasn't aware that there _are_ no plums in plum pudding."

Duo shrugged. "I _thought_ it was strange...nobody sells plums in December, did you know that?"

"...right." Heero resumed his course to the stove with a slight shake of his head, filling up the kettle with fresh water while the odd conversation continued behind him.

"You mustn't feel badly about it, dear," Doris cooed, "I know that you're not exactly an expert in English cuisine. Her Ladyship and Master Treize might not have noticed, but the rest of us know that you're not really a chef by profession."

Terror washed over Duo as he wondered if the facts about his past that had been revealed at the trial were coming back to bite him. "Whaddaya mean!?" he exclaimed, twisting around to look at her. "I haven't done anything heinously wrong in this kitchen, like chocolate-covered broccoli or cheese and kumquat soufflé, have I? I never broke any culinary laws like storing the powdered sugar next to the rat poison, did I?"

"No, no, no, nothing like that," Doris insisted gently, "but face some facts, my boy, a great deal of the dishes you prepare are American. The last chef we had was an expert in pork pies and digestive biscuits. _You_ seem to be an expert in cornbread and cherry pie...not that I'm one to complain, mind you, because everything you make is simply spectacular."

"I know plenty of English recipes!" Duo blurted out bluntly, as if defending his very honour. "Personally trained by a lovely Irish lady with the best kitchen in the world! You said yourself that the manor had never seen shepherd's pie that was as good as mine!"

As Heero turned around after lighting the gas under the kettle, he saw Doris shake her head and cluck her tongue as she reached for Duo's cherished recipe box. She picked out a card at random, read it, and held it up for him to see. "Boston Cream Pie?"

Duo sat back in his chair defensively. "Okay, _one_ recipe out of the whole box..."

She picked out another card. "New England Clam Chowder?"

"....just what are you inferring, that I'm over-enthusiastic about my heritage?" He folded his arms sternly.

"Philadelphia Cheesecake?"

"........well, _that_...."

"Waldorf Salad?"

"You can stop now."

Heero smiled a bit as he sat down opposite them, remembering how he and Duo collected that last recipe, in person, from the salad's creator himself, after the fiasco in Buffalo that September. Duo was even more excited about that than the fact that their rooms as the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel had a little engraved pocket door in between them. The wide-eyed joy with which Duo greeted all of life's little novelties was one of his most charming attributes.

"I'm not saying there's anything wrong with a little variety," Doris went on to say, "but it might help solidify your position here if you were to add some more traditional items to your repertoire. Why, I don't even see rice pudding in this box of yours." The glum look returned to Duo's heart-shaped face, and the kindly housemaid patted his back again. "Don't bother yourself with it now, carry on as normal. I'm sure whatever you have planned for Christmas will be divine." With that, she went back into the scullery to finish her morning chores.

Duo sulked and picked away at his fingernails, mumbling. "I can only do what I watched Helen do in _her_ kitchen...I can't know how to cook _everything_..."

"She didn't mean it as a criticism," Heero pointed out.

"I know, but Helen wouldn't have..." Duo stopped himself and started fiddling with his braid in an agitated state. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be harping on it. Just ignore me."

The kettle on the stove reached a steady boil and began whistling, and Heero rose to answer it's call. With their backs to each other, Duo let his braid fall and stared at his messily-written notecards. At that moment, he wished more than anything that he could show his lost guardian that he was safe and well at last, to stop her worrying, even from above. A thought struck him, perhaps subconsciously constructed out of a need to remember. "Why don't you ever ask about her?"

"Hn?"

"About Helen," Duo repeated. "I let her name slip often enough, but you've never asked me who she was or what she meant to me. Aren't you interested?"

Heero looked up, but continued assembling the tea set on a tray, the fresh, piping hot brew steeping in its delicate porcelain jug. "I'm interested," he said in a flat voice, "but what's yours is yours. The time at which you feel ready to share something like that is for you to decide, not me." When he walked back out in front of the kitchen table, Duo was smiling, but the chef's face fell when he saw the tea set, undoubtedly on its way up to Relena.

"You're busy," Duo groaned.

The butler looked down at the tray, mentally estimated how many minuted had passed since it was requested, and sat down with it, deciding he could spare some time for his friend. "Tell me."

Energized, the braided boy sat up straight in his chair and launched himself down memory lane. "You know after my parents went missing, how I got shipped off to the American embassy, right? Well, they couldn't legally keep me for long, and the police didn't want me, so they had to send me to an orphanage, the one I stole food for later on. Lots of people came in wanting to adopt children, but nobody ever wanted me because I was American. It wasn't that they didn't _like_ me or anything, far from it, they just didn't want any immigration hassles down the line.

"I was pretty much stuck in there until I was eight or so, then I decided to blow that joint. They treated me okay, but older kids have an even tougher time getting adopted, so it was clear to me that I was gonna have to get _myself_ out of there. Big mistake, at first. I didn't have anywhere to go, and I couldn't pick pockets worth beans. Didn't matter, though, 'cause I was determined not to go hungry.

"I remember I was lurking around the High Street, and I saw this lady with long blonde hair and a purple dress...she had a bagful of groceries and stuff sitting on the ground, with the brightest red apples you ever did see, right on top. She was putting a pin in her hat, looking at her reflection in some store window, and she wasn't paying attention..."

Heero actually leaned forward without thinking, not even realizing how wrapped up he was in the story, as Duo began adding broad arm gestures to illustrate his tale. The untouched tea continued to steep a full two floors below where it was supposed to be.

"I crept up behind her, one foot in front of the other, as quietly as I could...and in the space of half a second, I grabbed an apple and ran! I didn't know where I was going, I just picked a direction and burned off what little rubber was left on my shoes...and then I slammed into something tall, blue, and _really_ strong."

"A policeman?" Heero guessed.

"Yep," Duo confirmed, nodding with a smile. "I didn't even hear the lady yell for someone to stop me, and then all of a sudden this big guy in uniform is marching me back to the store window, but when we got there, the weirdest thing happened. The lady takes one look at me and says, in this _gorgeous_ Irish brogue, 'Did I not tell ya to stay where I could see ya? And what blessed pigswill have ye been playin' in to get yerself in such a state? Yer mum's gonna have ten thousand fits when I take you home, young man!'"

Heero was leaning his chin in the palm of his hand by now, thoroughly engrossed; Duo's expert re-enactment of the blonde woman's accent was definitely the clincher. "So you weren't arrested?"

"Nope, she totally snowed him into thinking she was my governess or something," Duo said proudly. "That was Helen. She said that as long as she saved my rear end from the authorities, I might as well carry her shopping for her. Turns out she was finishing off a holiday in London, and she was buying some souvenirs to take back to Ireland, and some snacks to eat on the ferry. She asked me if I'd like to come with her, to live somewhere new with all the food I could eat...and I said yes. She even let me keep the apple."

Heero didn't want to sound disapproving, since it all turned out for the best, but it slipped out anyway. "Duo, that was _very_ dangerous. If that had been someone else with less than honest intentions--"

"Yeah, yeah, it could've been a lot worse for me, I know," Duo admitted sheepishly, "but it was okay, because someone upstairs was watching over me the whole time. Those years in Ireland were the best times I ever had before coming here. Helen had a flower shop with a little apartment over it, and she took in all the strays off the street...dogs, cats...me..." He grinned momentarily, but then his cherubic face became sullen, and his bright amethyst eyes clouded over. "Then one day, a couple of years ago...Helen got really sick. She could hardly get out of bed, and I had to run and get Dr. Walsh, but as soon as he saw her, he sent me out of the room and wouldn't let me back in.

"More men came, and they were all talking at once, with these big words I'd never heard before. They filled all the cupboards with food, took me out of the house, and tacked a sign up on the door. Then Dr. Walsh gave me a message from Helen--she didn't write it down because she knew I couldn't read--that she said I had to go away and never come back, or I'd get sick too...and...that she loved me." Duo's eyes misted over, but from a lifetime's abhorrence of useless tears, he refused to cry. "She waved goodbye to me from her window, trying to look brave, and I tried to be brave for her, too. I waved back, and then I left...went back to England and began my life of crime," he finished with a humourless smirk.

Heero was respectfully silent for awhile, thinking about the sign the doctor posted on Helen's door. _Quarantine,_ he thought morbidly. "Did you ever hear from her again?"

Duo's silence held a thousand words of anguish that spared him the hurt of answering directly; apparently Dr. Walsh hadn't held out much hope for her survival at the time of her diagnosis, whatever she had fatefully contracted. The pitiful story brought about strange stirrings in Heero, feelings of sadness and protectiveness that he never knew he was capable of. His friend had been abandoned far too many times in life, and it made Heero want to lavish even more attention on the boy, to make sure he finally felt secure and wanted. "Are we still on for this afternoon?" he asked casually, half trying to change the subject.

The chef brightened a bit. "Yeah! Lookin' forward to it!"

Relieved that the emotional damage Duo's narrative seemed to have done wasn't permanent, Heero nodded. It was then that he remembered the tea set; Relena was supposed to have received it several minutes ago, but it seemed like Duo needed it much more. He poured him a cup of tea and opened a fresh package of chocolate-dipped shortbread to perk him up, but Duo felt better just knowing he cared.

**********  
  


Shareefa's death after the nighttime ambush left Quatre devastated and unable to work; it was a small bit of good fortune that there was six inches of snow blanketing the estate, eliminating most of the work he might have done. His time of ritual fasting was all but over, but even during the evening hours when food and drink were permitted, he couldn't eat anything. The experience tore a massive gash through his soul that swallowed up his appetite along with every other bit of seasonal cheer that came his way.

Trowa was naturally very concerned, but allowed the boy some time to mourn before prodding him to eat something. He crept into their room around mid-morning, carrying a simple bowl of soup and crackers, and was dismayed to find his friend in the same weakened, dishevelled state as he'd been in for the past week. On top of that, he was still in bed.

"Quat? Are you awake?"

"......mmrf..."

Trowa sighed and put the soup on the bedside table, then sat down on his patient's bed as the grief-weary gardener pulled himself up into a sloppy sitting position. Worn out from head to foot without any accomplishment to show for it, he leaned heavily against Trowa and made his first effort that morning to actually open his eyes.

"Do you think you could manage a little soup today?"

Quatre forced out a tiny smile for the other's benefit. "Maybe just a bit."

Trowa smiled in return and helped him hold the soup bowl as he sampled some tentative sips, but the meal was only a few spoonfuls old when they were unexpectedly interrupted. "Hello? Is anyone in there?" A stiff rapping at the door accompanied the haughty female voice, whom they both identified unpleasantly as Dorothy. She pushed the door open without being invited, and Trowa was on his feet in a flash, setting the soup bowl on the card table and dashing to the doorway, blocking her progress.

"What do _you_ want?" the coachman snarled.

"There's no need to get all huffy," Dorothy protested, "I'm just here to deliver a message."

"Fine. Deliver it and get out."

Dorothy snorted and looked over his shoulder at Quatre's slumped back. "Lady Une would like you _both_ to visit her at her estate, at your earliest convenience."

"Why should she want to see me?" Quatre asked dully, without turning around. "I've already turned down her offer of employment."

"It's nothing to do with that, I assure you," the girl said. "She's very concerned for your health and well-being, as am I, and she just wants to make sure you're being well looked after. Both of you."

Slightly angered by her persistence, Quatre stood feebly and propped himself up on the bedside table, giving her a moderate glare. "You only want to make sure my inheritance is well looked after, don't try to deny it! I have nothing to say to either one of you. Now, please go."

Trowa folded his arms and looked down at her. "You heard the man."

Dorothy looked mildly insulted, but not all that surprised. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and eyed them both craftily. "She's not going to take 'no' for an answer very easily, I feel it's only fair to warn you. If she wants to have a word with you, she'll have it. You really don't have a choice in the matter, but don't forget that she at least _tried_ to be polite." The Baroness spun on her heel and stalked daintily away, leaving the boys to wonder about her message.

"What could she possibly want this time?" Trowa mused quietly.

"I don't know, but I don't have the energy to think about it right now," Quatre mumbled. As he turned around, preparing to flop back on his bed, he got a look at himself in the mirror, a gaunt figure with slightly sunken cheeks and a constant tremor in his arms and legs. The anger he felt for Dorothy was suddenly re-directed at himself, along with shame for allowing such rapid deterioration to occur. _Enough of this! Moping isn't going to bring Shareefa back, and it's not going to protect me against Dorothy and Lady Une either! If father could see me in this state, he'd be appalled._ "Where's the rest of that soup?"

Trowa grabbed the bowl off the card table and handed it over with a broad smile.

**********  
  


Relena had never been an impatient person. There was no need to be; all her meals arrived on time, all her servants were only a bell-ring away...at least, that was how things used to be. The morning tea she had asked Heero to bring never arrived, then she didn't see him again until lunch, and he was in such a hurry to go out for the afternoon that they hardly spoke two words to each other. The afternoon outings were getting to be a daily habit with him, and it was finally affecting his performance, as he wasn't home in time to serve tea. Now Relena was developing a taste for impatience.

Too many of her strategies to get closer to Heero had failed. She invited him to take his meals with the rest of the family at the dining room table, but he insisted on keeping to the servants' kitchenette with the dumbwaiter and cutlery cabinet for company. She offered him a private room on the third floor, conveniently located quite near hers, to compensate for the cramped conditions and total lack of central heating in his own room, but he politely declined, saying it wasn't his place.

_It's as if he feels unworthy of whatever 'honours' I wish to give him,_ she thought as she paced up and down the front hall. _Maybe he feels intimidated, socially, and doesn't feel he can measure up to my standards. What absolute nonsense! Poor boy...I'll make sure he knows that I'd never let a silly thing like class come between us._

Magically, the door opened at that very moment, and the two missing servants sauntered across the threshold in a very relaxed mood, brushing snow off their thick woolen coats. Duo was laughing and chatting with one hand dipping in and out of a bag of sweets, and Heero was actually talking back to him. A conversation! Relena felt a pang of jealousy as she heard more words pass between them in five seconds than Heero had spoken to her in two days. He also seemed to have had an arm around Duo, perhaps steadying him on the slippery front step, but it gave her an icy feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"...but seriously, how often does that happen in real life? Guy meets girl, girl meets villain, villain ties girl to railroad tracks?"

"I think it was meant to be a satirical examination of the film industry as a vehicle for social expression."

"Whatever. The chase scene was cool, though..."

They hadn't noticed Relena's presence yet, and she startled them after some startling thought invaded her mind. _You went to the pictures? With him instead of me??_ "Heero, you're late."

The boys were right in the middle of hanging up their coats, and froze at the unexpected noise, but Heero was well-prepared to take the blame. "Forgive me, m'lady, but I seem to have misplaced my watch," he said humbly, unbuttoning his jacket to reveal no watch and chain. "It was entirely my fault that we lost track of time." He deliberately omitted the karate lesson that ran long, plus the shopping spree in the candy store and the leisurely walk along the Thames while the sun was setting.

Relena appeared to ignore his excuse as she marched over to Duo and handed him a thick stack of neatly-addressed envelopes, the invitations to her Christmas party. "Run these down to the postbox, then get straight to work on dinner. It's almost five o'clock already!"

Duo groaned inaudibly and took his coat back off the coat rack. "Yes, miss." He shot an apologetic glance at Heero, took the envelopes, and left.

Once the meddlesome chef was out of the way, Relena beckoned Heero to follow her. "I'd like a word with you," she said in a low, strong voice. She led him into the parlour and stood apart from him, leaning on the piano and staring off into space. A strange chill fell over the room as she gathered her thoughts and began to speak. "I don't think you should be spending so much of your time with the cook."

Heero nearly staggered backwards. "Excuse me?"

"It's not that I disapprove, specifically," her Ladyship affirmed, "but if you have any interest in improving your social standing, it would behoove you to spend less time with the staff in general. I've given you several opportunities to mingle with London's elite, but you keep backsliding time and again, and I know you can do better. You're talented and charming, and you could go as far as you want to in life if you would just start associating yourself with the _right_ kind of people."

"M'lady...we both know that would hardly be appropriate, given my position in--"

"But don't you ever feel a need to rise _above_ that position?" she asked emphatically, whirling around to face him. "Haven't you ever dreamed of something better for yourself? Something better than serving drinks and polishing silverware?"

This Relena was even more different than the last Relena Heero had seen. Taken completely by surprise, he gave her a dumbfounded look and a slow, undeliberate shrug. "I have no reason to be discontent with my life the way it is, m'lady."

"That may well be," she said softly, walking delicately towards him, "but I have my suspicions that you're holding back from your true potential because you're a little bit intimidated by the people you have to serve."

A lesser man might have broken down in peals of hysterical laughter, but Heero stood his ground. "Indeed."

"Now, I don't want to embarass you about it, but I think you should hear this." She stepped even closer, suddenly within a carefully-measured arm's length. "I know that many people of my social stature would frown on servants aspiring to join their ranks, but our family isn't like that. Father told me himself that wealth isn't nearly as important as character, and he made sure that I learned to look very closely at a person _as_ a person, and not as a bank account, especially when choosing my friends.

"He even went so far to say that he wouldn't object if I _married_ a man belonging to a lower class, so long as he was a good man and that we loved each other honestly." She smiled. "Do you understand?"

Heero wasn't sure how to answer that. He understood the words as they floated across the strangely shortened distance between her lips and his ears, but something about her smile and tone indicated that there was more being said than mere words. Nevertheless, he wasn't getting out of there until she felt her point had been made. "Of course, m'lady."

"Good." She took the last step forward that she was able to take; any closer would have resulted into two bodies occupying the same space at the same time. Still grinning at how easily she had gotten her way, she used both ivory hands to straighten Heero's tie. "So you see, you mustn't let class be an obstacle to the things you really want out of life. Now, it's getting very late, so go set the table for dinner, alright?" She patted him on the shoulder and sent him about his work, after re-extending the invitation to eat in the dining room.

Watching him leave, Relena thought to herself how unenthusiastic Heero seemed at being liberated from the normal constraints of the working class, but she felt certain that the core meaning of her lecture would sink in eventually.

**********  
  


It was never social awareness or timidity that kept Heero from joining the upper crust of the house for any meals, just as it wasn't superiority that prevented him from eating downstairs with the staff. He always ate alone in the little prep room just off the dining room, and expected that he always would. During his training, he never had company at mealtimes; his rations were brought by one of his keepers, and as an exercise in obedience and restraint, he was not permitted to eat until the person had left, no matter how hungry he was. Dining alone felt normal to him.

After years of repetitive behaviour such as this, Relena's invitation didn't carry a great deal of weight, and by the same token, Heero didn't let it change the way he conducted himself in the dining room. He laid out the four meals with his usual efficiency and care, then retreated once again to the kitchenette, all the while feeling Relena's hopeful eyes following him, waiting in vain for her invitation to be accepted.

As always, there was a fifth tray waiting for him in the dumbwaiter; he set it on the rickety wooden table and glanced over the contents, seeing more evidence of a clever and very pleasant trend. Over the past week, Duo had consistently been giving Heero better food than the rest of the family was getting. Relena and the others had chicken soup and bread rolls that evening, but Heero had real herb-roasted chicken with oven-browned potatoes and a glass of the _good_ wine that Treize had hidden for himself in the china cabinet behind the soup toureen. It was nice...a secret sign of friendship and caring concern, probably due to the well-documented fact that two hours of karate burns more calories than a day of dusting knickknacks and pouring sherry.

The nicest surprise came at dessert, after Heero had passed out four crystal dishes of crème brulée and festive gingerbread. Lifting up the last silver dome on his tray, he found a pair of exquisitely crafted gingerbread men. One had blue eyes made out of icing and a green 'H' piped across its middle, and the other had purple eyes and a green 'D'; the 'D' cookie had three narrow strands of gingerbread woven into a braid and poking out of the side of its head. The true marvel of engineering, however, was that the two cookies had been cut, shaped, and baked as only one, joined at the arms to make it look like they were holding hands. Both cookies were smiling little pink icing smiles.

It was an invitation, without question, but with added subtlety and a lot less pressure; he couldn't help but appreciate that. He picked up the plate of gingerbread, tiptoed out so as not to alert the diners of his departure, and quietly went downstairs, where he was met with several questioning glances and one big smile from the master baker.

Heero walked around the table, with a slight smile of his own, and stopped at the extra chair next to Duo. "I got your message."

"And looky here, there just happens to be an empty spot waiting for you. What a coincidence." Duo grinned at his own ingenuity as Heero sat down and centered the plate between them. They broke the gingerbread men apart, and each boy nibbled on his respective cookie while the rest of the servants trickled out in pairs, unknowingly leaving them to enjoy a sacred comfort zone that neither one could find in anyone else.

Quatre didn't like it. "Look at those two," he whispered to his cinnamon-haired bodyguard as they peeked out from behind the pantry door. "Whatever's going on around here, they're both in on it. I can _feel_ it! What is it they don't want to tell us?" Energized by lingering suspicions and the first full meal he'd had in a week, he wasn't about to let the butler get away with one more day of lies and secrecy. Trowa hung his head; all he really wanted was for Quatre to get some rest and calm down.

Fate intervened in the form of a light tapping at the back door. They observed Heero rising from the table slowly, then moving a little faster to open the door once he recognized the strawberry blonde woman standing behind it in the snow. When all three of them began muttering in muted tones and looking shiftily over their shoulders, Quatre had seen more than enough. He slipped away from Trowa, who made a late grab for his arm and missed, and marched back out into the kitchen. Everyone looked up at once.

"We want to know what's going on in this house," the gardener declared fiercely. "You two aren't the only ones who have to live under this roof with Treize, and if there's danger here, we have a right to know what it is."

The three at the table looked past him to a rather shell-shocked Trowa, who nodded and shrugged at the same time, then looked back at Quatre in unison. "We know something's up," the blond boy continued, "and we want the facts _right_ now, or we'll.....we'll, um....we'll think of something _really_ unpleasant to make up for it, sooner or later! Won't we, Trowa?"

Trowa froze and stared. Duo smirked and ducked his head a little. Heero raised an eyebrow, and the strawberry blonde woman seemed very impressed. "Fine," Heero said after an elongated pause, "and you can donate the use of your room so we won't be overheard." With that, he swept past them all and disappeared into Trowa and Quatre's room. After exchanging blinks and greetings with the snow-covered Dr. Poole, they followed him.

Within seconds, they had each found themselves a chair in the double bedroom, except Duo, who sat cross-legged on someone's bed--he wasn't sure whose. Heero shut the door firmly, then turned to Sally. "You can tell these two everything you were about to tell myself and Duo, but be prepared for some questions."

"......okay." Sally settled comfortably in her chair, unpinning her hat and setting it on a nearby table, then looked over the four faces in front of her, displaying varying degrees of patience. "I'll start at the beginning. More than a year ago, Lord Peacecraft was visited by a French doctor taking over for Ben Pritchard, the family doctor, and was diagnosed with a cardiac arrhythmia after a ten-minute examination." Her distasteful tone on the words 'ten-minute' was a clear hint that she didn't approve of the exam's brevity.

"This 'Dr. Laval' has no office in England, and when I contacted the Parisian medical board, they were either unable or unwilling to provide me with any information about him. Without any visible credentials or even a second opinion, he prescribed digitalis, and obtained the pills from some back-water chemist who isn't even in business anymore. I tracked down an apprentice who worked at the chemist's for a few months, and with a little bit of monetary persuasion, he remembered Dr. Laval coming in just after the new year with a man named Wagner, who spoke to the chemist in German." Duo squirmed uncomfortably as he saw the pieces falling together, but Trowa and Quatre were still very much in the dark.

"This Wagner fellow was given a full bottle of digitalis pills, even though the apprentice knew they had come to collect another full bottle just two weeks previous. That amounts to several megadoses of a very powerful drug in the hands of a man who had only been employed at the manor for a few months." Sally sat back and shrugged. "Four weeks later, Lord Peacecraft was dead. Draw your own conclusions."

Trowa couldn't figure out why Duo and Heero were so calm, like they had been expecting such gruesome news. "I don't understand...why didn't the family doctor step in? And what does any of this have to do with Treize?"

"Pritchard didn't know any of it was happening," Sally said, taking an envelope out of her purse. "He came into a sudden windfall of money and took a year's leave of absence in Australia. Laval was required to send him a report of his diagnosis, but it didn't reach Pritchard in anything resembling a timely fashion. Look at this..." She handed the envelope to Trowa, who pored over the contents and passed it along, while Sally elaborated on her point. "I 'obtained' that from Pritchard's office...while his back was turned. I'm fairly sure he won't miss it. It's pretty straight-forward, just a standard account of the examination performed on Lord Peacecraft."

They all read the form letter and found nothing particularly suspicious about it, aside from sloppiness and quick work, but when the envelope and letter fell into Heero's hands, he spotted something extraordinary. "....postmarked in _Bangkok?_"

Sally nodded. "Nobody in their right mind sends a letter from England to Australia by way of Siam. Compare the envelope to the letter. The envelope is like new, but the letter looks like it's been through the war, and the postmark is dated nearly eight months _after_ the letter. I believe it was bounced all over the globe, being opened and re-wrapped in a new envelope at any number of points along the way. It made sure that Dr. Pritchard didn't get the news about his patient's heart condition until it was too late to take action, all while making it look like a simple case of misdirected mail. When he got back to England, Lord Peacecraft was already dead, and now he seems to be avoiding this house for fear of a malpractice suit...he knows he shouldn't have left the country. Just getting into his office to talk to him was like pulling teeth."

"Can't the police do anything?" Quatre asked, feeling his new-found strength fly from him.

"I doubt it," she said. "The trail's gone cold. Laval disappeared right after the funeral, and there was no coroner's inquest to determine whether his Lordship was even sick at the time of his death. I can't say for sure whether he had a heart condition or not, but I feel safe in guessing that the cause of death was digitalis poisoning."

As he handed the envelope back, Heero fielded Trowa's second question. "The man named Wagner, whom Quatre should remember as the previous butler, was secretly employed by Treize. Dr. Laval and the chemist might have been as well."

"Plus who knows how many postal workers all over the world," Duo remarked snidely.

Quatre swallowed. "All those months...he was taking pills he didn't need..."

"And Wagner was increasing his dosage bit by bit," Sally added. "I wish had better news for you, boys...but it's pretty clear what's been going on, especially if Treize is, or is about to be named, the legal caretaker of his half-brother's estate."

Heero was indeed hoping for better news, if only for Relena's sake, but there was no denying the obvious. "Lord Peacecraft was murdered."

**********  
  


The household settled down for a peaceful, wintery sleep at last, and one by one, lights were turned out and wishes of sweet dreams were exchanged throughout the manor. Down in the cellar, Trowa and Quatre were tucked into their beds and listening to the wind whip snow against the window panes, but the noise wasn't keeping them awake as much as the terrible things they had heard in that very room a few hours previous. Was Treize really a murderer? Was Relena in danger? What would he do to them all if he discovered Heero's investigation? Question after question was whispered between them, but no answers were found.

"Do you think Heero's telling us everything he knows?" Trowa asked softly.

"I think there's more," Quatre replied slowly, "but I don't think we need to know the rest. I just get the feeling that whatever else he's keeping from us really isn't any of our business. We found out what we needed to know about Treize and that's enough for now." He paused and listened to the pitter-pat on the window for awhile, then let out some of the guilt that had been burning him since that evening. "I should have known something was going to happen to his Lordship...I should have noticed something odd about Wagner. He was never really part of the family, he isolated himself, he was secretive...and I never saw it. I never got close enough to him to realize what he was there to do..."

"Please, _please_ don't blame yourself for this," Trowa begged. "It's not your fault. There was nothing you could have done.

"You don't know that. You're just trying to make me feel better."

"Is it working?"

Again Quatre paused, and this time he smiled faintly. Trowa was trying, after all; it was more than many people would have done for a sickly wretch like himself, he thought. "A little."

It did help; no problem or worry felt so large when there was someone to share it with, and they went to sleep confident that whatever strange developments arose from that evening's discovery, they could figure it out together. Several floors above them, another pair of weary workers was having a similar conversation, under much more rugged conditions. Duo and Heero were huddled close together under very insufficient blankets in the coldest room in the house, and neither one really minded the indignity of it. It was well known that people in the country often doubled up to keep warm, since few had a fireplace in the bedroom, so necessity made it alright on some level. Just like below, the questions were flying, but mostly in one direction.

"Why did you let those two in on what Sally found?" Duo asked to the darkness.

"Don't know," Heero answered sleepily with his eyes closed. "Your gingerbread must have put me in a generous mood."

"Can we trust them?"

"I expect so. They have nothing to gain by revealing what they've been told."

Heero's firm tone was enough to convince anyone that he was right, and Duo trusted his judgement implicitly. He curled up under the blankets, buried his elven nose a little further into the well-worn shoulder of Heero's green and black pajamas, and felt momentarily secure that everything would work out alright. "More lessons tomorrow?"

"Hai.

"Mmmmm.

A rare thing happened that night; all the servants fell asleep before Relena, who was sitting up in bed listening to the winter wind and wondering if Heero really understood what she was trying to tell him without actually saying the words. Long after she turned out the light, she was replaying their conversation in her head, trying to imagine how he would interpret it.

_It wouldn't hurt to drop a few more hints between now and the party, but gently. I have to help him overcome his insecurities, for my sake, for the manor's sake...and of course, for his own...but I must do it gently, or I might scare him off. Like Dorothy said, men hate to be pressured._ With a solid decision in mind, she smiled to herself and sank down below the downy pink and white lace covers of her canopy bed and drifted off to dreamland, seeing her wonderful new future as rightful Lady of Bridlewood with her one and only Heero by her side.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Thirty-One: The famous Bridlewood Christmas gala brings in a massive crowd of wealthy revellers, as it always has, and Relena asks her guests to share in the memories of her family, grimly depleted by death and war. There's music, dancing, presents and food in store, but it couldn't possibly be all smiles and sunshine. It looks like an ordinary Christmas party, but unseen forces are at work that will turn it into a gathering none of the household will ever forget._

Okay, here's a special **Christmas Challenge** for all my readers (well, those with a kitchen and a camera, at least): Remember those _darling_ little gingerbread men I described? I'd love to see just how creative and artful my readers can be (call me crazy) so this is what I'd like you to do, if you choose to accept my challenge. Bake two gingerbread men, holding hands and smiling, exactly the way they appeared in this week's episode. Send me a picture of your fabulous work, and I'll post it on my website! Can you do it? =^_~= All you aspiring bakers out there, now's your chance to shine! Email me a pic of your very best gingerbread Duo and Heero and gain the envy of your peers! ...aaaaaand the next episode couldn't come out any other time but *drumroll* Christmas Day! *crowd cheers* See you then! =^_^=

A quick word about Duo's recipe cards...the Kraft company _might_ contend that real Philly Cheesecake didn't come about until the advent of their Philly Cream Cheese around the time of the first world war. I contend that, since cheesecake is reputed to have been invented by the ancient Greeks, and since pasteurized cream cheese appeared on the scene before the turn of the century, that it's entirely possible that genuine Philadelphia Cheesecake was around much sooner than Kraft fans would have you believe. New York Cheesecake existed in the mid-1800's, as reported by a prominent American cheesecake company, so it's not totally beyond the reach of the imagination. =^_~= Coming to the Bridlewood section of my website will be a recipe index cataloguing all of Duo's tastiest dishes for you to try, so stay tuned!


	31. Comfort and Joy

Warning? What warning? *innocent look* Seriously, all there is here is a teeny bit of shounen-ai and some Shakespearean confusion. You'll see. =^_~=

**Disclaimer:** I wrote a letter to Santa Claus and asked for a set of five Gundam pilots for Christmas. He wrote back sending me a 200-page "booklet" on copyright laws and infringement suits, and said there was nothing he could do about it and how would I like a nice Gamecube instead? I'm currently thinking it over...

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Thirty-One: Comfort and Joy

_"For aught that I could ever read, could ever hear by tale or history, the course of true love never did run smooth." ~Lysander, "A Midsummer Night's Dream"_

December 25th, 1901

The bells rang out on Christmas morning, chiming out their message of joy from all corners of London, and dragging the sleepy-eyed from their dreams of making merry among thousands of twinkling lights. Every one of Bridlewood's residents wore their Sunday best to attend morning mass, and were easily the classiest-looking group in the whole cathedral. The traditional sermon of peace on Earth and goodwill toward men was well-received by the cheery crowd, and after the service full of bells, choirs and carols, they poured back out into the cold city, warming up from the inside out.

Within minutes, there was a bustling knot of people in felt hats and fur-lined coats milling around on the snow-covered front lawn of the church, nearly two hundred in all. Relena placed herself strategically in the centre of it where she could greet as many well-wishers as possible, while Treize and Otto hung back a bit, preferring to guard her from a distance.

Fidgeting out of boredom, Treize took out his wallet and checked something inside, as if suspecting one of the faithful parishioners might be capable of picking his pocket. "Still there..." he muttered to himself.

Otto noted his odd behaviour and leaned over to whisper in his ear. "What's still there?"

Treize maintained his best stone face despite his high level of aggravation. "That braided brat's settlement money. His solicitor insisted that I bring it with me this morning, so I can only assume we're driving straight to his office next."

The two men fell silent and let their eyes glaze over as the mob of merry ladies exchanged friendly kisses and holiday hugs, until a lightning bolt of brown and black parted the waves and streaked towards its tall, auburn-haired target. Treize suppressed a groan as the much-hated pest bounced up to him wearing a smug smile.

"Did you bring it?" Duo asked.

"Of course," Treize said, looking away proudly.

"Perfect! Come on!" The boy grabbed Treize by the arm and pulled him away from Otto with surprising strength. Even more surprising was the Count's lack of resistance, but he was caught entirely off-guard as Duo dragged him to a clearing populated by a handful of men in middle-class suits. They all seemed to be waiting for Duo, and there was even a camera set up on a tripod. Quite the reception.

"...what's _this_?" Treize asked defensively, shying away from the camera.

"This is an auspicious occasion, isn't it?" Duo whispered back to him. "Thought I'd invite a few interested individuals to witness you forking over that king's ransom, mostly the press." He smiled and poked Treize in the ribs. "Wouldn't want you skipping out with the money and having it splashed all over the newspapers, now would we?"

Treize snarled as the boy sauntered over to greet the pack of reporters, and just as he thought he couldn't stand any more self-important children showing him up, he caught a glimpse of Heero standing behind them all, smirking slightly. The Count seethed.

"Right, gentlemen," a thirty-ish reporter said in a pleasant but commanding voice, "we'd all like to get home before the turkey cools, so let's look lively! Mr. Maxwell, I'd like you standing over here, and Father Dobbins, if you could stand next to him...lovely!" As the first man arranged a tidy photograph with the church in the background, a second led Treize to stand next to Duo, on the opposite side from a tall, portly, bearded man with white hair, wearing a priest's collar.

Out of nowhere, Mr. Marlowe, the Peacecraft family solicitor and overseer of Duo's lawsuit, stepped forward and tried unsuccessfully to coax a smile out of Treize. "We can wrap this up in a few minutes, sir, provided you've brought the settlement money as instructed."

Keeping his eyes fixed like death rays on Duo's smiling face, Treize took out his wallet a second time and produced a cheque. Marlowe and the reporters watched carefully as he handed it over to the boy, who inspected it with the fastidious care of a well-practised accountant.

"Swiss francs, eh?" Duo said with a grin. "Interesting..." Not looking the least bit surprised, for he knew Treize had no money banked anywhere in England, Duo reached into his own pocket and took out a slip of paper with dozens of sets of numbers scribbled on it. He looked back and forth between the paper and the cheque, calculating out loud. "So, that'd be...times sixteen and a half...divided by...and carry the seven...fifty-one pounds, eight shillings. Goodness me, you overpaid!" The grin grew, after a comic gasp, and he turned to address the reporters. "But I'm sure the Count won't mind the added expense since this money is going straight to the orphans of St. Basil's."

"Quite right!" the first reporter chimed in. "You don't mind that a bit, do you, sir?" They all stared at Treize.

Fighting a burning sensation on the back of his neck, the Count shook his head. "I'd be only...._too_ happy."

The reporters scribbled in their notebooks, and the lead man began barking out directions again. "Now for this shot, I want _you_, Mr. Maxwell, shaking the hand of Father Dobbins with your right hand, and giving him the cheque with your left. We'll let the banks deal with the currencies later...Father, if you could move in a little bit...and Count, er...Kushrenda, if you could just slot yourself into the background somewhere...that's fine. Hold that pose!" Tiny snowflakes were gently falling, and sat picturesquely on everyone's head except the Count's, as he was boiling over with rage and melted all snow within an inch of his reddening face.

"Don't worry about your math," Duo whispered to him with a smirk. "I had a rough time figuring out exchange rates when I started out, too. You'll get it eventually."

"And, smile please!"

Duo and Father Dobbins smiled for the camera. Treize stormed off, and no one seemed to miss him. He skirted around the crowd, who had taken quite an interest in the photo session, and returned to the only friendly piece of territory around for miles, next to Otto. The house steward peeked at Treize from under his old top hat with a surprised face.

"Everyone's saying he's donated the money to the orphanage he grew up in," Otto said. "That's rather sporting of him, don't you think? Fifty pounds is a lot of money."

Treize stared straight ahead. "Fifty-_one_ pounds, eight shillings."

"You overpaid him? Why would you do a fool thing like that?"

".........shut up, Otto." And then he stormed off again.

**********  
  


Once the family was settled back in the house and had warmed themselves with a cup of hot cocoa, preparations began for their traditional Christmas feast. It was a practice peculiar to the Peacecraft family for many years that the entire household, staff included, would dine together in the ballroom and discuss how to decorate it for the annual gala that evening. A magnificent nine-foot tall Christmas tree had been set up and adorned in the ballroom the night before, and Relena was certain that it was the finest specimen of greenery to be found in the whole neighbourhood, but there was still much to be done.

Half of the staff were helping Duo set up a long table and chairs, glassware, silverware and plates for the midday meal, while the other half were bringing down boxes of decorations from the attic, and of course, the family themselves were lounging in the parlour, so at first, nobody answered the unexpected doorbell. It rang three or four times before Bethany happened to notice as she was racing around with boxes of garlands, and she made a detour to answer it. Standing on the front step and looking very anxious was a young man in a forest green frock coat and tan trousers, with a lustrous lion's mane of tawny brown hair, a small, wrapped box in one hand, and his green top hat in the other.

"How d'you do?" he greeted her in a posh but relaxed voice. "I've come to make my apologies to her Ladyship, but my uncle's sudden illness prevents me from attending her party this evening." The lad's eyes were a shining, multi-hued hazel that betrayed disappointment and worry despite his cordial half-smile.

"Yes, sir," Bethany said, "shall I fetch her to the door?"

The young man was about to say 'yes please' when a white-haired gentleman with thick sideburns poked his head out of a carriage parked by the side of the road and shouted to him. "Marcus! Enough o' yer blatherin', get back in the coach! We've got a schedule t'keep!"

"Coming, Grandfather!" the young man called over his shoulder. Feeling pressed for time, he held the little box out to Bethany, looking most apologetic. "Please...see that her Ladyship receives this. My uncle is the Earl of Chichester, if she has any difficulty remembering me...we danced together at the fancy dress ball, her and I."

"Marcus!"

Bethany took the box from the lad, whom she judged to be no more than eighteen, and acknowledged his hurried, desperate look with a quick nod. Young Marcus thanked her and dashed back to the waiting carriage, a very fine one, even compared to Relena's. Bethany shut the door and went straight to the ballroom, turning the little box over in her hands and admiring the ornate red and green paper. She picked an empty bough on the Christmas tree and delicately balanced the box on its stiff green needles, then went back to work. On the bough right next to that one was another little box, surprisingly similar in size, shape, and appearance.

Since all the humans were very busy with human activities, the animals of the family were feeling a little neglected, and hence, a little bored. Shadow dealt with this in a very mature manner by hanging around the kitchen, watching the people scurry back and forth, and waiting for them to drop scraps of food. Anna Maria and Frederick, however, took the more juvenile route to end their ennui, and had a fight.

It was unclear where and when it started, but a white and tan ball of hissing, spitting, growling fur bounced around the halls, scrambled into the ballroom, ,and sped directly for the Christmas tree. Trowa and Elsie were in the vicinity and spotted the blur as they were setting up candles on the temporary dinner table, but were too slow to avoid a minor catastrophe when Anna Maria took a flying leap into the tree. Presents fell from the shaking branches as the fluffy white cat burrowed deeply into the green boughs, trying to escape the barking terrier below. Elsie dropped what she was doing and ran over to intervene; Trowa followed close behind and crouched down next to Frederick, holding him back while Elsie bravely extracted the manic cat from the tree.

"Blimey! Wot's got into these two!?" she whined. "'Ere, put 'em in sep'rate rooms while I clean this mess up." She gave Anna Maria to Trowa and set about fixing the disorder the animals caused.

Trowa tucked Anna Maria under one arm and Frederick under the other, while they flattened their ears and snarled. He carried them out, talking in gentle tones and trying to emote a feeling of tranquillity to them. "Now, calm down...this is the season of goodwill, and that means no biting..."

Meanwhile, Elsie reassembled the gifts and decorations fairly quickly, but found she had two left over. Two small boxes, about the same size, about the same shape, with nearly identical wrapping paper. On the floor were two gift tags, both addressed to Relena, one from Heero and one with a name Elsie didn't recognize. It was impossible to tell which tag had fallen off which gift. Impasse.

After a little thought, Elsie decided that, since she had a fifty-fifty chance of getting it right, and since both gifts were destined for the same person anyway, it didn't much matter which gift bore which sender's name. She assigned a random tag to each box, put them back on the tree, and went about her business.

**********  
  


Lord Peacecraft began many Christmas traditions at Bridlewood, ones that Relena was determined to uphold. One was that instead of the family and servants eating not only in separate rooms but at separate times, everyone should share a communal meal at the same table, with all the food laid out at once so there was no need for table service. Duo's fine feast, on which he had lovingly laboured for days, was greeted with delight all around the table. There seemed enough to feed a gathering twice their size, with soups, vegetables, salads, potatoes, and desserts all piled together in fine china bowls, between baskets of freshly baked rolls and four-course place settings. The crown jewel, placed near the head of the table, was a huge, plump goose, stuffed and roasted to perfection; Relena cordially asked Treize to carve it in her father's stead.

All throughout the meal, furtive looks were being secretly tossed around the table under the cover of polite dinner conversation. Duo and Relena threw sidelong glances in Heero's direction quite often, Treize maintained sporadic eye contact with both Otto and Dorothy, and Heero swapped the occasional glare with Wufei, who had been invited to sit on Relena's right hand as her honoured guest.

When the entire family had eaten their fill, but before the sedating effects of overstuffing could kick in, Relena rose from her chair and made an announcement. "I wanted to save this until we were all together, and before we go on with the decorating, I'd like to share it with you now." She took a battered envelope out of a pocket in her skirt and held it reverently to her heart. "It's a letter I received a few days ago...from my brother."

Arthur, Quatre, and the three older housemaids gasped in joy, while the others wore expressions of mild curiosity. It had been some time since there had been any news from the battlefield, and in spite of the brave face Relena put on every day, they knew she was deeply worried. All eyes were upon her as she opened the envelope, cleared her throat, and read the words that flowed from her brother's pen.

"'My dear sister...I hope this letter finds you well, and reaches you in time for the holidays, especially since this Christmas will be a very difficult time for you...without Father. I know...that he'd be very proud of you and the way you're managing the estate, as am I.'" Already, she was blinking back tears, and the housemaids mirrored her action. "'The battle is going well, and our commanders feel that victory is imminent. For my service to the regiment, I have been granted a field commission, raising my rank from Second Leftenant to _Captain_, and the best news of all is that our regiment may be one of the first to come home!'" Fired up by the excitement in Relena's voice, most of her audience cheered and chattered excitedly...all except two.

Something in the letter tripped an alarm in Heero's brain. _Second Leftenant to Captain? A two-rank promotion for someone so young is very unusual..._ He looked past Doris to Treize and saw that he also had heard something in the letter that made him think. _Perhaps the thought that her brother could come home sooner than Treize expects. If he has any sinister work left to be done in this house, having another Peacecraft around would be a severe hindrance._

"'Send my warmest regards to Otto and Uncle Treize, and my heartfelt affections to the staff,'" Relena continued, her voice starting to crack a bit from unshed tears. "'Wish them all a Happy Christmas for me. All my love.......Milliardo.'" The tears of joy finally fell, and as she sat stiffly and proudly back into her chair, all the housemaids and Quatre besides leapt forward to offer her hugs and to say how happy they were for her. Heero easily noticed that Treize and Dorothy were exchanging glances, and decided to keep an eye on them both as much as possible that evening.

**********  
  


The quality of Noin's life had been on a downward slide for several weeks, since the day Lord Jeffrhyss decided that she knew too much to roam freely about the countryside. Backed up by the threat of revealing her secret to the newspapers, he forced her to leave her position at the post office, as well as Mr. and Mrs. Trimble's cottage, and to take up residence in his underground chamber of horrors beneath the unobtrusive farmhouse. Now she was spending her days typing out page after page of calculations of some sort, and was rarely allowed outdoors.

Once she was finished her day's quota of work, she could read the letter that came for her on Friday, since it was kept from her temporarily as a form of insurance. She took a large stack of finished papers to his Lordship's giant oak desk, quickly swapped them for the letter, and retreated to the farthest corner of the cavernous room to read it by the light of a single candle. Knowing that if she used up that candle, she wouldn't get another until the end of the week, she read fast.

_'My dearest angel...we have high hopes that the war will soon be over. New ground is captured from the enemy every day, and with each advance I think about going home...about coming back to find you. I've been promoted to Captain, so our future together may be a little more secure, if your family continues to object to me. Please write soon...I miss your letters terribly.'_

Noin lowered her hands into her lap and sighed. _What am I supposed to write? 'My life's been taken over by a madman, wish you were here'? I doubt he'd even let me write to you or anyone else. I'm trapped here..._ Before she could start crying over the misery of her situation, she finished reading the letter and concealed it in her dress. Her tiny room was subject to periodic searches, but she herself was off-limits, thankfully.

She took a long look around the dreary room that had become her prison, so full of dusty books, charts, and boxes that a person could just barely move from one end to the other without losing any toes. It was no place to spend Christmas. Summoning together a few scraps of courage, she stood and walked slowly to Lord Jeffrhyss' desk, where the haggard old man was intently studying some political maps.

"Master?" she said softly, wincing bitterly at the word. He didn't seem bothered about acknowledging her, but she went on anyway. "I've finished my work...and I was wondering if I could go into town for awhile."

Jeffrhyss didn't even look up. "If you're bored, there's plenty more typing where that came from."

"I'm not bored," Noin insisted, "I just want to go out for awhile. The whole town is gathering at the Rose and Crown by now, and...and the Trimbles will be wondering where I am..."

"You have already made your excuses to the Trimbles," Jeffrhyss said between page turns. "To do so a second time would be wasteful."

"But it's _Christmas._" As soon as she said it, she regretted it. Nobody stood up to his Lordship without paying a terrible price, and she knew she'd made a mistake as soon as those dark, round spectacles turned upwards, slowly. Noin took a step back, expecting the heavy wooden cane to come flying across the desk at her.

"Christmas," Jeffrhyss spat. "Yes, of _course_, the one day each year when all mankind extends both arms in friendship...and tomorrow morning, the good citizens will cut in front of each other in the market, let their children and animals trample other people's property, and have their shouting matches over who was first to park his horse and cart in front of the fruit stalls. Hypocrites!" Noin flinched as he shouted, and seemed to give up on the idea of momentary escape.

While he stared at his work and she stared at the floor, a third voice surprised them both, floating down the stairwell from the main level. "At Christmas play and make good cheer, for Christmas comes but once a year!" They both looked up as the voice was followed by footsteps, and into the flickering orange lamplight walked the mushroom-haired man.

Jeffrhyss was not amused. "How did _you_ get in?"

The mushroom-haired man waved his pipe in the air nonchalantly. "Your doorman seems to have achieved a state of invisibility. I asked him very nicely to tell me how he did it, but he wouldn't answer me. Is he chronically shy?"

"I don't _have_ a doorman," Jeffrhyss snorted.

"Thank heaven for that, I thought he was ignoring me." The man twitched his moustache back and forth expertly, walked up to Noin and elbowed her like an old chum. "He's not very good with sarcasm, is he?" Noin held back a smile as he took off his own spectacles and grinned stupidly at Jeffrhyss. "Well? Aren't you going to introduce us?"

Jeffrhyss grumbled and glanced up from his work. "His name is Giorgenson, and he's a nuisance."

"_Professor_ Giorgenson," the mushroom-haired man corrected, gallantly bending down to kiss Noin's weary hand.

Noin nearly fell over from shock. _'Professor'? He certainly hides it well...but I was right about them knowing each other._ She smiled for him. "Lucrezia."

"Charmed." Giorgenson released her hand gently, then turned on Jeffrhyss with a scowl. "Now what's this about you not letting this exquisite flower go out for the evening? It _is_ Christmas, after all!"

"It would be unwise of you to meddle," Jeffrhyss warned him, "and you should be grateful for her presence. If not for the fact that there is a lady in the room, I might have shot you where you stood."

Giorgenson chuckled. "Oh come off it. In forty-five years, you've never been able to kill me. You hate to hear it, but you're too soft-hearted. Now get off your damn high horse and let this young lady come to the pub with me for a drink."

They did indeed know each other, better than Noin could have ever imagined. She held her breath as the pair of old warriors stared each other down, until Jeffrhyss snapped his eyes back down to the maps and snorted a second time. "Return to me by midnight."

Noin blinked, wide-eyed, and marvelled at the persuasive weight this Giorgenson fellow held over her master's head. Before Jeffrhyss could change his mind, the curious gentleman stowed his pipe in his pocket, linked her arm with his, and promptly escorted the baffled lady straight out of the cottage, down the path, and into the village to join in the jubilant Christmas celebrations. As the evening wore on, they stuck together, and saw fit to tell each other many fascinating things about themselves, irreversibly strengthening their alliance.

**********  
  


Night fell upon the manor, and with only a few moments left until the guests began to arrive, Relena was putting her cheerful but nervous energy to good use by checking over some last-minute details. In the front hall, she called Heero to her so she could pin a sprig of holly to his lapel, a thinly-veiled excuse to be in close proximity with him. Notwithstanding, he knew when to stand still and keep his mouth shut.

"It was so wonderful, getting that letter," she said dreamily as she poked the holly stem through his buttonhole. "You know...Milliardo has always wanted the same secure future for me that Father did...to marry well and carry on the Peacecraft legacy here with my new family. Do you think that's best for me?"

Heero twitched. _Why does she keep asking me these things? Isn't that what Dorothy is for?_ "It's not for me to say, m'lady. Such a thing ought to be your decision."

"But you don't disagree with it?"

"...not specifically, no."

Relena smiled. "I'm so glad to hear that. Now, off you go to greet the guests. I'll be in the ballroom." She swept past him in her white lace gown, adorned with greenest ivy, and floated up the stairs. Lately, Heero never knew what she expected of him, and found the loss of control...unnerving.

The guests soon began trickling in, however, and it served Heero well to take his mind off things for awhile. It had seemed like such a simple mission when he arrived in June, but there were now so many extra complications that he actually welcomed the opportunity to shut his brain off and take the hats and coats of the aristocrats streaming in the front door.

The evening turned out to be a very pleasant one, with singing, dancing, kisses under the mistletoe, and tray after tray of Duo's canapés and petit-fours. Relena invited exactly one hundred and fifty guests, and all but one came, knowing the remarkable reputation Bridlewood had for throwing holiday bashes; there was even a small orchestra in the corner, who had been playing the Peacecraft Christmas galas for nearly twenty years, and provided the finest of every kind of music one could want.

Whenever possible, the servants were encouraged to put down their trays of food and drink to join in the festivities, an echo of his Lordship's desire to eliminate class boundaries, if only for one day a year. It was during one of these intervals that Heero paused to sample a glass of rosé wine, from one of half a dozen bottles brought by a guest who owned a winery. Somewhere between the hors d'oeuvres table and the south wall, a woman in a navy blue velvet dress caught up with him. "Having a good time, Heero?"

He looked up in surprise at hearing his own name from one of the guests instead of a finger-snap and 'You there! Boy!', then saw that it was Sally. He hadn't seen her come in, but was grateful to see her at all. "I find it...agreeable. I'm not an enthusiast of social occasions."

"Yes, I saw you hiding behind the giant blancmange," Sally quipped, pointing to one of Duo's mammoth sugary desserts. "I'm a bit late, but I made it after all...had a young gentleman keep me waiting."

"Indeed?" Heero asked slyly, raising an eyebrow.

Sally took a sip of her own red wine and nodded. "Seven pounds, five ounces, born about forty-five minutes ago. Just goes to show that mother nature doesn't recognize human holidays." Heero flicked his eyebrows up in agreement. Sally made a quick survey of the room, made eye contact with Duo some distance away, and nudged the conversation forward. "Duo really seems to be flourishing here. Looks like he's found his niche, doesn't it? It's wonderful to see him so happy, and with so many friends."

"Mm," Heero agreed through his tipped wineglass.

"He...seems to be very fond of you...in particular."

Heero paused with his goblet in mid-air, analysing the change in tone and cadence of her voice, then tipped it back the rest of the way and drained it. "On what evidence have you based this assumption?" he asked mechanically.

"That night he came to see me, to ask for help investigating Lord Peacecraft's death...he stayed a bit longer, and we talked for awhile. Your name kept popping up." Sally had decided long before then that she wouldn't tell Heero any of the things they had spoken about, even though Duo never swore her to secrecy. They had discussed many topics that frequently revolved around Heero; most of what Sally heard was at least mildly shocking, but she kept an open mind, and Duo's sincerity was so overwhelming that she couldn't help but accept his feelings. Now, she wanted Heero's side of the story, if she could get it. "He calls you his best friend. I was just casually wondering if you felt the same way about him."

Heero shrugged. "It would be more correct to say he's my only friend."

"Oh no you don't," Sally admonished him sharply. "Word games don't work on me, mister, and you know it. Come on..." She put both their wineglasses on a nearby table and led him to a row of chairs lined up against the wall, choosing the two farthest away from the crowd. "Now...I know you two are friends, but...if there's anything else, anything you don't feel comfortable discussing with him...I'm here to listen, and I would be even if you weren't my patient."

"Are you asking me this in an official capacity?" he asked.

The woman grinned, crossed her legs and leaned one elbow on the back of the chair. "Well, Lord knows I'd never turn down any of _your_ money. What you paid me for patching you up after that street fight redecorated my whole sitting room." She was very pleased to see a faint smile from her patient. "But if it's doctor-patient privilege you're after, you've got it."

Heero briefly wished he had his wineglass back so he could fiddle with it and keep his hands busy, but instead he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and laced his fingers together, sighing. "I keep feeling...unusually protective of him," he began softly. "When he tells me something unpleasant about his past, it upsets me, and yet just being in his presence can bring my stress levels down faster than anything else I know of. I spend hours trying to educate him every day, and it's occasionally frustrating, but when he gets something right...and looks so pleased with himself...seeing him happy _always_ makes me feel better, regardless of whatever else has gone wrong that day. That, and.....I've come to rely on his presence at night so much that I can't sleep when he's not there." When he looked up at her, she saw it written on his face that he subconsciously wondered if he was going insane. "What does it mean?"

Sally's heart was just about breaking as she watched him struggle to understand what was happening to him, mostly because she knew and couldn't bring herself to tell him. She had just begun searching her mental catalogue of good bedside manners for some comforting words to carry him through until Duo was ready to open up, when suddenly the music stopped and an announcement rang out from the centre of the dance floor. "Attention, please! Ladies and gentlemen, it's nine o'clock, and you know what that means! Get out your presents!" At Relena's words, the crowd immediately flew to the outskirts of the ballroom to retrieve piles of packages from under chairs.

I had been explained by Otto to the newer members of staff that all guests were required to bring at least one present to give to someone, anyone, so that there was a prolonged session of gift-giving in which everyone could participate, another Peacecraft family tradition. It was also the time when the family and staff opened their own presents from each other, as it had been done at the manor since the annual Christmas parties began. The band broke into another round of merry tunes as the guests happily passed around gifts and a long bout of joyous unwrapping began.

The Bridlewood mob made their way to the tree, and Otto, as always, played Father Christmas, as he was often the only one tall enough to reach the highest presents on the tree. Hilde found herself with a lovely new scarf and a pot of rouge, Arthur a repair kit for his bagpipes, a ship in a bottle for Trowa--some assembly required--and an archery set for Quatre, and on and on. There seemed no end to the cornucopia of riches set aside for them.

Treize was off in a corner, presenting a string of pearls to Lady Une, and soon after he'd fastened it around her swan-like neck, they slipped out to the balcony and weren't seen again for some time. Dorothy smiled as she watched them leave, then glanced over at Quatre for the umpteenth time, looking for a way to get near him, but Trowa was having none of it. Every time she looked their way, he scooted Quatre in the opposite direction. Though Quatre didn't truly celebrate Christmas the way the others did, it was a good way to keep his mind off his troubles, and Dorothy was very near the top of that list.

In another corner, Duo was unwrapping something squarish and rather heavy from Heero, and his eyes glittered when he saw what it was--a stack of phonograph recordings of Sousa marches and Dixieland, a perfect piece of Americana. Heero was equally impressed with Duo's gift to him, a set of gilt-edged books containing a collection of writings by Rudyard Kipling; he'd never before had the option of reading purely for leisure, so this was indeed a treat.

"Awesome! Can we move the phonograph into the kitchen so I can listen to these while I work? Duo asked cheerily.

"I don't see why not," Heero mused, admiring the embossed leather book covers. While Duo was reading all about the life of John Philip Sousa on the back of a record sleeve, Heero took him gently by the arm and whispered in his ear. "I have something else for you...not here, later."

Duo shivered with anticipation. "It's a date."

The commotion caused by a group of well-dressed girls sitting around Relena was growing in intensity as her Ladyship opened box after box, and as her entourage gasped at each gift in admiration. Eventually she came to a small square box in red and green paper, and read the tag aloud to her friends. "Marcus...oh! I know! The Earl of Chichester's nephew! I danced with him a few times at the Lord Chamberlain's ball...he came dressed as...some Greek person or other. He was a good dancer, and ever so polite..."

The pack of girls chattered about this Marcus fellow, remarking on his good manners, superb looks, and well-known wealth as Relena opened the box. There, on a red velvet cushion, was an exquisite pair of pink and white cameo earrings, edged in 24-karat gold, complete with a little certificate of authenticity from a High Street jeweller. Relena and the others oohed and ahhed over them as she held them up, and they promptly provided a mirror so she could put them on her dainty ears then and there.

As Heero watched the scene, he came to a slightly uncomfortable conclusion. If those earrings were from some person named Marcus, then he was in for a bit of an awkward moment, for he was absolutely positive that he had bought an identical pair of earrings for Relena, a token to keep his place in the house, as the swan pendant had been. He shrugged mentally; Heero wasn't the sort of person to be embarrassed by a duplicate gift, and anyway, if she ever lost one, at least she'd have a spare pair. Perfectly sensible.

Relena moved on to another small, square box; the wrapping paper was very similar, but the name on the tag was not. She read the tag, allowed the others to read it, and in complete unison, they all looked over at Heero and giggled coquettishly. Heero looked around desperately for a tray of nibbles he could take to the other side of the room in a great hurry.

As Relena opened the second box, the reaction from the girls jumped several steps upward in volume. They all inhaled deeply, then began squealing in ecstasy, bouncing up and down and hugging Relena from all sides. In a flash, she leapt up, ran full-speed over to Heero and threw her arms around him, spinning them around under a sprig of mistletoe hanging from a chandelier. They were drawing a lot of attention suddenly, and two of the stares they received were from Duo and Hilde, who stood on opposite sides of the ballroom.

"Oh, Heero, I _knew_ you understood!" Relena chirped. "I never would have believe you wanted to move so quickly, but then I opened this, and...oh, I just can't _contain_ myself! Thank you!" She embraced him again, at such an angle that Duo could clearly see the poor boy was flabbergasted.

As soon as she let go, Heero reached for the little square box in her hand. "Wait a minute, what--"

"However could you have afforded it?" she cried with elation. "It must have taken all your wages from the last six months and _then_ some!" She opened the box to admire the present some more, and Heero got his first look at what 'he' had given her...a beautiful diamond ring. His eyes bulged.

"M'lady, I think you've got the wrong--"

"I suppose we'll have to start looking for a new butler soon," she said dreamily, as she slipped the ring on her finger, "and I hope you won't think it gauche of me if don't want to keep it a secret. Everyone!" The whole room froze. "As you all know, it's been a difficult year for our family..."

Duo squeezed between two portly barons to join the inner circle of spectators. He threw a wide-eyed, questioning shrug at Heero, and Heero returned it.

"...but the year ahead is going to be filled with endless joy and good fortune..."

As she coiled her arm around his, Heero kept looking back and forth between the diamond ring and the cameo earrings. He was _sure_ he'd put the right tag on the right box...

"...as Heero and I would like to announce our engagement!"

The ballroom exploded into cheers and applause from a crowd already too drunk to notice that he was the same boy who served them their drinks only moments before. Heero began to experience a swirling kind of tunnel vision, accompanied by a knot in his stomach and a severe ringing in his ears, and at the end of the tunnel was Duo, arms folded and looking perplexed. Without warning, Heero felt pressure on his arms, saw a golden blur in front of his face, and then pressure on his lips as Relena kissed him firmly and confidently under the mistletoe, amid more applause.

Reaction among the staff was varied. Otto was livid, Trowa and Quatre couldn't believe their ears or their eyes, Wufei ignored them all in favour of a painting on the north wall, and worst of all, Hilde scampered out the back door to the balcony, tears streaming down her face. Only Duo saw her run away, and promised himself he'd go give her a pep talk...as soon as he straightened Heero out.

The chef shoved his way through the crowd and was stopped three feet from Heero by a large diamond ring with a hand attached. "Isn't it lovely?" Relena cooed, displaying her ring finger for the guests' perusal.

"Yeah, that's great. Um.....mind if I steal the groom away for a celebratory drink?" Duo asked, looking pitifully at the pale white version of Heero who was still trying to string two words together into a coherent sentence.

"Well, I don't see any harm in that. Off you go, dear!" She gave Heero a little peck on the cheek and resumed trying to see her own reflection in the largest facet of the diamond. Duo had to drag the poor boy away, for he had temporarily forgotten how to put one foot in front of the other in order to achieve forward locomotion. Shell shock will do that do a person.

The gap they left behind was quickly filled by a very irate Otto, who leaned down almost far enough to bump noses with Relena. "Study. _Now._"

Relena gasped at his angry tone as if she'd been slapped across the face, but dutifully followed him out of the ballroom and down the hall to the study. Treize and Lady Une, evicted from the balcony by a Hilde in tears, came back in a state of confusion, were joined by Dorothy, and they all swarmed after Relena like curious bees. When they all congregated in the study, away from hundred of prying eyes and ears, Otto turned on the girl with the ferocity of an injured mountain lion.

"What in God's name are you _doing_, girl!? Do you have any concept of the mistake you're making!? I _demand_ that you return that ring and...and _dismiss_ that parasite immediately!!"

Relena's jaw hit the floor. "No! Why should I!?"

"M'lady, I think you've let the Christmas spirits go to your head," Dorothy said politely, "particularly the spirits known as port, gin, and sherry, if you catch my drift."

"I am _not_ intoxicated!" the girl shouted. "Heero gave me this ring because he knows, as well as I do, that Bridlewood needs a safe, stable family unit at its core. He's charming, well-educated, and we get along splendidly. I need someone at my side to help me run this house, and he's the perfect choice!"

"Isn't that what you brother is there for?" Dorothy asked. "You act as if you're the last of the Peacecrafts and your name is about to die out!"

"I don't know if my brother will be there or not, do I!?" Relena exclaimed with more tears in her voice. "I never expected father to be taken away, but he was! I know better than to count on my brother coming back alive and well, because you can't know the future!"

Lady Une was next to add her two cents. "My dear, you've overlooked one inescapable fact, that this boy is still _staff._ Anyone can be charmed by the good manners he uses when opening the door for the likes of us, but it's just a pretty facade. You can scrub and scrub all you want with peroxide and a wire brush, but he's still common underneath. _Really_, what will people say if you go through with this? Do you imagine you're doing this estate a favour by marrying the first thing in trousers that gives you a bit of attention?"

Bleary-eyed and desperate, Relena turned to her uncle, who had yet to voice an opinion on the matter. "Tell them they're being cruel for no reason, Uncle! Tell them, please!"

Treize thought it over for a moment, then smiled warmly. "My dear.....I wish you both every happiness." The other three adults gaped in shock. "And as my wedding present, I'd like to send you both on an extended honeymoon, anywhere in the world. Money is no object."

Relena hugged him with joy and whimpered into his tuxedo shirt. "I knew you wouldn't let me down...thank you so much." With that, she dried her eyes, turned on her heel while glaring at Otto and Lady Une, and marched back out to the ballroom to be with her guests. The recipients of the glares followed her, intending to give them even more pieces of their minds, but Dorothy stayed behind to give her piece to Treize.

"What did you say that for? Are you trying to ruin her reputation deliberately?"

Treize leaned in close and grinned evilly. "Think about it...she gets married, goes away for a month or more and takes that nosy brat with her, Otto insists on going with them as a chaperone, and the house will finally be unguarded. The staff will deteriorate into sloth and lethargy, leaving the way clear for us to conduct a detailed search of the house."

"But you don't have the blueprints!" Dorothy whined. "It's going to take longer than one honeymoon's worth to find what we're looking for! Are you going to keep paying for sun-soaked holidays and cruises until we succeed? We'll be operating at a loss!"

"Have faith in me, Madam Baroness," Treize said in a silken voice. "Once the three of them are out of the way, I don't think we'll have much difficulty in getting what we came for, but we have to hurry this wedding along as soon as we can before the brother comes home, or we'll have him to get rid of as well."

**********  
  


Duo thumbed through the small green book in the library, quite calmly, considering the circumstances. After reading a few sideline topics in a very relaxed manner, he found what he was looking for. "Yep, here it is, traditional uses of mistletoe. Christmas kisses...ward off evil spirits...symbol of peace among the Druids, blah blah blah...oh, here we go. 'A kiss under the mistletoe may also be used to seal a promise of marriage, as dates back to Spain of the...bunch of capital letters century.'" Duo put the book down and looked up. "Are those Roman numerals?"

".....hn..." The only other person in the room wasn't in a talkative mood, slumped deeply into a wing-back chair with a twice-drained brandy glass on the table next to him.

"Well, it's in here. People get engaged under the mistletoe. It's rare, but it happens. Guess she must've read it in here and figured she could make use of it. 'Course the ring was probably the real clincher..." Duo waited for any response, even a grunt, but heard nothing. "You want another brandy?"

Heero had one hand sloppily splayed over his closed eyes and finally spoke in between slow, deep breaths. "How.....in the _world_.....could I not have known....what she was doing?"

Duo didn't really want to bring it up, but he genuinely wanted to know. "Do you think maybe...that stuff Jeffrhyss is giving you is affecting your judgement?" Though the wing chair was facing away from Duo, he could sense its occupant slumping further down into it, and deduced that he really didn't want Duo to know what went on during his clandestine visits to Cloverderry Glen. "Look, it doesn't take a genius. You're wasted by the time Thursday morning comes around, you go pay a friendly visit to your local megalomaniac, and come back looking at the dining room wallpaper like the sunflowers are coming to life and dancing the polka. You think I don't notice?"

As Duo walked around to stand next to the wing chair, Heero took the hand off his eyes and looked up at him in horror. "I don't, do I?"

Duo grinned and pulled up a chair for himself. "Okay, I exaggerate...but you _do_ come back a little spacey. I try to keep you out of sight in the kitchen somewhere until you level off."

Heero went back to sulking and staring at the carpet. "It's no excuse for not realizing she set me up until it was too late." There was so much more he wanted to express on the subject, but somehow he felt that Duo was the last person he could discuss it with. The very thought of marrying Relena and moving down to the third floor filled him with a bizarre anxiety that got worse, not better, when he thought of Duo, alone and freezing in that drafty attic bedroom.

"If you ask me, you've had this coming for awhile," Duo observed. Heero glared at him in confusion. "Not the engagement part, just being tricked into something. Think about it. You make your living tricking people into doing and saying things they wouldn't otherwise, and the law of averages has to put one over on you eventually."

That carefree grin was starting to get on Heero's nerves, and he wasn't at all sure why. "How can you be so....._okay_ with this?"

"You're not okay with it?"

"Of course not!"

"Alright..." Duo leaned forward on the arm of Heero's chair, raising an eyebrow. "Tell me why."

_Why?_ The question echoed and clattered around Heero's brain as he tried to pick out exactly which thoughts out of the whirlwind he should present to Duo. "Relinquishing my position as butler could mean a drastic decrease in my ability to watch Treize." That sounded good.

Duo stared back at him, studying those azure gems for anything second-guessed, anything held back, and found it without much difficulty. There _was_ more than one reason why Heero was reacting badly to the 'engagement', but the reasons were of a peculiar variety that Heero didn't know how to express, if he could identify them at all. Duo would be more than happy to help him through the process. "Heero...do I _look_ worried?"

Slowly, Heero shook his head. Duo picked the boy's hand up off his lap and clutched it snugly, suspending it between them. "You wanna know _why_ I'm not worried? Because I _know_ it's your _job_ to keep Relena happy, otherwise you'll be out on your ear, away from Treize, and your mission could fail. I _know_ you're going to play along with this engagement because you _have_ to, and I know Relena's not getting any more out of it than that. This is your job, but it has nothing to do with how you feel, so I'm not afraid." Duo softened his expression, his grip, and his voice all at once. "We're best friends, right?"

For once, Heero didn't need to think twice. "Yes, we are."

Duo nodded. "We spend more time with each other than with anyone else. We share everything. We tell each other...almost everything," he said with a smirk. "Would you want to change that? Would you want it to disappear?"

They traded gazes for several seconds, and Duo wondered if he wasn't being specific enough for Heero to understand, but he know he couldn't be _too_ specific without scaring him away. At long last, it seemed to click into place, and to the chef's delight, Heero shook his head. "No."

"_That's_ why I'm not worried!" Duo exclaimed. "You and me come as a package deal. We're a unit. That's why you shouldn't be worried about this whole engagement thing either, because I know, deep down, you really don't want to break up that unit. Because I know what we mean to each other." _Even if you don't._

Heero thought it over, and not only did he feel somewhat better, the anxieties seemed to make more sense. Relena was unknowingly forcing him to choose between herself Duo, in a way, and cleaving himself to one practically meant abandoning the other, although he wasn't entirely sure why. "You...do know that I didn't intend to 'give' her that ring...don't you? I gave her the earrings.....I'm sure of it..."

Duo suddenly slapped him lightly on the shoulder, shaking him out of a deeply contemplative state. "I helped you pick _out_ those earrings, remember? I know you didn't mean for any of this to happen, the presents must've gotten mixed up, that's all! Now, put your game face on, get back out there, and find out who switched those gift tags, hm? They couldn't get up and walk from one box to another, could they?"

"....you're right," Heero agreed, finding a stronger, more stable voice within him at last. "I need to find out who did this."

"Atta boy!" Duo pulled him up out of the chair and hung an arm around his shoulders, steering him back towards the party. He knew that as soon as Relena saw Heero, she'd be welded to his arm for the rest of the night, but Duo still wouldn't worry. _I won't give in to fear just because she's flaunting that ring to all the guests. She's no competition for our friendship._

**********  
  


Relena truly did glue herself to Heero's side for the remainder of the evening, which meant that he couldn't watch Dorothy and Treize, keep an eye out for uninvited sisters of Quatre's, find out who Marcus was and who switched the gift tags, or anything else he hoped to get done that evening. He saw Duo emerge from the balcony doors at one point with an arm around Hilde, who was very red of eye but nodding at his words, which were too far away to hear; Heero wondered what exactly had made her so upset, but there was already too much on his plate to be concerned with her. Slowly but surely, this mess would be sorted out, of that he was firmly decided.

When all was said and done, it was well past one in the morning before the last group of guests left. Relena graciously gave the staff the following day off, and they were all looking forward to sleeping _very_ late, without exception. Duo was feeling very smug as he changed into his pajamas, and with good reason. The food was a hit, his picture was in the paper, and he'd made enough ready-to-eat single-serving breakfasts and put them in the icebox that he could be the last one to get up the next morning and the family would still be fed.

He sat down on the bed, already shivering from the cold, and looked across the tiny room at Shadow, who had fallen asleep with one paw perched protectively on her catnip mousie, a Christmas present from Duo. He was watching her barely-twitching whiskers so intently that he almost didn't notice Heero come in and shut the door. The butler was already dressed in his green and black sleepwear and was carrying a large wrapped box.

Duo turned his head and broke into a huge grin when he saw the shimmering red and green papered parcel in the boy's hands. "Did you think I forgot?" Heero asked with a faint smile.

Duo just laughed and made himself comfortable, sitting cross-legged on the pillow end of the bed as Heero sat opposite him. "Nah, but you've got a lot on your mind lately..." The box was placed between them and nudged towards Duo with a gentle push. After twelve years of being allowed no personal likes or dislikes, Heero found that he genuinely enjoyed giving Duo presents, and savoured the giddy look of anticipation on the boy's face as he quickly but carefully opened the brightly-coloured box.

Inside was the most wonderful gift Duo had ever received, something he had longed for all his life, right after a family and a home--it was a blanket. A rich, plaid-patterned woolen blanket made of beautiful red, green and blue yarns, with fluffy tassels on two of its four edges. Eyes wide and sparkling, Duo lifted it gingerly out of the box and kneaded the fabric between his hands; it was thick and soft and wonderfully warm, just the thing to take the chill off in that frigid room.

"Oh, wow......I love it, Heero! Thank you!" He hugged the blanket to him, then narrowed his eyes at Heero with an odd little smirk. "Unless, of course, this is your subtle way of appeasing me so you can go back to your own bed..."

"Not exactly," Heero said, taking the blanket from him and shaking out the creases, "but I suppose I was secretly hoping for a little return on my investment." In one very grand motion, he swept the blanket around both their shoulders, drawing Duo close to him and away from the cold. Duo instinctively wrapped both arms snugly around Heero's waist, burying the side of his face into the other's chest, and before long, Heero had his arms around him to match. It was the warmest, coziest feeling either of them had known even since before the central heating failed, and neither one was keen to move.

Five minutes later, all was still quiet. "Shouldn't one of us turn out the lamp?" Duo mumbled sleepily into Heero's pajama top. The problem hung in the air for awhile, unanswered. The tidal wave of warmth and comfort overwhelmed their senses so much that the most massive problems like who was going to get up and attend to the lantern were insignificant.

Another few minutes passed. "It'll burn itself out eventually," Heero mumbled back, leaning his head against Duo's. Common sense told them both that even if nobody put out the light, they were going to fall asleep sitting up, and then fall over, but even that threat couldn't force them apart. It was much too comfy, much too warm right where they were.

Sometime between then and the morning, they must have settled down into a more comfortable sleeping position, but they couldn't remember it. One clear thing did lodge itself in Duo's memory, however, the thought that no matter how much Relena waved that diamond ring around or how tightly she clung to Heero's arm in front of the neighbours, Duo had absolutely nothing to worry about.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Thirty-Two: Relena has everything worked out for her future, from the centerpieces on the tables at her wedding to the names of her children, but Duo's not going to take it lying down. It's a tug-of-war for control of Heero's heart, and only one can win. Ring in the new year with the cast of Bridlewood Manor!_

Yes, the real Zechs had the distinction of getting a two-rank promotion, and I saw no need to change that. =^_^= And as you may have guessed from the promo line, the next episode is coming out New Year's Eve, and I'll try to get it out in plenty of time for everyone to get out to their various assorted celebrations. =^_^= (and people! don't drink and drive or I'll come over and personally whack you with an enormous paper fan!) 


	32. The Pact

=^o^= Shounen-ai! Shounen-ai! *dances*

**Disclaimer:** I wrote a letter to Santa Claus and asked for a set of five Gundam pilots for Christmas. He wrote back sending me a 200-page "booklet" on copyright laws and infringement suits, and said there was nothing he could do about it and how would I like a nice Gamecube instead? I'm currently thinking it over...

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Thirty-Two: The Pact

_"Welcome be ye that are here; welcome all, and make good cheer; welcome all, another year." ~New Year's Eve toast_

December 31st, 1901

While training to be an agent of a nefarious underground organization, Heero had sat through lectures on world politics, covert surveillance, assuming identities and the top ten ways to kill a man while leaving no evidence, but the current lecture topped them all: whether to serve fruitcake or sugared almonds at his wedding feast.

"I suppose we could just as easily do both," Relena chattered away, oblivious to her victim's anguish, "and we really should have something focal on the head table to draw everyone's attention in. Now, I thought perhaps an ice sculpture of a swan, but then I saw something else in one of these magazines..." She shuffled around in an impressive pile of literature on entertaining, which covered most of the dining room table where they sat, and finally extracted the magazine in question, flipping quickly through it and holding up the pertinent page in front of Heero's blank eyes. "Look! It's a pyramid of champagne glasses! You pour the champagne into the top glass, and when it overflows, it fills all the glasses underneath it! Isn't it fabulous?"

"....."

"Now, what about flowers? I think we should have the wedding in June so we can have roses absolutely everywhere! I know this one florist..."

Heero leaned far back in his chair and studied the fresco ceiling, again. Thirty-two bunches of grapes, fifty-six vine leaves, eighteen cherubs and twelve doves, same as there was last time. A June wedding. He had exactly that long to complete his mission, pack his things, and disappear into the night. The main trouble was that he wouldn't know when he had collected enough information on Treize until Jeffrhyss recalled him from Bridlewood. The other difficulty was what would become of Duo after Heero left; he couldn't take the boy with him, not to see Jeffrhyss, and yet he couldn't stay much longer without either disappointing Duo and jeopardizing their friendship, or disappointing Relena and jeopardizing the mission. It was a lot to place on the shoulders of a boy of only sixteen.

"...and then release a flock of lovebirds into the air as we dash into our waiting carriage, covered from top to bottom in pure white carnations! What do you think?"

"...hn?"

Relena scowled and slapped the magazine down. "Heero, you're not even listening!"

Heero stopped counting grapes and gazed across the table with his best feigned innocence. "Yes, I was."

"Then what did I say?"

"...we're having a fruitcake swan and almonds in the champagne."

Relena sighed and shook her head. "Oh...go and polish something, you're obviously not going to be one bit of use to me otherwise. Honestly, you men..." She went swiftly back to her magazines, peppered with the occasional colour plate drawing of the very latest winter fashions.

Never one to pass up a golden opportunity, Heero got up and left, wondering precisely how much more of her mindless prattle he could take before he snapped and dumped the entire collection of magazines over her silly head. He was only a few yards from the dining room when a much more welcome sight greeted his tired eyes and brightened his mood. It was Duo, jogging up from the kitchen with a light, uneven coating of pastry flour decorating his hair and clothes.

"Have you got a minute?" the chef asked abruptly.

"Several times over," Heero said.

Duo tilted his head towards the stairs with a jerk, and the pair walked silently down to the kitchen. Heero followed his lead in treading very lightly, as it was clear that Duo valued stealth very highly all of a sudden. When they reached the last step and crept into the kitchen, Heero heard why; somewhere off in the distance, perhaps only as far as the scullery, there was a very faint sound, sharp and plaintive, like someone sobbing.

Duo pulled Heero aside by one arm and gave him a rather severe look. "That's Hilde in there. She's been really upset for the last week, and I can't cheer her up anymore."

Unfortunate, yes, but what could Heero do? "Why do you need me?" he asked.

"You're the only one who can make her feel better!" Duo whispered harshly. "You've gotta go in there and tell her you're not really going to marry Relena! Explain it to her!"

"I can't get any more civilians involved in my mission," Heero protested. "I won't have it on my conscience."

Duo shook his head. "You don't have to tell her _why_ you're playing along, just promise her you won't go through with it!" He was met by a very justifiable stare of confusion, and squeezed Heero's arm in reassurance. "Just trust me on this one. Please?"

Heero studied the boy's peculiar expression, a blend of honesty and secrecy, and wondered if their friendship was the only factor pushing him into a state of total trust. _If it was anyone else...I don't think I'd believe him...but I have to trust my only friend._ Though he still wasn't sure why, Heero nodded, drinking in Duo's grateful smile before walking quietly into the scullery.

A petite brunette was sitting at a tiny table, peeling potatoes by the light of a depressingly small candle, languishing under a heavy cloud of misery and self-pity that could have been sliced with a knife and served as squares of novelty fondant. With each slow, clumsy pull of the paring knife across the gritty brown lump in her other hand, she whimpered and sobbed, unaware that she was no longer alone. Her first clue came when a slender, graceful arm reached over her shoulder and took the knife away, as if out of concern that she might slip and cut herself in her mournfully distracted state.

She turned and looked up; the moment she saw Heero, her hand flew to her eyes, brushing away both old and new tears. "Is something the matter, sir?" she sniffled, distancing herself emotionally by referring to him as her rightful superior.

Heero studied her face with the same confusion as he did Duo's earlier. _Why would he send me to talk to you? Does he know what you did while you were half drunk? Would he trust you as much if he knew how easily you might betray him?_ He turned the knife over a few times in one hand and set it down on the table. "You don't have to call me that."

Hilde nevertheless bowed her head respectfully, waiting for orders from above. Polish the woodwork in the sitting room, perhaps, or dust the bulbs in the electric chandeliers.

"I think you should know that I have absolutely no intention of marrying Relena, but for now, it's important that I let her think I will." He watched her face for any clear and quick reaction, then shrugged slightly. "It's complicated."

Hilde eyed him suspiciously. "He told you to say that."

Again, Heero brought out the feigned innocence. _He? He who?_ "Even if he did, it doesn't make it any less true."

"Well, it had _better_ be!" she exclaimed, jumping boldly out of her chair. "You and Miss Relena are _totally_ wrong for each other, and if you have to spend the rest of your life with _someone,_ it should be your one true soul mate, not her!"

Heero raised an eyebrow, fast becoming one of his favourite gestures. "My soul mate? I suppose that would be you?" The girl failed to answer, shrinking away just enough to be visibly intimidated by the question. He stepped forward. "Have you told Duo what you said to me? Have you told him what you did?"

Hilde looked away. Neither one of them needed to be reminded of the incident a few weeks previous, when she openly professed love for one man while kissing another. She was often quick to verbalize her affections for Duo, but her actions didn't always match. "I don't want to see him hurt any more than you do," she said coolly, "but if he _does_ get hurt, it won't be because of _me_. Now, if you'll excuse me..." In one quick swipe, she shoved all the peeled potatoes off the table and into her outstretched apron, and strode confidently past Heero, leaving him to wonder whose side she was really on.

He heard the girl meet up with Duo in the kitchen and crept to the door to watch them together. They seemed amiable to a fairly ordinary degree with each other, besides the occasional smile or hand on the arm. A memory from a few months ago bubbled to the surface of Heero's consciousness, of the day Hilde arrived at Bridlewood, and of the way she and Duo embraced on almost the exact same spot where they now stood. The ugly, wretched feeling Heero had felt in his gut that day suddenly returned, but he didn't understand it any better this time than he did the last. The only clear thing was that Hilde was becoming the most blatantly confusing person on the entire estate; nothing she said or did made sense, and that made her impossible to analyse.

**********  
  


Trowa and Quatre were more and more often getting caught in a clash of their opposing intuitions, but neither one could win all the time, and so some leeway had to be given. As a result, they were afternoon guests of Lady Une, against Trowa's better judgement. Dorothy had pestered them with unwanted invitations just long enough that Quatre couldn't take it anymore and finally accepted just to shut her up.

Being the very model of hospitality that she always strove to be, Lady Une gave the boys the grand tour of her mansion, after picking them up in her lavish, velvet-upholstered carriage. Though they kept their opinions to themselves, for all the crowing Une did in front of Relena about how superior her own dwelling was, the boys thought that it wasn't much more extravagant than Bridlewood. A few rooms were larger, like the parlour where she sat them down for a cup of tea, but after the way she normally carried on, they were expecting Buckingham Palace.

"You must be wondering why I asked you here," Une said, gesturing to her mousy, bespectacled butler to pour the tea.

The boys traded exasperated glances; redundant statements like that were a waste of time. "We're listening," Quatre said.

Une smiled. "Baroness Catalonia has informed me about your...family squabble. I know what you're facing, and I know what's at stake."

"Calculated down to the last penny, no doubt," Quatre replied acridly. "There's no sense in trying to pretend with us, m'lady. We all know where your _real_ interests lie."

The brunette favoured them with an even prettier smile. "Quite." She made a small gesture to the butler, who removed himself several paces to stand by the door. "I'm also aware that you two had something of a close call at the hand of one of your sisters not too long ago. It seems to me that what you _really_ need is reliable protection, before your family gets _too_ close. I would suggest...a sort of partnership."

"You don't have anything to negotiate with," Trowa said, folding his arms. "Since we made it out of that minor skirmish alive, I'd say we have the matter well in hand, wouldn't you?"

"I'm sure you should both be congratulated," Une said, "but be honest. If you hadn't been given a little extra help from that man in the alley, how far would you have gotten?"

Both boys sat up with a start. They had told Heero the basics of what happened that night, and they naturally assumed Une only knew about it because Dorothy had been spying on them, a craft she improved upon at every opportunity...but they never mentioned the specifics of how they escaped. That included the burly thug who appeared out of nowhere and took Shareefa and her partners to task. Quatre leaned forward. "How do you know about that?"

Une sipped her tea with a contented grin, letting them stew in their own anxiety for as long as possible before offering a response. "Consider what happened that night as a small sample of what I can do for you." Quatre's pale hands tightened around the arms of his chair as she spoke. "I can offer the services of the gentleman who saved both your hides in that alley, or you may choose another, or even several men from a large range of personal protection specialists. I will supply their salaries until such time as you win the tontine, and then, of course...I would expect a small token of your appreciation."

As the hideous facts slowly but steadily began to sink in, a white-hot flame at the core of Quatre's being grew larger, and hotter, melting his reserved nature into a venomous ball of rage hovering just behind his eyes. Without warning, he sprang out of his chair and lunged at Lady Une with a strangled cry of unfettered fury. Trowa restrained him just inches away from tearing her face off with his bare hands, and the butler came scurrying back at a blinding speed to protect his mistress from the irate boy. Both Une and Trowa looked shocked; they had no idea the gentle lad was capable of such anger.

"You had no right to do that!" Quatre shouted, struggling against his own bodyguard. "Shareefa might still be alive if you hadn't interfered!"

"And you might be just as dead," Une reminded him calmly. She waited until the boys wore themselves down battling each other and stirred some sugar into her tea. "I wasn't going to mention it, but you owe me your _life_, and I believe that all debts should be repaid."

Still standing just out of arm's reach, Quatre caught his breath, making no immediate effort to tidy himself up. His hair was a mess and his clothes were well-rumpled, but it suited his mood. "I don't owe you a thing," he spat. "I never asked for your 'help', and if you ever..._ever_ send any of your goons to 'protect' us again, they'll be treated as enemies, not allies!!" Equally rumpled and out of breath, Trowa glared at her, wordlessly agreeing with Quatre's ultimatum.

The trio stared, and no one moved. Finally, Quatre tugged sharply on his waistcoat to straighten it, and tossed back his feathery blond hair with a sneer of contempt. "This meeting is over." He stalked out the door with Trowa close on his heels.

Lady Une took that to mean, in addition to his refusal of her services, that he was also refusing the carriage that brought them there. _Very well...you can find your own way home, you ungrateful little whelp._ She pushed herself out of the chair and went to the parlour window where she could watch the boys try to hail a hansom cab back to their own estate. _We'll have to come to some other sort of arrangement, my dear boy. Make no mistake, this matter is far from settled._

**********  
  


Heero couldn't remember actively looking forward to something ever before, but he was finding the strange new feeling to be rather pleasant. Duo was making unheard-of progress with his karate lessons, and continued to learn at an alarming rate, even when practising tired. They made a point of going to the pub for a workout two hours every day, no matter how heavy their workload was, and they both counted the minutes from the time they woke until it was time for the lesson.

As a student, Duo displayed phenomenal memory, precision, strength, and determination. In the short time since the lessons began, he could skilfully execute several blocks and attacks, even quicker than Heero could remember learning them as a child. Knife hand, hammer fist, reverse punch, roundhouse kick. The balance and flexibility that made him such an excellent thief gave him an edge on the practical side, and the early start he'd gotten in Japanese helped him remember the name Heero used for every move he was taught. Shuto, tettsui, gyakuzuki, mawashigeri. Duo ate it up like candy from Heaven.

And yet...he still couldn't tie his obi by himself. Wrap, wrap, tuck, knot. Heero couldn't figure out why the simple things eluded Duo the most, but continued to tie his obi for him anyway.

"So what's on the slate for today?" the prize student asked, rubbing his hands together briskly.

"A block to combat the front kick," Heero said. "I'll assume a left fighting stance, and you come at me with your best kick. Then I'll pivot just before the moment of impact, catch your right ankle with my left hand, and deflect the blow. It's called a scooping block. Ready?"

"Are _you_ ready?" Duo replied with a smirk. "I've been doing pretty good, you know...I just might turn out to be unblockable. Think you can handle it?"

Heero betrayed none of his inner chuckling. "I might just cope." Duo's smirk grew as his opponent took up the stance.

What happened next, or more specifically, what went wrong next, was almost too fast for the human eye to diagnose. Duo thrust forth with the most powerful front kick he could muster, and they both underestimated it's power. Heero twisted and caught Duo's ankle with perfect timing, but instead of being fully deflected, the foot kept going. Then Duo's other foot slipped out from under him due to the excessive forward motion, and at that point, he panicked, grabbing hold of Heero's gi at the left shoulder. Heero was just beginning to twist counterclockwise to deliver a reverse punch and finish the move when Duo tumbled over backwards, dragging his very surprised teacher down with him. Duo slammed into the mat, and Heero slammed into Duo, face-to-face and short of breath. It hurt.

They were stunned for several seconds and didn't seem to notice that they were lying on top of each other in any way. Slowly, Heero came to first and propped his upper half up on one elbow, coughing and grabbing for his alignment-compromised lower back. Duo was still seeing stars but saw a vague, heavenly outline of Heero's face among the twinkling lights.

"Does it count...as leaving my gi...in a heap on the floor...if I'm in a heap on the floor...while wearing it?" Duo gasped out.

Heero winced good-naturedly. "We can...make allowances..." With that very practical thought, he rolled off of his student, and they laid side-by-side for awhile on their backs, waiting for the world to stop spinning so fast. Duo looked to his right, saw Heero the Indomitable flat on his back and looking peaked, and burst out laughing, miraculously cured by his own mirth. Heero looked to his left, took in the sight of his very own joyful jester, and his inner chuckling slowly became very quiet outer chuckling. It wasn't much, and it didn't last long, but by the dictionary definition, Heero laughed for what he honestly believed to be the first real time.

The boys eventually collected themselves, mentally and physically, got up off the mat and went on with the lesson. When their time was up, they both changed back into their street clothes in the basement, rather than unfairly make one of them trudge upstairs to change in a different room. Since there was another layer underneath the gi, particularly covering the scars on Heero's back, he had no reservations about it, and neither did Duo, certainly. Before they went back home, however, Heero remembered something that made them both trudge upstairs anyway.

He took Duo up to his rented room and asked him to help empty the closet of several bundles of newspaper. "These date back to a few days after the Queen's death," he explained. "I was released into London and began immediately scanning the media for any public information on Treize. I started ransacking Relena's morning paper to save travelling time here and back, but..."

"But then I learned to read, and you had to keep it out of my grubby little paws," Duo finished with a grin.

"Something like that," Heero conceded. "I've taken out all I can for my scrapbook, and I was about to throw the rest away, then I thought you might like to go through them and pick out anything you'd like to save."

Duo's eyes lit up like fireworks as he looked at the piles of tightly-bound newsprint, containing all sorts of stories he'd never have been able to read if not for Heero. It was a marvellous opportunity to actually learn about the world he'd been struggling to survive in, and it seemed almost too good to be true. "There's a lot here...won't it make us late getting back?"

Heero shrugged. "I've been officially relieved of duty as of Christmas Day. Let someone else pour madam's afternoon tea."

Duo's smile got even wider, and he plunked himself merrily in the middle of the floor and untied one of the thick newsprint bundles. They sat and reminisced about the past year from different angles, got their hands well-coated in a thin layer of black ink, and just rounded off a very pleasant afternoon together. When Duo finally found something in the newspapers that he wanted to save, Heero went to the writing desk, opened a drawer, and produced a clean, new scrapbook to store their personal memories in, to keep them separate from the doom and gloom of the other scrapbook.

"What have you found?" Heero asked, cracking open a fresh jar of paste.

"Here you go..." With a smile and a flourish, Duo proudly held up his first selection from the news of the world, dated October 24th, 1901. Heero took it from him, read it, and eyed him with curious skepticism.

"'Schoolteacher survives world's first trip over Niagara Falls in a barrel'?"

Duo blinked at his lack of enthuhsiasm. ".......what? That's legitimate news! They say she took a black cat in the barrel with her, and when she got out after going over the Falls, the cat was snow white! We'd better not let Shadow see this, it'll scare her to pieces." The other boy's glare wouldn't budge. "Alright, smarty, what did _you_ pick?"

Heero casually handed over his selection, an article dated only a few days ago, from a small, privately-funded paper with no specific political agenda. It had a picture attached, a picture of a smiling youth with a long braid, shaking hands with a portly priest. "Hey..." Duo whispered with a matching smile, "that's me!"

It was indeed Duo, the lovable boy some Londoners would recognize as the generous soul who gave up an incredible sum of money to benefit the orphans of the church that cared for him as a tiny child. He cradled the wisp of newsprint and was truly touched by Heero's choice. "I don't know what to say..."

Heero just smiled and brushed some paste onto the page for which the article was destined. "The picture says it for you just fine." He sealed it into to the book, next to Annie Edson Taylor and her famous barrel, and eventually the pair wandered downstairs to order a quick meal from Catherine before going home.

**********  
  


In spite of Otto's insistence that she'd catch her death of cold, Relena couldn't resist taking the family to the front lawn of the Houses of Parliament, overlooked by the Great Clock of Westminster for the New Year's Eve celebration. She and Heero piled into her carriage with Treize and Dorothy, and Otto drove, leaving the servants at home to have their own simple celebration with a deck of cards and a bottle of brandy.

Duo naturally wasn't content with that, and after crawling up to bed complaining of a headache, he slipped out under the cover of darkness, bundled up in his new scarf and overcoat. A few blocks from the manor, he proudly hired himself a cab with his own money and followed them, determined not to let a certain blonde haired, blue eyed viper sink her fangs into his friend.

There was a substantial crowd gathered at the pertinent spot; mulled wine and hot apple cider were in plentiful supply to keep them all warm and cheerful until the hour of midnight, and some were even singing songs to pass the time. Relena was all decked out in a fur coat and hat, and kept her hands warm in a white ermine muff while she paraded the large trinket on her arm in front of the townsfolk.

The trinket, for his own part, didn't see what all the fuss was about, and found the entire production of counting down to the new year to be somewhat redundant, but he played along, for Relena's sake. As soon as she noticed his attention was waning, however, she had to give the poor boy something to do. "Heero," she cooed, "would you be a dear and fetch me a glass of cider, please?"

"As you wish," he answered in his usual subservient tone.

Dorothy prodded Treize in the arm and grinned charmingly up at him. "Run along and get me one too, would you?"

Treize's smile was dripping with false sincerity as he turned her way. "I'd be delighted," he lied, and went off along a different route than Heero to the beverage vendors.

Once the men were safely out of the way, the girl talk began. "I'm so glad we came! Doesn't everyone look jealous of Heero and me? Ooooh, I hope Lady Une sees us. It must be driving her _crazy_ to think that I'm getting a husband and she's just an old maid!" Relena giggled into her muff while Dorothy adjusted her gloves and rolled her eyes.

"I still say you're making a terrible mistake, marrying below your station," the Baroness chided. "People aren't staring out of jealousy, they're staring because they think you've gone crackers!"

"Well, they can think what they like," Relena sniffed back at her, "because nobody's silly opinion is going to change my mind!"

Dorothy shrugged in resignation, painfully aware of how difficult it was trying to put the girl off any idea she'd latched onto. In all things, Relena was like a bulldog with a bone, unwilling to give up her prize even if there was no meat left on it. Switching tactics, Dorothy brought up a new subject to try and dislodge the old one. "Have you given any more thought to going down to Hampshire for a few weeks?"

"Oh, that..." Relena sighed. "No, I haven't thought about it, and I'm not going to until I've taken care of something much more important, _tonight._"

"Oh really? And what's that?"

Relena motioned for Dorothy to step closer so that nobody else could hear, unaware that there was a young man behind them, with his back turned, carefully listening to every word. He wore a long black mantle over a matching frock coat, with the high collar turned up, and had expertly stuffed his long rope of chestnut brown hair down the back of his coat to make himself blend into the crowd.

"I really only wanted to come here because of Heero," the girl explained in a low but excited voice. "There's a little book in Father's library that tells all about different holiday traditions, and I found a lovely one for New Year's Eve that Heero and I are going to share together."

The chestnut-haired youth sipped his cider and backed up half a step, listening more closely. _Do tell, m'lady._

"The book says that if two people kiss at the stroke of midnight on New Year's Eve, they'll be together for the whole year to come, guaranteed!"

"Oh, that old superstition," Dorothy scoffed," why do you believe such utter rubbish?"

"Because it's true! And I'm going to prove it to everyone tonight when we seal our immediate future together with a single, beautiful kiss!"

_Not if I can help it._ Just behind the girls, the young spy scowled and fought himself not to turn around and tell her exactly where to go. _We'll just see who gets to Heero first, won't we?_ He silently moved away from the pair, who went back to their chattering, waiting for their cider delivery. The boy glanced up at the huge round face of Big Ben and saw that there were only a scant few minutes left until midnight, and he knew he had to hurry. After ducking and dodging through a thick mob of people who were already fairly tipsy from the wine, he spotted what looked like the back of Heero's head and ran towards it.

Sure enough, there was the former butler, standing in line for cider with fifty other frost-bitten men on specific orders from their women. He crept up behind Heero's right shoulder, tapped him on his left, and smirked as the boy fell for it. The tousled black hair and wild blue eyes whipped to the left, found only an empty space, then whipped around to the right, and were greeted by a hearty laugh.

"Duo!" the startled victim exclaimed, gripping the boy's arms with a delighted gleam in his eye.

"Surprise! Glad to see me?"

"Actually, yes," Heero admitted gratefully. "I don't know how long Relena wants us to stay here, and while it looks like a lot of people, there's still nobody to talk to..."

That was a huge step for him, and Duo knew it. Normally, when faced with a dreadful social occasion from which he could not escape, Heero stood in a corner and sulked the whole time, not showing any desire for human contact that wasn't already obligatory, but now...now he seemed to crave that contact, and best of all, Duo seemed to be the one he craved most. "Well, don't worry about it, I'm here now. Boredom, begone!" Duo hefted up an imaginary sword and liberated Heero from the cider line that instant. They wandered off into the crowd and didn't look back.

Some distance away, Treize was talking quietly with a thin, clean-shaven, very respectable-looking man, and had also forgotten his promise to Dorothy. They looked over their shoulders once in awhile, a clear indication that they had no desire to let their conversation be carelessly overheard.

"It's going to be difficult without the blueprints, and without knowing exactly what we're looking for," the Count was saying quietly, "but it _must_ be somewhere in that house."

"Right you are, gov'," the thin man said. "Ol' man Peacecraft wouldn't 'ave gotten any of it outta the country wi'out _somebody_ noticin'."

Treize nodded. "Once we've persuaded her Ladyship to leave for her country estate, we can get what's left of the staff out of the way and search the house properly. I'll need at least a dozen of your top experts for the job."

"At your service, sir," the thin man replied.

Just then, a flutter of fur and blonde hair came rushing up to Treize, and the thin man disappeared as quickly as he had come. Treize looked down at his niece, flanked by Otto and Dorothy, and sighed.

"Uncle, have you seen Heero anywhere?" Relena asked nervously. "He hasn't come back with the cider yet, in fact, nobody knows where he is, and it's nearly midnight!"

Treize looked around, then up at the enormous clock tower. Indeed, time was very short, but Heero was nowhere to be seen. "If you want my advice, just let him be, my dear. We men sometimes need a moment or two _alone_...he'll come back soon enough"

Relena was getting much too hysterical to take the hint. "But you don't understand! I _have_ to find him before the clock strikes twelve! It's vitally important!"

"If you ask me, you're well rid of him, if only for one evening," Otto sneered. "Leave him wherever he is and let him come stumbling home drunk at three in the morning. Maybe then you'll see--"

Before Otto could finish his bout of pontification, Relena hefted up her skirts and ran away, determined to find her betrothed before 1901 ran out completely. Dorothy shook her head sadly. "I wash my hands of that girl. She just won't see sense."

Relena looked up at the clock and gasped with fright. Less than two minutes remained. She dashed through the crowd in all directions, and thought she saw Heero standing near a lamppost, but when she called out his name, he disappeared. Again she thought she'd caught up with him by a fir tree decorated with glowing candles, but again, he flew out of sight as soon as she made her presence known. After a few more sightings she realized that there was a second person attached to his arm, and stopped calling out to him. She tailed them at a good hunting pace, dreadfully curious as to who it was that kept pulling Heero just out of reach.

On the opposite end of the hunt, Duo was relieved to finally turn around one time without seeing Relena's face, but that didn't mean he was about to quit running. He led Heero by the arm on a zig-zaggy route all over the square before ducking into a narrow crevice between two tall buildings, hardly even wide enough to merit the term 'alley'. Heero offered no protest and simply followed quietly.

Once they were safely tucked into the alley, Duo listened to the crowd for a moment, their rumblings of anticipation growing louder and more fervent as the magic hour approached. He smiled. "Can I ask you something?"

"Ask me anything you want," Heero offered calmly.

"Do you like having me for a best friend?"

Heero thought briefly, then nodded. "Very much."

"Well, how about this..." Duo sidestepped until they were facing each other, with their backs to opposite walls of the alley, then took a small step forward. "If there was an easy way to sort of...promise, for luck, that we'd be best friends all of next year...would you do it?"

This time, Heero had such trust in the boy that he only thought half as long. "I would."

Duo's grin turned lopsided with giddiness, and he half-shrugged nervously. ".....'kay......alrighty, then." They stood looking at each other while, outside, the crowd was beginning to count off the final seconds of 1901.

Relena was frantically trying to trace the route her prey had taken. She had stopped searching out in the open, and began focusing on the little nooks and crannies around the square where a boy his size could hide to play a little trick on her. Yes, that had to be it. A game of hide and seek. He most surely wasn't running away...

"Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven!" the people shouted.

With her blood pounding in her ears, she ran and ran until she spotted one dark corner where she hadn't looked--a narrow and poorly lit alleyway with few people around it. She dashed ahead.

"Six! Five! Four!"

Frightened of what his reward might be but determined to take it, be it a warm embrace or a punch to the jaw, Duo crept closer to Heero and took hold of him by the shoulders, backing him up against the wall. He was nearly an inch shorter and had to tilt his head up slightly to get a good look at those frosty blue eyes at such a close angle...those beautiful, sapphire pools that seemed to beckon, not rebuke. He leaned forward.

"Three!"

Relena skidded to a halt just inside the entrance to the alley and saw her beloved being held up against a brick wall. His assailant was barely moving, except for something shiny and snakelike tumbling out of his coat collar...a chestnut brown braid. Her breath caught in her throat.

"Two!"

Heero shut his eyes and concentrated mightily on the warmth in front of him, while Duo's hopeful, impish face hovered only a feather's breadth away.

"One!"

Their lips touched.

The crowd roared with a collective cheer of 'Happy New Year', crossed their arms and held hands, linking them all into a long chain of friends and strangers. As they burst forth into a relieved chorus of 'Auld Lang Syne', Relena watched in gut-wrenching horror as the scheming, twisted street rat she had so blindly taken into her home pressed his mouth against Heero's. He had her fiancé well and truly trapped in that dark alley, and she felt sick to her stomach to think that sweet little Duo had fooled them all. The judge, the jury, the barristers, the public...everyone.

In spite of the hideous feelings oozing through her self-made facade of domestic perfection, she held her tongue. It would never to do make a scene, even in the worst of circumstances, and especially since Heero didn't appear to be struggling. He must have been confused. Bewitched. Hypnotized. It wasn't his fault. It could never be Heero's fault. It would all have to be sorted out later. She slipped back out of the alley and shoved quietly through the crowd, locating Otto like a homing beacon. The trio all seemed to be waiting for her, and after seeing the determined look on her face, were anxious to hear what she had to say, her first grand revelation of 1902.

"I've changed my mind. I want to go to Hampshire, and I want to take Heero with me."

They all looked surprised, and Treize did a good job of hiding his surplus satisfaction. Otto nodded in a befuddled sort of way. "Very well, m'lady. Will you be taking the staff as well?"

Relena replayed the gruesome scene she had just witnessed over and over in her mind. Heero had to be rehabilitated, as quickly as possible, and that meant separating him from the real problem. "Only _some_ of them. The rest will stay here." _And if it just means that Duo stays behind, so be it._

There was much excited discussion at that end of the lawn, but several hundred feet away, on a patch of lawn just outside the alley, the mood was serene. Duo and Heero crept back out of the dark crevice and felt the light of a thousand handheld sparklers warming their faces, waving in the mittens of men, women, and children who wrote '1902' in the air, welcoming the new year that was barely a minute old. Just inside their tiny circle of contentment, it was no longer winter but spring.

Heero had just been mildly educated in what best friends were supposed to do, and while it wasn't quite what he expected, he certainly wasn't disappointed. There was much about Duo's actions that he didn't understand, and much that he wanted to learn; a curious thought struck him, that for that moment, all too brief, he was the student and Duo was the teacher. Another thought occurred to him, that perhaps this was what being best friends was all about, not just one kiss, but a lifetime of learning from one another. The subject matter was essentially irrelevant...but nice.

He glanced over at his friend and smiled. "Kyugashinnen, Duo."

Duo smiled back and linked their arms together. "Kyugashinnen." _Happy new year, Heero...a whole year together...just you and me._

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Thirty-Three: The household is about to be unfairly divided as Relena prepares to relocate the family to her country estate. Who counts as family and who doesn't? The only one truly happy about it all is Treize--read on and find out why!_

And a big Kyugashinnen from Mitsugi to you! =^_^= Happy New Year! *fingers crackle* Oi...I need a little rest. What say we put a little distance between us and the next episode, say...January 11th? Thaaaanks. =^-^=


	33. Fare Thee Well

*makes a grab for the Kleenex box* ....slight angst!!

Disclaimer: My New Year's resolution is to write a good disclaimer! ......right after I lose ten pounds, clean out my closet, buy the Brooklyn Bridge and achieve world peace. The pilots and Peacecrafts below aren't mine, and that's a crying shame.

**Suggested Font: Times New Roman**  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Thirty-Three: Fare Thee Well

_"Wherever you go, whatever you do, I will be right here waiting for you." ~Richard Marx_

January 11th, 1902

Relena stared out the window at the street, lightly populated with socialites out for a brisk winter walk and the occasional horse-drawn carriage. A well-dressed couple in a Daimler motorcar rolled by, two of her neighbours who were famous for having the very latest and best of everything. _That could be Heero and me in a few months' time...that will be us. I won't settle for anything less, and anything that gets in the way will disappear._ She watched the motorcar like a hawk as it putt-putt-putted down the road and out of sight. _I want one of those._

When there was nothing left to look at, she turned and pranced out to the front hall, where she was fortuitously bumped into by Otto. "And where are they this morning?" she asked dryly. Her posture was regal and her eyelids were at half mast. She meant business.

"They've gone to the vet, m'lady," the house steward said in a disinterested tone. "Apparently they found some stray cat wandering around the estate, and they took it in...for a checkup...I suppose." He finished with a sheepish shrug that almost suggested guilt at allowing lowly servants to enjoy such a decadent indulgence as owning a pet.

Relena wrinkled her nose. "Stray cat...how common. Just what Frederick wants in the house, too, another feline. Well, as soon as they get back, make sure they understand that they're not to keep it in the house, or Anna Maria might be upset." She tugged at the thick crochet shawl around her shoulders. "Is everyone packed?"

"Yes, and the excess baggage is going out on the 12:40 train." Otto clasped his hands behind his back and shuffled his feet. "M'lady...I understand that Arthur's staying behind to tend the grounds, but I've counted the train tickets again and again, and there's one missing. Is someone else staying?"

Relena stood there and fluttered her eyelids; she learned how to do it out of a magazine, with Dorothy's help. "Yes." There was nothing more that she was obligated to say about it, and so she walked away.

Only a moment later, the front door opened and the missing persons returned. One was holding a little gray cat bundled up in a plaid woolen blanket, and the other was nursing a slight scratch wound on his hand. One was smiling, and the other was not. "You were such a brave girl today, weren't you? Yes you were! Does it still hurt, snookums? Has you got a boo-boo on your paw-paw?" one said while tickling the cat under the chin.

"No need to gush over _my_ injuries," the other deadpanned.

"Aw, you know she didn't mean to scratch you, she was just scared of the needle!" While Otto watched and rolled his eyes, Duo brushed snow off the blanket keeping little Shadow warm and nuzzled her soft fur. "But she's all better now...aren't you sweetie?" Shadow purred, confirming that, despite a harrowing experience at the veterinarian's office, all was well once again.

"_Master_ Heero," Otto said gruffly, "although you are no longer a member of the staff, her Ladyship would like me to remind you that it does _not_ give you license to go gallivanting all over the city whenever you feel like it. Your responsibilities are _here_, now more than ever."

"Perhaps she'd like to tie a string around my wrist and yank on it whenever she has another china pattern for me to look at," Heero said with a glare as he took off his coat.

"And she also asked me to tell you not to keep that...animal...in the house. There's far too much wildlife in here as it is without you two adding to it."

Duo took immediate offense, tucking the kitty bundle under one arm and perching his opposite hand on his hip. "I'll have you know she's halfway to being a pedigree 'animal', and now she's got papers to prove it!" He pulled a little typed card out of his inside coat pocket and held it up indignantly. "See? 'One blue Turkish Angora mix, aged three months. Certified for showing in the mixed breed category of any cat show in the Commonwealth of Great Britain.' Deal with it."

Heero smirked inwardly. Vets didn't usually give out certificates like that without signatures from the owners of the sire and queen who parented the cat in question, but even in the outer fringes of the medical profession, money was a great motivator.

Otto ignored the boy and walked over to Heero, removing an envelope from his own coat pocket and handing it to him. "This came for you while you were out." There was nothing else he was obligated to say to either of them, and so he also walked away.

Heero frowned at the handwriting on the envelope, hesitating. "I might need a drink before opening this," he suggested. Looking concerned, Duo followed him down to the kitchen, where they let Shadow out of the blanket and onto the kitchen table. The chef put a bottle of gin on standby as Heero sat down and tore the letter open, emotionally deflated. "I had to inform Jeffrhyss that I was being relocated, even temporarily. I don't think I really want to know what he has to say about it."

"Well...what's the worst he could do?"

Duo's eyes were suddenly filled with intense worry, and Heero couldn't possibly tell him that the only people who might have known that were long dead. Instead, he quickly put on a slipshod mask of indifference. "He wouldn't do any permanent damage to me. I'm far too valuable for that." It was probably true. He dove into the letter, and after only a few lines, Duo could sense a cloud of melancholy hovering over the table.

"How bad is it?" he asked.

"Bad enough," Heero answered. "He's following me to Hampshire." He studied the enclosed map to his Lordship's new bunker on the Isle of Wight and frowned, showing the page to Duo. "And from the look of this, he'll be even closer than he is now."

Ever since Heero's weekly trips to check in with his master began, Duo had a very uncomfortable feeling about what was going on, but he knew better than to just ask. Heero had always wanted to keep him as far from Jeffrhyss as possible, so Duo just had to accept that the less he knew, the better off he'd be. He put on his own cheerful mask that deftly deflected all rays of unpleasantness and smirked. "Hey, at least if you're late getting back, at that distance I could send a carrier pigeon to tell you when dinner's ready!" He followed that brilliant revelation up with a series of arm flaps and birdie chirps, the silliness of which finally forced a small smile out of his sullen companion. Having had enough bad news for one day, they carried their cat upstairs to finish packing for the long journey ahead.

**********  
  


"You must come and visit us in the country as soon as you can," Relena said, shaking Wufei's hand daintily. "It just won't be the same without you around, and you play _such_ a good game of backgammon! I'll miss you very much."

"Just name the time and the place, and I'll be there!" Wufei said with his most charming smile. "It has indeed been a pleasure working with you, m'lady." He kissed her hand, and with one final wink, donned a thick white coat and left through the front door. Relena lingered a moment, thinking about all the work he'd put into the rooms he redecorated, and walked away with a smile, shutting the door behind her.

Outside, Wufei was thinking about how well he blended into the snowy landscape whenever he pulled the hood up on his pure white coat, but he knew it didn't make him totally invisible. He went directly from the front step into the front garden, stepping between the sleeping flower bulbs and ducking below the windows. A few quick jumps, and he was around the corner and counting windows, looking for the one he left slightly ajar. He was nothing but a black and white blur when he leapt back inside, but he was still two rooms away from the safety of the drawing room, and his hidden wall niche where he'd be spending the foreseeable future.

There was, however, a major obstacle between him and the cone of silence--voices coming from the drawing room. "Relena's all excited about seeing the old family home again. I've never seen her so happy." A girl's voice. The snobbish one. Dorothy, he thought.

"Well, here's hoping there's enough there to keep her occupied for as long as this takes," a man's voice replied. Definitely Treize. Wufei crouched down by the doorway of the room across the hall and paid even closer attention. "Now, you know what to do, don't you? I'll come down with you all and stay for a week, two weeks at the most, then suddenly get called away on 'business'. By then, my men will have already completed a full survey of the house, and we'll have a makeshift set of blueprints to work from."

"Sounds like you've got the easy part," Dorothy whined. "I'll be snowed in with Lord and Lady Muck for the rest of the winter, don't forget!"

"Yes, well..." Treize paused, and Wufei could only guess at the action, but there was a rustling of cloth and a soft click, followed by a gasp from Dorothy. "I'm not expecting a smooth ride myself."

"Good grief...that thing's not loaded, is it!?"

"It most certainly is," Treize said calmly, and the rustling of cloth repeated itself. Wufei guessed correctly that the hidden object was a revolver. "Relena's decorator, the one that followed us all the way from Hamburg..."

"Yes? What about him?" Dorothy waited for him to clarify, without success. After she thought she recognized the dark-eyed boy from somewhere, Treize had confirmed him as the railroad porter who was so obstinate back in Dover, but he left out the part where Wufei held a knife to his throat and swore revenge for...something. As far as the Baroness knew, the lad just followed them around hoping to leech off of their class and superiority. Dorothy grew impatient. "What!?"

"He's not a decorator, or a simple spy," Treize said smoothly. "He's an assassin." Dorothy clapped both hands over her mouth to keep from screaming, and Treize used the conveniently-placed silence to elaborate. "To be perfectly honest, I've known for some time. I just didn't see much purpose in telling you...until now."

The Baroness sputtered and fumed, enraged that her partner would endanger her well-being so carelessly. "What were you _doing_, keeping this from me!? All this time he's been...a-and I've been...and he could have..._oh!!_ You're just _horrible!_ What if he'd kidnapped me for ransom!? What if--"

"If he was going to do anything to you, my dear, he would have already done it," Treize declared firmly. "Nothing personal, but as far as targets go, you rank slightly below a Cornish game hen with one wing and a limp. I'm the one he's after, but you don't need to know why. The only reason I saw fit to tell you at all is that I want you to inform me if he starts nosing around in Hampshire while I'm here working. I strongly suspect he'll be following us there today, but he wouldn't dare kill me with so many witnesses or he would have finished me off long ago. No, he's waiting until I'm alone, and it will seem rather suspicious to him when I disappear suddenly. Don't give him any information, but telephone the manor at once when you see him."

Dorothy whirled around and crossed her arms, with her nose in the air as far as it would go. "That's all I am to you, isn't it!? A lookout!"

"Nonsense," Treize said with velvet in his voice. He walked in front of her, positively glowing with his most seductive smile, and grasped her lightly by the chin, tilting her face up even further. "You're a very _pretty_ lookout." She did her best to ignore him, but he saw through it much too easily; his charming smile morphed into a smirk, and he released her, walking casually from the room.

Once he was gone, Dorothy shuddered in anger, clenching her fists into little white-knuckled clumps of fury, but when she finally composed herself, there was an odd sense of balance coming to the whole situation. _Alright...so he's been keeping secrets from me. I've been doing the same, haven't I? There's no telling how things would change if he knew about the Winner tontine...no, I'll just have to put up with his secrets, if I have any interest in keeping my own._ Confident that she was still doing the right thing, she composed herself, smoothed out her platinum blonde locks, and padded lightly out of the room.

The drawing room was empty, and the corridor was vacant as far as one could see in either direction. A white and black blur slipped across the hall, dashed through the drawing room with the silence of a prowling panther, and was safely inside the wall, all within ten seconds.

**********  
  


Relocating even a diminished household from London to the countryside was no small undertaking, especially in winter. The Hampshire estate had a full compliment of household items, including all the furniture, kitchenware and knickknacks a family could want, but there was still all the clothes, shoes, toiletries and valuables to consider, not to mention diverting the mail, postponing the newspaper, and cancelling several bottles of milk. The full wardrobes of every family member had been going out in shifts on the train, starting with Relena's impressive dress collection and winding down with the servants' uniforms.

Heero and Duo would be among the last to have their belongings transported, and they sat up in their room sorting everything out on the bed, what little there was; combined, everything they owned or were granted the use of by their superiors took up less room than Relena's hatboxes alone. Still, they were both going out with more than they came in with, and Heero was puzzling over how to fit it all into two suitcases and a carpet bag.

"Whoa...do you really use all these?" Duo asked, holding up one of the strange items that made Heero's luggage unusually heavy. It was an enormously thick book of street maps encompassing most of Europe. With it, he could pinpoint almost any city block or country lane in more than a dozen nations, if necessary.

"On occasion." Heero could scarcely believe that he was so comfortable and trusting with Duo that he would allow the boy to rummage through his small arsenal of top-secret supplies, but it was a strangely pleasant feeling all the same. He reached out to the bedside table and picked up one of the colourful metal watchbirds perched there. "We'll need something soft to pack these in," he said, handing it to Duo.

The chef smiled and took the little bird from him, stroking its wings and beak as he loved to do. Traditionally, they were supposed to have been on the Christmas tree on Christmas morning, but Duo had preferred to leave them where they sat, watching over him and his closest friend as they held each other in the darkness. "These were the first presents you ever gave me," he mused quietly. "Man...I thought you were _such_ a jerk the first day we met."

Heero shrugged. "I was."

"You wouldn't give me any help in the kitchen, even though you _knew_ I couldn't read any of the cookbooks, you smacked me around, called me an idiot..." Duo smiled. "Well, you still do that, but I've come to think of it as a term of endearment."

"And you still snore," Heero countered, "although I must admit, it doesn't bother me the way it used to."

"Must not, since you haven't pulled a gun on me lately," the chef taunted. "Geez...feels like it all went by so fast. How long has it been, six months?"

"Seven."

"Mmm."

A pleasant fog of memories floated between them as they each replayed their personal highlight reel of how they both changed since their first meeting. Heero knew without asking that he had changed the most, and he didn't want to go back to the way he was. Twelve years of his life had been given over to an existence that he didn't even know was miserable until recently; now, he had a bit of money, a bit of freedom, a safe home, some friendly acquaintances...and best of all, a little braided bedmate who kept him warm at night, and made him feel wanted during the day. There were still wrinkles to be ironed out, but on the whole, life was good.

Duo seemed to be reading his thoughts, something he liked to do at least twice a day. "Otto says the country house we're going to is even bigger than this one, so it might have more space for the servants...do you think they'll make us take separate rooms?"

"They can't make us do anything," Heero declared, sensing the lack of confidence in Duo's voice.

"Yeah, but...you're not staff anymore..." He was getting dangerously close to the subject of Heero's engagement, and while he didn't feel threatened by it, he really had no desire to talk about it either, and so changed the subject. "You know, that night you yelled at me for reading your mail and ended up chasing me all over the attic? I was _that_ close to running away and never coming back, but honest to God, being chased was a blast! I didn't realize how much I enjoyed it until later...you really should chase me more often." Duo hugged his knees to his chest, hiding his face a little as he smiled at Heero. "I'm glad you caught me."

Heero smiled back; he'd had severe doubts about Duo in the beginning, but things couldn't have turned out better. "Come on," he said, "let's start carting all this downstairs. You take the cases, and I'll go find a box or two for the rest."

"Right!" Duo jumped off the bed, took Heero's suitcases, and trotted downstairs merrily; it was all so thrilling, going with such a large group of people to a place full of natural wonders and open spaces, and he could barely contain himself. _Goodbye, yucky, dingy city with your filthy streets and gas fumes...hello clean country air! As soon as the snow melts, I'm taking Heero on a nice, long walk in the woods, and maybe we'll--_

"Are those Heero's things?" a girl's voice asked as soon as he reached the front hall. Duo cringed a bit. It was Relena, standing amidst a veritable forest of crates and trunks that had yet to be transported. She wore a posh lace dress, a posh air of superiority to match, and was looking at him very strangely.

"Yeah, he's upstairs packing up my stuff right now." He set the cases down, turned around, and began walking away with the intention of putting as much distance between himself and the girl as possible, but he didn't get far. Relena strode quickly forward and stopped him with a firm hand in the centre of his chest. He looked up slowly, shocked at how fast she'd intercepted him. "Uh...something wrong?"

Relena removed the hand, scratched the side of her nose, and rubbed her fingertips together, thinking. "Duo, the train tickets are sitting on the mantle in the parlour. Would you get them for me, please?"

Duo blinked. "Sure." He might not have liked her personally, but he liked to be helpful, and went very obediently to the parlour to fetch the tickets. He brought them back in a neat and tidy pile and held them out to her.

"Count them," she said.

Duo thumbed through the tickets, separating them one by one. "There's, ermm....eleven."

"Thank you." Relena took the tickets and walked away.

While she put the stack of one-way passes in her purse and donned her crochet shawl again, Duo stood puzzling, his eyebrows knit as he did some quick mental math. "Wait a sec...there's you, me, Heero..."

Relena swung around to face him with a snake's smile, delighting in the perplexed expression the boy wore as he counted off the family on his fingers.

"...Tro n' Quat...Beth, Hilde, Doris and Elsie...the Count, the Baroness, Otto...and Arthur's staying to look after the grounds...that's twelve! You're short one ticket!" He rather expected some display of panic from Relena, however small, but she just stood there, grinning. A heavier-than-usual application of 'Charming Charcoal' eyeshadow to her upper lids gave her a winsome but somewhat sinister appearance. "Well, what are we gonna do? Shouldn't someone call the station and find out if the train's full yet? Shouldn't there be a contingency plan in case of emergency? Shouldn't...shouldn't you be _blinking_ or something??"

"Every person who is _going_ to Hampshire is being given a ticket," she said, walking very deliberately up to him, still displaying that reptilian grin. "But you're _not_ going."

"......_what?_ Why!?"

She just about giggled at the pasty gray colour he turned, running a finger lazily up and down the lapel of his brown tweed jacket. "It's very simple, _Mister_ Maxwell. Heero is my fiancé. I am responsible for him. _You_ are a bad influence. By taking him away and leaving you in London, I am thereby _removing_ that influence."

"You can't _do_ that!" Duo huffed. "And anyway, I don't know where you _get_ your silly ideas, but--"

"I'll save you the indignity of lying, since I know you have a moral objection to _that_, if nothing else," Relena spat. "I _saw_ you force yourself on Heero at the party on New Year's Eve. You can't hide your disgusting habits from me anymore, because I _know_ what you are, but as long as you have Prince Edward's signature on that piece of paper in the drawing room, I also know I can't get rid of you without causing a scene in the newspapers...so I'll make you a deal. I get to rescue Heero from your depraved, immoral attitudes, and you don't get fired."

Duo stretched up to his full height and squared his shoulders, to remind her that he was an inch taller and several pounds heavier. All that protein and working out with Heero paid off; he was no longer a stick insect. "First...you don't know jack about who or what I am. That's for God to decide. Second, what do you figure you're gonna do for food out in the country without me around? Order out from a bed and breakfast? Forage for nuts and berries? Swipe the neighbour's cow and portion it out to the staff one steak at a time?"

"We have plenty of workers on the estate," she countered, not the least but intimidated, "I'm sure I'll have no trouble finding one of them to cook for us, and if not, there's always Elsie. Besides, Uncle Treize is sending some workers here to clean this place professionally from top to bottom, and they'll need to be fed, so unless you want to leave of your own free will and take your pathetic chances in a country with twelve million impoverished and unemployed, you have _no_ choice."

Duo bristled and looked away, fists clenched and neck muscles straining with rage. It took an awful lot to make him angry, even on a bad day, and the only thing that saved Relena from a fierce and extraordinarily painful hair-pulling worthy of the Spanish Inquisition was a set of approaching footsteps. Heero walked up from the servants' stairwell, having just missed the tail end of the exchange, balancing a box on his right shoulder with one arm and toting a carpet bag with the other. He slowed down when he sensed what could only be described as bad vibes.

There was something decidedly odd about the way Duo and Relena were looking at each other, Heero thought, but his first duty was to deposit his cargo safely with the rest of the luggage bound for Hampshire. Relena scrunched up her nose at the dusty old carpet bag from the attic in particular, picking it up gingerly like an oily rag and presenting it to Duo. "Is this yours?"

Duo glared with the heat of ten thousand hells and took it from her. "Yes, miss."

"Well, take it back upstairs, and anything else of yours that's gotten mixed in with our things."

As the scowling boy picked up the box as well and started away, Heero looked back and forth between them frantically. "Wha--...where are you...what's going on?"

Relena snatched him expertly by the arm and began marching him towards the opposite hallway, stroking his cheek. "Don't worry, darling, he's not coming anywhere near the country house. I've taken care of everything, and now I'm going to take extra special care of _you_." Heero didn't even waste his energy glaring at her, he just twisted violently out of her grip and ran after Duo. Relena recoiled from his forceful retreat that could have sprained her delicate little wrist if he'd been the slightest bit more careless about it. "Heero! Come back here!" she shouted, but it was no use. _Oh no...it's even worse than I thought. Oh, my poor angel..._

Heero caught up with Duo at nearly full gallop and jumped in front of him. "What are you _doing_?"

Duo slowly stopped and looked up from the floor, his ashen face replete with mournful resignation. "I can't come with you."

He tried to shuffle past Heero with his meagre belongings, but Heero would have none of it. Still much stronger than his student, he grabbed him by the arm, backed him up into a random games room, and shut the door, now glaring at maximum intensity. Duo dropped his parcels dejectedly and stared at his shoes.

"You can't come with me just because _she_ says so?"

"Look, she's...really got me cornered. She threatened to toss me back into the gutter where she found me. I can't let that happen! I swore I'd never go back to that life!"

"Then you can stay at the pub until I come back."

"And how long's _that_ supposed to be!?" Duo hollered, finally starting to match glares with his teacher. "You yourself told me that you can't come back until June or the end of your mission, whichever came first! I'm supposed to give up the only paying job I'm likely to get to go sit in that pokey little room for six months with no books and no company? At least if I stay, I'll have Arthur to talk to!"

Heero's glare softened. "Then I'm staying too."

Before he could finish the phrase, Duo was already shaking his head. "No, Heero...you _have_ to go. You _have_ to keep an eye on Treize or..." His amethyst eyes filled with a pain that had lingered with him since Heero visited him in jail. "When I was cooling my heels downtown waiting for my trial, and you were in that little village up north...what did Jeffrhyss do to you?"

Heero stiffened from the neck up. _Forget it. I can't tell you what happened to me because of our impromptu holiday, not ever. You wouldn't be able to forgive yourself._ "Nothing."

Duo squinted sympathetically and took a step forward. "Heero...this may come as a terrible shock to the part of your brain that controls spying and subterfuge and all that, but...I can tell when you're lying." He could see, written all over Heero's face, that he was in a state of slightly embarrassed shock over that one. Obviously, nobody had ever told him that they could see right through his deceptions before. It just didn't happen.

"I know that guy did _something_ to you," Duo continued, "and I know you haven't been completely right since you started going back to him once a week. He's a total control freak who can't stand the thought of you having your own life apart from the mission, can't you see that? If you defy Relena and stay here with me, you'll be missing out on perfectly good surveillance time while Treize is smokin' his cigars eighty miles away, or _worse_, she could throw us _both_ out of the house, and then you'd lose Treize altogether! Your mission could be a failure! What would Jeffrhyss do to you _then_, huh!? Ground you for two weeks with a smack on the wrist? Nuh-uh, I don't think so!"

Heero looked down. He couldn't argue with any of it; further to that, all the times in the past when he had called Duo an idiot, even in his thoughts, were showing him up very badly now, for the boy was remarkably intuitive and intelligent, more so than even Heero had given him credit for.

Duo crept closer, hugging himself tightly, almost so hard that he couldn't breathe. It was torture, being so close and knowing they were about to be ripped apart. Duo ached all over to be held, but he wouldn't dare ask Heero even for that simple comfort; it would have made their parting ten times as difficult, he reasoned. "So...anyway...Treize is sending some goons to case the joint. Somebody's gotta watch _them_, so it might as well be me, right?"

There was a certain logic to it, Heero was loathe to admit. "Right." A depressing silence fell upon the games room as the boys realized this was their one shot at goodbye. They wouldn't be able to do it properly on the front step, not with the whole family watching from hired carriages parked a few yards away. That thought flitted back and forth across the unspoken bonds they shared, and at the same second, they reached out and embraced each other, committing every sensation to memory, to sustain them through their separation.

"You take care of yourself out there, okay?" Duo whispered.

"...and you keep up with your studies," Heero whispered back.

Cold set in around them as they gradually let go. Duo hoisted up his belongings while Heero opened the door, and they each walked away down separate paths.

**********  
  


There was quite the production happening at the farmhouse by the mill wheel outside Cloverderry Glen, and no one seemed to know why--or at least, no one seemed willing to tell Noin. The underground chambers beneath the humble country cottage were being cleaned out, to the last speck of dust, and a crew of no less than twenty people were assisting in the work. They spanned the ages of thirty or so right down to little children of ten or twelve, and they all ignored Noin purposefully as they marched up and down the stairs carrying boxes and books and crates and papers, all wearing the same bland rags. From a well-cleaned-out corner, Lord Jeffrhyss stood and supervised, balancing on his peg legs without the help of his cane, and watching the disassembly line for any signs of slacking off.

Noin was told to pack her things, for she would be accompanying his Lordship on whatever journey he was about to undertake; the penalty for disobedience was, as always, giving her secret to the news agencies to toy with until Noin's family, and the family of the young man she loved as well, were bereft of their golden reputations. She had to agree, for her love's sake, and was milling about in her tiny cell, putting her things back in her suitcase and putting on her gray cotton travelling dress. She was lucky enough to have a small shoebox window at the top of the outside wall, and if she stood on the bed, she could see the same people again, loading all the mysterious trinkets and charts into strange boxes on wheels, hardly fitting to be called coaches. The people weren't rushing or anxious, they simply...moved...like puppets on a wire, showing no fear, joy, curiosity or fatigue.

A welcome sight flitted past her frost-edged window, and she cranked open the tiny pane of glass to call out. "Professor!" she beckoned.

A few feet away and facing the opposite direction, Professor Giorgenson, decked out in his village idiot costume and puffing away at his pipe, paused in his strolling and looked around. "Hm?"

"Down here!"

Giorgenson looked down, then crouched and examined a half-dead weed with great interest. There had been a small wave of unseasonable warmth in the area, just enough to melt the thin layer of snow, and a ladybug was crawling languidly across a dark green leaf sticking out of the crusty ground. "Why hello there, Miss Ladybug," the mushroom-haired eccentric said, "what are you doing out of your nest? It's going to get cold again soon, did you know that? I did, because of the way my shoulder blades are seizing up. Blasted arthritis..."

".....behind you, Professor."

The curious man turned around and crouched at Noin's window, pulling his spectacles down a notch to look at her. "Good gravy! What enormous ladybugs they're making these days!"

Noin laughed, a rare treat, and one that always seemed to find her when Giorgenson was around. He knew it was hell living with Jeffrhyss, and liked to bring a little sunshine into her existence whenever he could, but today, she had serious issues on her mind. "I need to talk to the _professor_ right now, can you find him?" she said with a smile.

"Well, I'll certainly try, my dear." Giorgenson paused, coughed, scratched his head, and smiled, stuffing the crazy side of his personality in the closet for a short while. "What can I do for you?"

"We're leaving, and he wants me to go with him, but he won't tell me where we're going," Noin explained quickly, knowing the real professor was intelligent enough to fill in the blanks. "My...gentleman friend...won't know where to find me if I don't know myself, and that's assuming Jeffrhyss will even let me write to him anymore! Nobody wants to tell me anything, if we're leaving the country, if we're ever coming back--"

"Now, now, don't get yourself worked up," Giorgenson said in a soothing tone. "I was planning on following him anyway, so you just leave it to me. I promise I won't let you out of my sight, and if you have any secret correspondence to dispatch, well..." He mimed licking an envelope and putting it under his straw hat. "Never thought I'd be reduced to ferrying love letters, but there you are."

Noin sighed with relief. "Thank you."

"Anytime you like, Miss Ladybug," Giorgenson joked, rising creakily from his crouching position and tapping out his pipe. He looked around at the drones buzzing around with boxes and shook his head, not liking the lack of any human spark in their eyes. "I just don't know...he always does this, and it never gets him anywhere. A total exercise in futility! What he needs is a change of _vocation_, not _location_. Ah well...he wouldn't listen to me anyway. Never did, never will." He stretched his arms out lazily, gave a Noin a wink for luck, and wandered away, reciting to the deaf ears of Jeffrhyss' workers. "To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, creeps in this petty pace from day to day, to the last syllable of recorded time!...."

Noin watched him fondly, greedily soaking up as much of his quizzical ways as she could before he disappeared altogether. He had said once that he admired her for not going completely crazy in that underground bunker, and she wanted to tell him that it was partly his unpredictability that kept her sane. Love for her soldier could only help her so much, bravery in the face of inhuman control could only help her so much...what she really needed was to laugh, and the mushroom-haired man hadn't failed her yet.

**********  
  


Right after lunch, there were three carriages waiting outside, being laden down with the last of the luggage. Treize, Dorothy and Relena were in the first carriage, Otto, Quatre and Trowa sat in the second, and the housemaids occupied the third. Coaches and horses combined, the parade still wasn't as long as the front property line of Bridlewood.

After securing a few extra boxes under the seats of the second carriage, Otto could honestly declare that there wasn't one more stitch that could have fit in their hundred-foot caravan. He stepped back out onto the icy road when the last traveller exited the house with all the excitement of a prisoner being led to his execution. Relena was all smiles until the front door of the house opened, and an unwelcome tag-along popped out.

"Heero! Wait up!"

The boy stopped in his tracks and turned around, hoping for a last-minute reprieve. Duo jogged down the steps in his white chef's uniform with only his spiky brown hair to make him stand out against the snow. He had something in his arms, a bundle wrapped in a tea towel.

"I brought someone to see you," Duo said, lifting the top flap off the bundle he carried. A furry face peeped out and meowed. Shadow had made a special trip out to see Heero, and he finally had a reason to smile as he reached up and scratched her a bit behind the ear. Duo cleared his throat. "I want you to take her with you."

".....with _me?_ But she's yours..."

"No, she's ours. It says so on her little card." Duo quickly gave the kitty bundle to Heero and rubbed his arms; the cold was getting to him. "I wrote down what she likes to eat and put it inside with her catnip mousie, and her papers are in there somewhere too. I just think...you're going to need her more. I'm used to being alone, and so are you, probably, but you have, like, no coping skills because of your warped upbringing an' all. When you get lonely, just give her a cuddle and I guarantee you'll feel better. Now get in the coach before I turn into a frozen chefsicle!" Along with the gift of a small friend to take his place, he gave Heero a classic Maxwell smirk, a slice of optimist pie that the recipient was truly grateful for.

Shifting Shadow to his left arm, Heero reached into his inside coat pocket and quickly produced a little brass key with a tiny horse's head engraved into the thumbpiece. He pressed it into Duo's palm covertly, trying not to let anyone see. "That's the key to my room at the Muddy Nag. I'll keep the spare key just in case, but I want you to make use of it whenever you need to. Catherine's been paid up until April." The pair stood still for a while, exchanging whole heart-fulls of words and wishes using only their eyes. "....go on, baka, get back in the house before you freeze."

They traded grins; Heero resumed his course to the lead carriage, while Duo fled for the warmth of the manor, causing much confusion among some of the spectators. "Why's Duo going back inside?" Quatre wondered sadly. "Don't tell me he's not coming!"

Trowa shook his head in bewilderment. "I don't know what's going on. Maybe he's going to clean out the pantry and follow us or something..."

In the third carriage, Hilde plastered herself against the window, rapping on it furiously, but all she got in return was a wave and a sad smile from Duo as he slipped back inside the house. The lead carriage also has some questions bouncing around inside it before Heero completed the short walk down to the street.

"Relena, dear," Treize ventured, raising an eyebrow at his impetuous niece, "you're leaving the cook behind?"

The girl shrugged. "I can do what I want with my staff, can't I?"

Treize sighed and sat back, glancing at Dorothy, who sat on his right. _Just what my men need, that braided disaster zone bumbling around and getting in the way. It would be a pity if they had to kill him...his chocolate rum truffles were excellent._

As Heero stepped into the carriage, three pairs of eyes were magnetized to the fluffy package in his arms, but as he settled in, looked each one of them in the eye and let Shadow out of the tea towel, cuddling her with more kindness than he had shown any of them, they closed their mouths. Dorothy desperately wanted to know where he found the cat, with such soft, thick, luxurious fur as to rival Anna Maria's, but Heero didn't look in the best of moods, and pestering him just then could have proved fatal. Except for two handfuls of space where Shadow squirmed around, purring and pawing with an air of contentment, the temperature inside the lead carriage dropped about twenty degrees, its occupants freeze-dried by Heero's soulless glare.

At last, the time had come to leave the hurly-burly of London behind. Three sets of reins were given a firm snap, and three sets of hooves stirred into motion, pulling the coaches away from 145 Whittington Place. With both hands against the glass, Duo stood at the front room window and said another silent goodbye to his friend.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Thirty-Four: Separation takes its toll on Duo and Heero so much that fate must intervene, not by bringing them together, but by distracting them with peculiarities they never would have expected. Treize sends his workmen to Bridlewood, but none of them know they're being watched from within the walls; Heero's had about all he can take of pre-married life, and strikes an unusual deal with a visiting stranger to buy back his freedom._

I hope you all had a nice holiday! =^_^= Hungry for more Bridlewood? Good! Mark down January 19th for Episode 34! I gotta split, dinner's on the table! Baibai!


	34. The High Cost of Free Trade

Nothing warn-worthy in this episode, just the usual yummy goodness. =^_^=

Disclaimer: My New Year's resolution is to write a good disclaimer! ......right after I lose ten pounds, clean out my closet, buy the Brooklyn Bridge and achieve world peace. The pilots and Peacecrafts below aren't mine, and that's a crying shame.

**Suggested Font: Times New Roman**  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Thirty-Four: The High Cost of Free Trade

_"The thing that makes you exceptional, if you are at all, is inevitably that which must also make you lonely." ~Lorraine Hansberry_

January 19th, 1902

After a week-long separation, desperation and loneliness were causing Duo to run up quite an impressive tab on Bridlewood's phone bill. Once Arthur had explained Mr. Bell's invention and the infrastructure that made it work so well, and gotten him the number to the one and only phone line connecting the country estate to the rest of the world, he called Heero every single day. If the first call hadn't satiated them enough for the next twenty-four hours, Heero often called back after supper. Today's topic was the fleet of 'professional cleaners' that had just arrived, at Treize's order.

"Man, they're the weirdest bunch you ever did see," the chef gossipped, sitting at the little Chippendale table near the front hall. He was crouched up close to the receiver and slightly hunched over, as there was always the danger of someone walking past. "It started out as just four that arrived last night, demanding a hot meal each at the most ungodly hour, and they've been running around the house pretending to 'clean'...never mind the fact that not one of them brought a mop or a dustcloth or anything. Now there's about a dozen of them, and they all keep looking at me like I'm some sort of weirdo."

Many miles away in Hampshire, Heero sat in a round-fronted room where the curved wall was nothing but windows, and sunlight bounced off the freshly-fallen snow, illuminating everything very cheerfully. "Watch them if you can, but don't get too close. Anyone connected with Treize is potentially dangerous."

"Yeah, okay."

"And don't act like some trainee ninja if one of them threatens you, either. I haven't instructed you enough on combat yet."

Duo rolled his eyes and smirked. "Uh huh." He looked around for any stray 'cleaning men' who might have overheard, and went on. "I'll tell you what I've noticed already, some of them don't speak English. Trouble is, I can't figure out what they _are_ speaking, and..." Footsteps approached. "...that's right, a dozen red roses, some daisies, sprigs of green stuff, you know what I mean, and the card should read, 'Thanks for an incredible night, signed, your little gingersnap.'..." Duo craned his neck as a navy-blue-clad workman walked past and disappeared around the corner.

A sly smile crossed Heero's face. "You're welcome, Ginger," he sang.

Duo sputtered laughter into the phone. "Shut up!"

"One of them walked by?"

"Of course one of them walked by!" Duo whispered. "Hey, any one of them could be spying on me, foreign or not. As I was _saying_...I don't know what language they're speaking, but that's _all_ some of them speak while I'm in the room. It's sorta like German, but not quite. You'll just have to hear it for yourself, if you can."

Heero nodded on the other end of the line. "I've been trying to get away, but Relena keeps finding things for me to do, and she's never more than a room away to make sure I do them. There's a chance I can make it as far as the front gate in the middle of the night before she......mm....mm-hm....ten shillings on Harlequin's Gallop in the fourth race..."

Duo grinned like mad as he heard the faint clink of someone setting a cup of tea down, probably on the table right next to Heero. He waited until his own muted chuckling subsided and nearly choked on the next few words as he laughed. "If the horse doesn't win, can I keep the ten shillings?"

"Baka."

"So she bringing you tea, now?"

"No, she is _not_ bringing me tea.....this is _coffee._" A clink and a slurp crackled across the line. "Although, it's difficult to tell the difference, the way Elsie makes it."

Duo laughed, then sighed. "Well...I bet she'll be checking up on you every ten minutes now...I should probably let you go."

Nearly a full minute passed without a sound, and without either one moving to hang up the phone. "I suppose so," Heero conceded finally. Not only were their calls getting longer, but it was also taking longer to say goodbye.

"Oh, but before you return to Matrimony Headquarters for china pattern duty," Duo interjected, "do you ever get the feeling you're being watched?"

Heero stared into space with immense gravity. "Every minute of every day for twelve years...and _counting._"

"Okay, well...do you ever get the feeling that you _would_ be watched if the person or persons doing the watching thought that you'd be remotely _worth_ watching?"

"........try that again in Japanese, maybe it'll make more sense."

Again, Duo rolled his eyes, and beat his head against the wall with a flourish. "Listen to me, will ya?" he sighed. "I think Wufei's still in the house. Every time I turn around, I can feel these _eyes_ scoping the place out, but only for a second. Other times, I see this blur out of the corner of my eye, like I just missed him zipping around the corner. I dunno what he's waiting for, but I kinda wish he'd get on with it. The suspense is tying my brain in knots."

Heero thought for a moment. At no time during the past week had he seen the faintest glimpse of Wufei, and yet the rival agent had been obsessed with landing the coveted Khushrenada assignment from Lord Jeffrhyss. Why then would he hide him self eighty miles away from Treize? "I can't be sure what he's up to, but keep your distance from him."

"I think he's the one avoiding _me_, but I'll be careful."

"Good...."

".......well....guess I'd better let you go...."

"...........I suppose so....."

And so began another one of their long goodbyes.

**********  
  


Relena paced semi-patiently across the hardwood floor outside the lounge where Heero was indulging in another one of his wicked phone calls to the bookies', waiting to slap him with another 'evils of gambling' speech as soon as he emerged. _Just because he's marrying into the Peacecraft fortune, he thinks he can fritter it all away on the horses? Honestly! Well, I won't have it!_ She was all fired up for an ambush when Heero stepped out into the hall, and she was close on his heels as he walked away.

"Heero, we have to talk about this gambling habit of yours. Now, I know we're supposed to be sharing everything, but it doesn't actually start until we've been down the aisle, so it wouldn't be very polite of you to assume that I'll cover your losses anyway, because...Heero, are you listening to me? How much have you lost? Answer me!"

He was listening, but it didn't make a bit of difference to him; admitting that he was on the phone with Duo instead of placing bets would have made all the difference, but he wasn't ready to be thrown out of the girl's life just yet. He marched right up to the front door and donned his coat and boots, all the while with Relena poking him and whimpering like a lost puppy. When he wrapped a red scarf hastily around his neck, it finally dawned on her that he intended to leave the house. "Heero, where are you--"

"I'm going for a walk," he snapped gruffly. Saying goodbye to Duo always put him in a sour mood, but Relena was used to thinking that his miserable expression just meant his horse hadn't come up. Still believing that all men needed a bit of space, she stood just inside the door and let him go, but on a deeper level, she was far from content. In London, he was pleasant and charming...some of the time...but since the move, it was as if he'd had a total personality bypass, and she couldn't help wondering what had gotten into him.

At that exact point in time, speed had gotten into him, and brought along its friends, frustration and resentment, just to make it a real party. With a leather-gloved hand clutched at the front of his long black coat, he flew with long, rapid strides away from the house and into the vast grounds that made the country estate famous. When his instincts told him he was too far away to be verbally summoned, he stopped...closed his eyes...took a deep, cleansing breath...and began walking at an easy, strolling pace, feeling a little more relaxed. Like every day of the past week when he needed to escape for awhile, he had no destination.

Heero wandered aimlessly around the estate, spanning hundreds of acres filled with farmlands, rolling hills, hedgerows and little patches of forest. A glittering blanket of snow coated the landscape, and against the backdrop of a bright but overcast sky, it was difficult to tell where the earth ended and the heavens began. There didn't appear to be a soul around for miles. The absolute stillness of the place had for its only accompaniment the occasional twittering of birds and flapping of wings, turning that tiny portion of English countryside into a picturesque tableau of holy serenity.

Heero wondered why he wasn't enjoying it more.

For days after the announcement that the family would run out the winter months in the country, Duo had been so excited, so in love with the idea of having open fields to run in, fresh air to breathe, animals to track and streams to watch thawing when spring came that he could hardly talk about anything else. It seemed terribly unfair to Heero that the person who most wanted to see the country was the only one who wasn't allowed to go, and he found that he just couldn't enjoy the quiet beauty alone. As he trudged through the snow, reaching up just past his ankles, he was almost trying _not_ to appreciate his surroundings, as if to do so would be betraying Duo somehow.

_If it weren't for Relena, he could be walking with me right now. If it weren't for Treize, we could have a peaceful life without all these complications. If it weren't for Jeffrhyss, we could just leave...we have enough money to take us anywhere in the world...if it weren't for the mission. Always the mission. If it weren't for that, I'd..._

He came to a halt near a grove of fir trees. What would he do if he were free? He quite honestly couldn't answer that, for all he knew how to do was take orders; simply going for a walk was one of the few things he'd done spontaneously and independently his whole life. What would he do? Whatever Duo wanted to do, he supposed.

Suddenly, he became very interested in where he was and how far he had walked, and looking around, he was surprised to find that he had strolled almost all the way to the front gate, albeit down a very convoluted path that had burned up a good hour or more. _But still...right outside the front gate...must be wishful thinking._

He was just about to turn around and head back when a faint clattering and rustling sound touched his ears and steadily grew. Watching the front gate intently, for it was the only spot along that portion of the property line that wasn't so heavily treed that one couldn't see the road, he saw a carriage pull up and stop. It was a grand and beautiful thing, though its wheels were slightly splattered with mud from the dirt trail leading up to the front gate. The door to the carriage opened, and out stepped a young man in a green frock coat, fawn trousers and tall black boots, with a shock of tan hair and no hat for the cold. He walked up to the closed gate and looked in Heero's direction, being the only person immediately visible.

"I say!" the gentleman called out in a posh but casual voice. "Could I have a moment of your time, sir!?"

Heero thought about it, weighed a conversation with a total stranger against going back to the house, and crossed the fifty or so yards remaining between himself and the gate.

The tawny-haired gentleman smiled warmly as Heero approached, in between blowing on his gloveless hands and rubbing them together briskly. "Thank you kindly," he said with a small shiver. He was even less prepared for the weather than Heero was, without a scarf or even an overcoat. "I wondered if you could tell me if this is the Peacecrafts' estate. Have I come to the right place?"

Heero fought the impulse to simply point to the giant wrought-iron 'P' decorating the gate, but admitted to himself that it wasn't 100% conclusive evidence to an outsider. "You have."

"Oh, brilliant!" the young man chirped merrily. "Um...I know it's an awful cheek, showing up uninvited, but could I possibly have a word with her Ladyship?"

Instantly suspicious, Heero narrowed his eyes at the stranger. "May I ask why?"

Not being terribly strong-willed, the gentleman was easily intimidated and spoke very deferentially about his business. "It's rather delicate, actually...I want...I want her to explain something to me. I'll understand if she doesn't wish to see me, but if she would just tell me what I've done wrong..." The young man heaved a hopeless sigh and proceeded to shamelessly spill his guts. "I sent her a small token of my most _honourable_ affections at Christmas, and not _only_ have I received no word of either acceptance or rejection, but I now hear that she's gone and promised her hand to someone else! I don't know what to do, but I _can't_ give up on her without at least hearing from her own lips why she would do this to me!"

Heero looked away.

"It's not as if I'm unsuitable to court her Ladyship, or so I thought," the stranger rambled on. "My uncle is an earl, Granny was a duchess, and my father is an important Swiss banker with connections from here to--"

At the words 'important Swiss banker,' Heero's ears perked up, and he was struck with an interesting idea.

"--simply marvellous estate in London, with stables and a riding school, even! So it's not as though we're without means, far from it! But from what I've heard, she's betrothed to one of her _staff!_ What on earth could she be thinking!?" The poor boy was all but hysterical when he finished, or stopped long enough to catch his breath, as he struggled to fathom why he had been turned down.

Heero pressed forward, treading carefully around the man's battered ego. "This...token of your affections...was it a diamond ring?"

The young man gaped. "How did you know that?"

As the pieces of the puzzle fell rapidly into place, Heero cringed. "She _did_ receive it...but she thought it was an engagement ring...from me."

The stranger's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates, and after sputtering with rage for a few seconds, he lunged at the bars of the gate, grasping and shaking them with a cold, white-knuckled grip. "You _swine!_ Why, if I weren't a gentleman, I'd--"

"Gentleman or not, that wouldn't be the cleverest of moves," Heero warned, stone-faced. Something about the boy's glare alone put the fear of God into the stranger, and while he didn't let go of the iron bars, he calmed down considerably. "Now...there _is_ an explanation behind this, I assure you. If you'd like to have your driver come back for you this afternoon...we can talk." Heero approached the gate, and the stranger practically jumped away from it, watching as the boy unlocked it and opened it wide enough for one person to step through.

The tawny-haired youth eyed Heero with trepidation, then made a hand signal to his driver and walked through the gate. The carriage and its well-groomed horses pulled away and disappeared down the tree-covered lane. Heero led the stranger across the estate after locking the gate, but rather than take him anywhere near the house, he took him towards a cluster of cottages used by the farm workers. Along the way, they introduced each other; the young man's name was Marcus, and he had roots in England deeper and thicker than the tallest oak tree. Heero gave the stranger his name and 'occupation,' concentrating hard on precisely how much information to give away.

"Her Ladyship _has_ become...unusually attached to me, for a servant, that much I'll admit," he began, "but she's mistaken to believe I'd return her feelings. This engagement you've heard about is entirely an accident."

Marcus squinted and shook his head, having gone back to rubbing his chilled hands together. "Barking mad.....how the devil do you get engaged by _accident?_"

Heero hesitated slightly, then gave Marcus a detailed account of how he believed their gifts to Relena got switched, including what Trowa had guessed happened after a snarling fight between a certain cat and dog knocked the presents off the tree. As Marcus listened to the elaborate tale, there were still several things of which he was hardly convinced. "But for the engagement to be official, you _must_ have proposed to her! Ladies don't just slip a ring on their finger, say 'we're getting married' and start making out the guest list! That's not the way these things happen!"

Heero slowed down, and stopped. That was exactly the way it _had_ happened. He was only following orders, after all. Marcus stopped and turned around to face Heero, who shrugged. "I'm not currently in a position to disappoint her." When Marcus gave him a questioning glance not to be rivalled by anyone, Heero took him straight to the nearest cottage in the cluster and knocked on the door. A farmhand occupying the cottage opened the heavy wooden slab, recognized Heero as the future lord of the manor as he had been introduced upon his arrival, and quickly stepped aside, bowing his head reverently. Heero waved his guest inside, and after finding a secluded sitting room and shutting the door, they each took a chair at a creaky wooden table.

Heero rubbed his chin, pondering, then looked up at Marcus. "Just how important is your father?"

Marcus sat straight up in his chair and beamed proudly. "He's a top executive at one of the most prestigious Swiss banks, I assure you! And he doesn't just deal in cash, but gemstones, precious metals, commodities...that's where I got that ring in the first place, although I never meant it to be a promise of marriage, certainly not." He propped his chin up with one elbow and stared into space.

Slowly, Heero clasped his hands together and nodded. "Miss Relena's uncle--"

"I mean, if I were to get someone an engagement ring, it wouldn't be a diamond anyway! Diamonds are so common nowadays, everybody's got one! No, I'd give an emerald for that purpose, they're much more precious in my eyes."

Heero raised an eyebrow, let a few seconds pass, and continued. "Her uncle is under investiga--"

"Is that what she would have done to me if she knew the ring was mine? Assume we were getting married? I intended nothing of the sort! Not that marrying her would be _completely_ out of the question, but one naturally expects that two people would want to get to know each other first! I'm all for social order, but you can only take the concept of arranged marriage so far before it's no longer viable and productive, as my father would say!" Marcus paused at last, ever so slowly looked back across the table at Heero, and was met with a sharp, burning glare.

"Have you finished?"

Marcus blushed. "...sorry...I do tend to run off at the mouth a bit. Pray continue."

Heero set his jaw and readjusted himself in his chair before taking the lad up on his dubious offer. "What I'm about to tell you must stay between us, and you will _not_ tell anyone anything that you hear in this room, especially not Miss Relena. I've been living as her butler for several months, but it's not my real profession. I was dispatched to investigate her uncle, the Count, which made it necessary to take a domestic position in the house. For security reasons, I have to stay close to both of them while reporting back to my superiors, which is why I've let her believe that this engagement is genuine."

Marcus bulged about the eyeballs again, and gripped the tabletop. He swallowed. "Bloody 'ell..."

Heero's eyebrows flew off his face. The stranger may have professed to be wealthy beyond anyone's wildest dreams, but on some other level, he was common as muck and proud of it.

Marcus cleared his throat and composed himself, whipping out a handkerchief and daubing his forehead with it. "My apologies, sir, I don't know what came over me," he said. "So, what's he being investigated for, this fellow?"

Heero blinked, then steeled his features into a stony mask. "It's classified. I couldn't tell you even if I wan--"

"Are you from Scotland Yard?" Marcus asked, leaning forward excitedly. "Ministry of Defence? United States Secret Service? You _do_ sound awfully American, if you don't mind my mentioning it."

Again Heero glared, but with wide-eyed confusion at the assault of questions. "It doesn't _matter_ who sent me. The point is--"

"But how do I know you're _really_ a representative of the authorities and not just an extremely clever con man?" Marcus interrupted yet again. He slapped the table and held out an upturned palm to Heero, glancing away haughtily and waggling his fingers. "Come on. Let's see some I.D."

At this point, the only thing keeping Heero from reaching across the table and tearing out the man's throat was that his chatterbox ways vaguely reminded him of Duo, but it wouldn't protect him indefinitely. Heero very calmly folded his hands, and with a tiny smile that held back enough rage to divide between ten Dobermans with some to spare, made his case in a sweetly sing-song voice. "If I'm a secret agent, and if I'm carrying papers identifying me as a secret agent, and if I can't stay awake every hour of every day in a house full of people, it won't be a secret for very long, will it?"

Marcus wilted under the force of Heero's maniacal smile, and shrank back in his chair. "...you might have a point there." Heero brought a finger to his lips, and Marcus took the hint, nodding quickly and lowering his eyes respectfully.

"We both want something," Heero resumed slowly. "I want to continue my work as instructed, and I can't do that if I break off the engagement, because her Ladyship obviously wouldn't want me around in such a case. You want a chance to court Relena, and I'm clearly in the way."

Marcus folded his arms and scowled slightly. "So it would seem."

"There may be a way we can help each other," Heero suggested, and the stranger's expression brightened. Concentrating on something buried deep in his memory, Heero took a notebook out of his inside coat pocket, and then his trusty experimental retractable pen, and wrote down a series of numbers. He tore out the tiny page and handed it to Marcus. "What do you make of that?"

The tawny-haired youth looked over the numbers and dashes, and seemed to understand them. "It _could_ be a bank account number...I've seen a lot of numbers like this in my time."

"Might it be something your father could interpret?"

Marcus squinted. "I'm not sure I follow."

"I discovered that number in the pocket of the Count's dressing gown, and I've been to every bank from here to Wales and not one of them could identify it as belonging to them. If Relena's uncle has a Swiss bank account, I need to know what's in it. Fluid assets, stock holdings, safety deposit boxes, everything."

"Oh.....oh, I don't know about that," Marcus worried audibly. "It might not be from my father's bank at all...and still, customer confidentiality..."

Heero cleared his throat and leaned forward on his elbows. "The sooner I get my information, the sooner I'll be out of the picture, and the sooner _you'll_ have to comfort Relena over her broken engagement."

Marcus' eyes took on an almost ravenous gleam, and he smoothed out the piece of paper lovingly, his golden ticket to an afternoon of tea and sympathy with his dream girl. Customer confidentiality be damned! He knew he could get anything he wanted out of his father, even if it meant bending the law, and get it he would! "I'll do it."

The boys rose and shook hands, exchanging crafty smiles. Marcus thanked Heero profusely and left the cottage in a jubilant mood, eagerly saying he'd show himself to the front gate. Heero sat back down at the sitting room table, put his head down on his folded hands, and exhaled with a long, frustrated groan. _What a total idiot,_ he thought. _They're perfect for each other._

**********  
  


While they waited for their afternoon tea, Relena continued to give Dorothy the grand tour of the country estate. It was a sprawling two-storey mansion, lavishly decorated in French Rococo and filled with artistic treasures from all over the world. There was hardly a square inch of wall space anywhere in the building left unornamented, as befitted the styles of the 1700's when it was crafted out of marble, stone, and exotic woods. Not only were the rooms more numerous than at Bridlewood, but most were at least twice as big and five times as detailed, with richly coloured frescoes on the 14-foot ceiling, gilded wallpaper and regal-looking plaster mouldings on the walls, and rugs of the most intricate and beautiful designs that still managed to look new like the day they left the Orient. There was so much to see in each room that the grand tour was only half done, even though the girls nibbled away at it each day.

"And _this_," Relena said, stepping through a pair of heavy gold and white doors with dramatic flair, "is the ballroom."

Dorothy inhaled sharply at the magnificent sight. It was absolutely cavernous, and made Bridlewood's ballroom look like a pool cabana. Five massive chandeliers were suspended from well-secured golden ropes, indicating that they still needed to be raised and lowered by hand, for the purpose of lighting the candles. The south wall was a mass of windows with a few doors leading out onto an extensive patio, and the well-polished floor made even the indirect sunlight all but blinding. Dorothy averted her eyes safely to the chandeliers. "I'm surprised you haven't converted this place over to electricity as well."

"I think that in a lovely old house like this, one can go too far with the modern conveniences," Relena said, strolling around the room languidly. "Some things, I'm glad we changed, like adding an icebox to the kitchen, and modernizing the bathrooms..." She came to a slow stop and folded her hands, looking out the window at nothing. "...but I'm starting to regret having a telephone."

"What do you mean?" Dorothy asked.

Relena sighed and pouted in her usual way. "It's Heero and Uncle Treize. One of them is _always_ on the telephone! If we had two, I'd never see either of them! I can't drag Uncle Treize away from it, even for a game of cards, because he always has a _business_ call to make, and I can hardly spend time with Heero because he's forever on that thing, placing bets on horses! I can tell he's losing all the time, too, because he's always in a rotten mood once he finally gets off the line. If you ask me, we'd be a much happier family if we just got rid of it."

"Well, I know better than to say I told you so, but I can't say I'm surprised about Heero," Dorothy sneered. "Common is as common does, dear, that's all there is to it."

Relena frowned. "Do you want the rest of your tour or don't you?"

The Baroness covered her mouth with one hand and did little else to mask a jeering giggle, but finally curtsied a respectful apology to her Ladyship, and they were on their way again. Relena, fully back to playing the tour guide within a matter of seconds, led her guest in the opposite direction from the round-fronted lounge where the telephone resided.

She was quite right in suspecting the device would be occupied, for at that very moment, Treize was making another one of his furtive 'business' calls, long-distance. He kept a close eye on the door as he spoke into the receiver in low, deep tones. "Peacecraft is his name. A captain in the army, recently promoted, fair hair and blue eyes. I want him...taken care of as soon as possible."

Just then, Heero returned from his lengthier-than-expected walk, removed his outerwear, and walked slowly and numbly towards the same lounge. He needed to talk to Duo. He needed to hear the relaxing buzz of Duo talking in his direction, chattering a mile a minute like he used to do. He needed to cancel out each and every one of Marcus' inane words with an equal or greater number of Duo's. Then maybe he'd get around to telling him about the deal they struck...

As Heero closed in on the lounge, Treize kept talking to his long-distance contact, unaware of what was stalking down the hall at a steady pace. "Well, if our closest man is in India, it'll have to be him, then. You have my authorization to furnish whatever weapons necessary to the enemy, but you make _absolutely_ sure that Captain Peacecraft loses his next major battle.....and have our man make an accurate count of all British casualties, for the recording of my feats. It may be of interest to someone later on..."

It was during a pause in Treize's conversation that Heero bounded around the corner and stopped just two feet inside the room. The boy looked genuinely surprised to see Treize there, and the Count scrutinized the young intruder's expression for any signs that he had been listening to the private call from the beginning. Indeed, he had not, and was so wrapped up in wanting to hear Duo's voice that he didn't even notice the husky baritone coming from that room until it was too late. Heero backed out the door, an inch at a time, never breaking the bi-directional stare in which he had become trapped, and finally walked away.

Treize glared at the empty space where the boy had stood for a long time. ".....yes, I'm still here. No, a telegram will do, but send it right away." The Count ended his tele-meeting quickly, before anyone else decided to barge in on him.

Heero really didn't feel like following up on the odd encounter anyway, so Treize needn't have worried; the boy felt he'd done more than enough for one day, even though it still had a good eight hours left to run, but what to do next was a problem. Serving tea was out, because he was no longer on the payroll. Hanging around the kitchen was out, because there was nobody there he particularly felt like talking to. Spying on Treize was out because he just didn't feel like it, though he didn't quite know why. He was out of ideas, and so retreated to his room.

Shadow was waiting patiently for him, in the bedroom Relena had let him pick out from a very extensive collection of architectural marvels. It was one of the smallest rooms in the house, but it still reflected the overall grandeur of the mansion. Heero wasn't sure why he wanted that room above the others, although being fifty yards away from Relena's room was a definite plus. As he walked inside, picking up Shadow when she scampered across the rug to greet him, he studied the room's central feature, a massive curtained bed made of rich dark wood, like something out of Dickens' Christmas Carol...and then it came to him in a flash.

He liked the bed curtains. They were of an exquisite purple velvet, soft and clean from being well taken care of by the local staff. The deep violet colour he found most enticing, and he couldn't recall ever liking something for purely trivial reasons such as colour and texture before. The curtains reminded him of something, but he couldn't think what.

Heero looked out the window and instantly calculated the number of minutes left before dusk, according to the position of the sun. Before he knew what he was doing, he'd picked up a random book off a nearby shelf, one from the gilt-edged Kipling collection that Duo had given him, kicked off his shoes and curled up on the bed, with Shadow cuddled against his shoulder and the book propped up against his knees. Flipping through the first few pages, he came across the title--'The City of Dreadful Night.'

_.......dreadful night....._

"Mew," Shadow squeaked hopefully, putting a paw on Heero's cheek.

Heero glanced down and managed a small smile for the little cat, scratching her neck and feeling a bit better for it. "These really would be dreadful nights without you to talk to...not that I'd _want_ anyone else in here to see me talking to a cat..." Shadow wasn't insulted by the remark, and purred to prove it. Heero took a long look at the opulence and splendour surrounding them and sighed to himself. "Ah well...if you're going to go crazy and talk to the animals, you might as well do it in style."

The pair nestled snugly into the pillows and began reading, if only to catch a few moments' solace before they were called down for dinner. No house was big enough to help them hide from hunger.

**********  
  


That tingly feeling at the back of Duo's neck stayed with him all day. He was more than positive that Wufei was skittering around inside the walls, and he was torn between needing to put four thin but solid walls around him for protection, and desperately wanting to know what the Chinese boy was up to. In the end, however, reason was victorious, and as soon as the workers had left for the night, he gathered up everything he had and went looking for something more secure in the way of a bedroom.

Wanting to make the move from the attic to finer quarters, he discovered a clever way to do it in one trip. First, he scouted out a nice, unused guestroom on the second floor, one with absolutely no secret passages around it, according to the blueprints. Next, he went to the attic and put on every piece of clothing he had, all at once; he could only take baby steps after that, but it left him with an empty carpet bag that was sufficient to carry the rest of his belongings. A little discomfort was worth it to make sure Wufei didn't decide to switch tactics and hide himself in Duo's new digs while he was carting boxes back and forth. That simply wouldn't do. _I'm so smart, I amaze even me._

Duo crept down the servants' stairs with his beloved blanket draped over his shoulder, forced to pay exquisite attention to every squeak and creak along the way. _Gee...it's kinda spooky, being in this big place all by myself. Well, okay, I'm not really by myself...but knowing Wufei's in here somewhere, watching me...makes it a lot spookier, come to think of it. S'like being in a haunted house where the ghost ain't quite dead yet._

Duo reached his new room and shut the door firmly behind him. He took off his excess clothing, then looked in the wardrobe, looked under the bed, looked behind the writing desk, and knocked on all the walls before he was satisfied that there was no one in the room with him. To make sure things stayed that way, he shoved a tall chest of drawers in front of the door, impressed with how strong he'd become in the past several weeks.

_I know who I've got to thank for that,_ he thought, rubbing his arms and smiling faintly. Mechanically, he changed into his black pajamas as usual, but somehow he wasn't expecting any better a night's sleep than he'd had all week long. Another bleak night spent cold and alone was nothing to look forward to. _Still...I'm tough...I was alone for years before now...I can handle this..._

He turned out the light and climbed into bed, scrunching the plaid woolen blanket around him under the covers, and was dismayed that the already-faded scent it carried, a mixture of cinnamon, sugar, and Heero, from the night they snuck downstairs at 3am to make frosted cinnamon rolls, was all but gone. There was nothing left except his imagination to delude himself with that he wasn't alone, and he unconsciously pulled a pillow close to his chest and wrapped his arms around it tightly. _I can handle this. Only nine hours and seventeen minutes until sunrise._

You'd never know this room had heat, 'cause I'm freezing!

Nine hours and sixteen minutes...

I wonder if Heero's missing me like I'm missing him.

Nine hours and fifteen minutes...

I can handle this...

Nine hours and fourteen minutes...

.....Heero......I'm cold.....

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Thirty-Five: Treize escapes back to Bridlewood, but Heero is unable to follow, due to Relena's increasingly demanding nature. Duo must be trusted to monitor the Count's activities, but he's already got a full plate dealing with a creeping menace in the walls. What is Wufei's master plan?_

*sniffle* My poor darlings! :( Dangit, now I've made myself sad on a Saturday night. This calls for a night out. =^_^= *puts on her dancin' shoes* Oh yeah, I've listed A.G. Bell as the inventor of the telephone, despite modern-day speculation that he wasn't the first to string two coffee cans together from one treehouse to another, but as far as the people of 1902 were concerned, he made it to the patent office on time, so he's going to get credit in this episode. Count on Episode 35 for January 27th. Ja ne! =^_~=


	35. Golddiggers

Watch out, folks....here comes a whopper.

**Disclaimer:** It's lucky for the people that run the Super Bowl that I don't own a complete set of Gundams and pilots, etc., because there isn't a football field big enough in the whole world to hold the game I'd want them to play. =^-^= Down! Set! HUT! *massive explosions*

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Thirty-Five: Golddiggers

_"For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil." ~Bible, 1 Timothy 6:10a_

January 27th, 1902

There was a sparkling mauve sky overhead, peppered with the glitter of thousands of stars, though it was nearly bright enough to be daytime. Walls appeared on every side made of neatly cropped shrubbery, inconsistently eight feet tall and fencing in the grassy ground that pitched and rolled like a sailboat shooting rapids. In all directions, there was colour...sage, violet, blue and gold...a pleasant shock to Heero's senses.

Behind him, someone laughed. He was suddenly facing the opposite direction without moving, and a flutter of chestnut with golden highlights flew past his eyes. Heero followed the twisting, shimmering rope and soon recognized the place he was in--the hedge maze in the back garden outside Bridlewood--as well as the person running away from him. It was definitely Duo, but he could only catch tiny glimpses of the boy's face as he darted through the leafy labyrinth, tossing seductive smiles over his shoulder as he laughed.

In the logic center of Heero's brain, the scene made no sense and perfect sense all at once, but he didn't care. He ran eagerly after his quarry, not knowing why Duo laughed so, or why he was leading Heero on such a merry chase. They ran and ran, many times farther than the real hedge maze should have lasted. A warm summer breeze swirled into Heero's ears, blending with chirping birds and cascades of beautiful laughter, urging him forward, faster and faster, until he skidded to a halt, surrounded by shrubs with no escape. A dead end.

A twig snapped behind him and he turned around. Duo slowly peeked around the corner; the prey had its own hunter cleverly trapped. Duo smiled again, and the leaves and grass turned a bright chartreuse, while the sky turned the deepest shade of violet, and shooting stars rained down on them both. There was no place so beautiful in all the universe.

"Heeeeero..." A high-pitched voice punctured the heavens, out of sync and strangely lacking in the ethereal quality of Heero's environment. Suddenly, he felt a burning scratch across his cheek, and the vision was shattered.

He woke up.

"You're not going to sleep the whole day away, are you?" the honeyed voice continued. Heero felt a fingernail being dragged lightly up and down the side of his face. He looked up immediately and saw Relena, leaning over him...on his bed...in his pajamas...unarmed and trapped like a rat. Upon making eye contact with his captor, he gurgled groggily in shock and scooted away, pulling the blanket up to his throat. Relena thought that this was simply charming, and giggled. "Sleep well?"

_Yes, until you came in._ "Fine, thank you."

"Good, because we've got a busy day ahead of us!" Relena bounced boldly onto the bed and sat back on her ankles, producing an opened letter from the pocket of her skirt. Heero propped himself up and rubbed his eyes, clutching vainly at the fading remnants of his dream. It was so beautiful...and now it was gone...

"We got a letter this morning from the Hursley Hambledon Hunt Society," the girl chattered excitedly. "The estate they normally use for their spring hunt can't host it this year, because of a stone bridge that collapsed into a creek. The repairs won't be finished in time, since the owner wants another bridge imported brick by brick from Scotland. I think it's very wise of them to stick to traditional materials, don't you?" Heero yawned. "Well, the committee wrote to ask me if they could use _our_ grounds for the hunt, and that would also mean that _we'd_ get to host the hunt ball! Wouldn't that be fabulous!? Anyway, to make a long story short..."

_Too late,_ Heero thought.

"...I thought this might be something nice that we could do together--plan out the hunt ball! The committee will furnish us with the addresses of the regular guests, and they're letting us invite whomever else we want, so long as they'll fit in the ballroom, and you know our ballroom's _huge_! Inviting our own guests is an unusual privilege, but since it's such short notice, I think it's a nice way for them to make up for the inconvenience. Now, I know you're not terribly enthusiastic when it comes to social events, but I could really use your help, since Uncle Treize is gone for the day, and Dorothy will be planning out the decora--"

"Wait a minute," Heero interrupted. Nothing in her tirade had been of any interest except that last remark. "Where's Treize?"

Relena squinted unpleasantly as Heero referred to her uncle in the familiar. "He...went back to London this morning. I asked him if I should get you out of bed to say goodbye, but he told me not to wake you."

Heero made the leap to near-total wakefulness before she even finished speaking, and glared straight ahead, cursing himself for oversleeping. If it weren't for the presence of a lady, he would surely have leapt out of bed and thrown his clothes on, uttering vile phrases in the direction of the clock. Even without looking at it, he could tell it was terribly late by the brightness of the room. How could he be so careless?

Relena got up off the bed and smoothed out the covers where she had perched. "Anyway, he knows I'm perfectly capable of running the house and organizing a little country ball. Now, get up, get dressed, and I'll have Elsie fix your breakfast. We're going to have so much fun today!" With a primal squeal used by enterprising women for generations, she gave her beloved a sweet smile and slipped out. As soon as she was safely gone, Heero went back to his original plan of jumping out of bed and tossing on the first clean outfit that came to hand, then looked at the clock and felt dizzy at the sight of 10:30 being displayed by the golden hands. He'd never gotten up so late in his life.

_There's no way I can catch Treize now!_ he thought angrily. _How could this happen!? All I can do now is call Duo and warn him..._ His first conscious thought of Duo brought back the memory of the faded dream. _Is that why I overslept? It was beautiful...perhaps I didn't want to wake up. I remember...not being able to sleep, late last night...and then that dream.....my efficiency is down. Something must be getting to me._ While he pondered what on earth could be wrong with him, he glanced around the room and just happened to notice that something was missing. ".....Shadow?"

The little grey cat slept wherever she liked, and that was usually on top of the covers--sometimes on top of Heero--and always went downstairs with him to the kitchen for her breakfast, but that morning she appeared to be gone. Acting on a hunch, Heero crouched down on all fours and peered under the bed. Two shiny turquoise eyes twinkled back at him nervously.

He sighed. "It's alright, she's gone now." With a gentle tug and a bit of coaxing, Shadow crawled back into the light of day, and into the safety of Heero's arms. It had not escaped his attention that she didn't particularly care for Relena, or her habit of barging into their room unannounced and uninvited. Either that, or she could smell Frederick on her. He tried to be a comfort to his kitty as they made the long walk to the kitchen, for Elsie would never consent to room service for the likes of him. After leaving Shadow to Trowa's expert care, he gobbled down half a plate of mediocre food while quickly formulating plan 'B'.

The risks were enormous, but there was no alternative. He would have to try to call Duo. If Treize was already there, at the very least, he could maintain contact with his assistant for hourly updates. On the other hand, if Relena caught him on the phone again, it would mean instant death. Silently, he crept into the lounge, expecting the worst.

Still slightly foggy from his extended layover in dreamland, he made a grab for the pocketwatch that wasn't there, remembering with a wince that he had loaned it to Pegan weeks ago. Fortunately, another timepiece rested on the mantle, and he saw that it was nearly eleven. _Far too late,_ he thought, _if Treize left early enough, he could be there by now._ Pushing aside his stray regrets, he lifted the receiver and whispered to the operator, who connected him at once to Bridlewood. Three rings went by, then four. Between rings five and six, he was starting to worry, but to his relief, someone finally picked up in the middle of ring number seven.

"Czesc!" the someone said.

Heero double-blinked. That didn't sound right. "Hello?"

"Przepraszam?" the person asked in a puzzled voice.

"Who is this!?" Heero barked.

"Nie rozumiem."

Heero sighed into the phone. It had to be one of Treize's flunkies on the other end, and the Count had apparently lucked out and chosen workers who spoke a language Heero was unfamiliar with. The accent was eastern European, but that was all he could tell. A thousand fresh worries invaded his mind. Had Duo been forced out of the house? Had he been captured? Or had he just popped down to the shops because he was running low on nutmeg?

"Czesc? Hallo?" the foreign voice begged.

_Should I try one of my other languages just in case? No, I'd almost certainly be giving myself away. He would have told them to expect that...but I have to find out what's going on..._

"Heero!"

Startled, he slammed the phone down and pivoted around, only to see a rather irate Relena standing in the doorway. His last thoughts before she stormed up to him and slapped his hand away from the device were whether or not he was too young to join the French Foreign Legion.

"You just can't keep yourself away from this thing, _can_ you!?" she bellowed. "Well, we're going to have a nice _quiet_ day together planning the ball, and then we'll go back over the wedding preparations, and I don't want this _offensive_ piece of technology disturbing us any more than it _has_ done!" With that, and to the boy's extreme horror, she grabbed the telephone cord and savagely ripped it out of the wall. Afterwards, she smoothed out her hair and laced her fingers together in a very ladylike fashion, while Heero gaped. "Now, let's get started shall we?"

When he didn't quite move fast enough for her liking, she folded her arms and glared a highly impressive glare. As Heero turned in defeat and shuffled out of the lounge, he could swear that he heard, in the back of his mind, a lone trumpeter, mournfully sounding out the first few notes of 'La Marseillaise', gently.

**********  
  


At first, Duo's natural reaction to the overturned apple cart that blocked the path of his cab back to Bridlewood was one of slight frustration, but he soon overcame it by getting out and walking the last few blocks. He'd been out running errands all morning, since he no longer felt needed in his own kitchen; the blue-clad workmen had rejected his fine cooking and were fixing all their own meals now, most of which smelled decidedly strange. In his travels that morning, he took some books to Pegan in the sanitarium from Bridlewood's library, and had swung by the Muddy Nag to pick up the blueprints from their hiding place. The chef had endured too many nights listening to every creak and thump and wondering if it was Wufei, and while he hadn't worked out the fine details, he felt that having the blueprints with him might buy him some sleep somehow.

With the rolled-up sheaf of papers tucked under one arm and his tweed cap held on with the other, he struggled against the wind as he turned the corner onto Whittington Place, but was greeted by an unexpected sight. There was a carriage in front of the house, and an unfamiliar coachman was just hopping down to open the door for his passenger. Duo slowed down a bit. A tall auburn-haired man stepped out, and the chef ducked behind a neighbour's hedge even before he recognized the man as Treize. _Ohhhh geez..._

One of the workmen emerged from the house and jogged down to the carriage. Treize conversed with him openly, and while Duo was too far away to hear them, he guessed that he wouldn't have understood a word they said anyway. Something disconcerting happened just then; while he was being observed, Treize seemed to ask the man a question while dragging one hand down from the back of his head through three feet of empty space, while making a zig-zag motion with his other hand, as if illustrating something.

_Mmm. Probably best if I ignore the fact that he appears to be describing my hair. Purely a coincidence._

The worker nodded and held one hand several feet off the ground questioningly, and added a spiral motion pointed at his head, the international sign for raving loonies. Treize nodded back.

_...and they've just accurately described my height and overall demeanor, too. Still, doesn't mean anything._

The Count spoke a few words more and made a slashing gesture across his throat.

_Wuh-oh. That ain't good._

After a hearty chuckle at the curbside, the pair went into the house, and the coachman drove off down the street, prompting Duo to duck further down behind the hedge as the carriage went past. Suddenly, walking in through the front door no longer seemed like a good idea, and he strolled nonchalantly back the way he came, turning at the first corner and heading for the parklands directly behind the manor. It was well past lunch by then, but his stomach wasn't complaining; he hadn't had much of an appetite for the last couple of weeks, and actually had to force himself to eat from time to time out of fear for his muscle tone. Food was still the farthest thing from his mind as he hiked as casually as he could through the park, right up to the six-foot brick wall that separated him from Arthur's cottage, marking the back property line. A new plan was needed.

_I've got to get inside...but then what? I can't take on all of them at once, not if they're out to get me...but I need the rest of my stuff, and...well, if Heero was coming to watch Treize, he would've been here by now, clinging to the underside of the carriage, most likely. If he's not here, something must've gone wrong and he couldn't make it._

He sat down on the frozen ground behind the wall and took a moment to assess the condition of the blueprints; they had survived the wild trek around the neighbourhood splendidly. _I need help. I need an ally...I know I can trust Arthur, but he's not as young and agile as I need him to be. There's got to be someone else..._

**********  
  


Wufei watched the Count's arrival from the front attic window and smiled to himself. Creeping out from his hiding place for some fresh air and a stretch had been well worthwhile. _The civilians are gone, the stage is set, and the rat just wandered innocently into the trap. It's been far too long a wait for this...too many years...my time is now, Lord Treize...and your time is ending._

Once his target had gone inside, there was no further purpose in standing at the window, and so Wufei began inching down the servants' stairwell on his way to the drawing room. As yet, he still hadn't decided what to do with the Count. A quick death seemed too good for him, and yet Wufei didn't want to draw a great deal of blood and ruin the nice carpet he'd picked out. Assured that inspiration would strike at the appropriate moment, he skulked slowly through the house, pausing here and there to avoid Treize's lackeys along the way. It seemed like an eternity to him, but he finally reached the safety of his cave, and after a couple of quick clicks of the hidden wall switch, he slipped inside to await his prey.

He stood on the other side of the drawing room wall and slid open a tiny panel, unnoticed by everyone, even Heero, through which he could observe the goings-on a few feet away without revealing his hiding place. It was twenty minutes or more before Treize appeared, but he was called back out into the hall before he was halfway through the door. Wufei swore in Chinese under his breath. "Get back here, you coward," he hissed.

"Why don't you try a dog whistle?" a sarcastic, velvety tenor crooned from Wufei's left. The boy spun around, instinctively drawing a dagger from somewhere in his blue-sleeveless-shirt-and-white-pants ensemble, and his eyes bulged as a match flared in the darkness, spookily illuminating a grinning, cherub-like face. "Love what you've done with the place. Real homey."

"Baichi!" Wufei whispered angrily, unintelligible to Duo, but unmistakably an insult. He slapped the peephole panel shut, lest the light give them both away, and dropped into a defensive crouch, knowing the intruder could have picked up any weapon out of his beloved arsenal to attack with. "How did you get in here?!"

"Same way you did," Duo said, lighting a lantern and standing it beside him. He was sitting cross-legged on the raised floor of the niche in his brown tweed suit, at the opposite end from Wufei's sleeping pallet. There was a rolled up sheaf of papers lying next to him. "Since we're both here, and there doesn't seem to be any other form of entertainment in this hole of yours, have you got a minute?"

Wufei smiled wickedly. "_I've_ got a minute. _You_ have significantly _less_ than a minute." He had already counted his knives, swords, and other assorted weaponry, found that none were missing, and waved the dagger at Duo with renewed confidence.

"Now, now, there's no reason to take that attitude," Duo chided sweetly, "especially when talking to someone who's got what I've got..." He picked up the bundle of papers and slowly unrolled it, teasingly, with a sugary smile.

Wufei frowned and raised an eyebrow, half wanting to wipe that smile off Duo's face, and half burning with curiosity. "What?"

Duo made an 'oooh' face and held up his treasure. "What's this, you ask? What have I got in my weathered yet graceful little hands? Why, hot diggity dog, it's the plans to the house!" His grin grew as the Chinese boy's face fell in slight fear. "Boy, I'll bet Treize would _love_ to see these, wouldn't he? All those little gaps in the walls where something or _someone_ might be hiding...and I've got the blueprints he'd need to find every last one. Gee, I'd hate to be you when I hand these over to him in exchange for getting out of the house alive..."

"You wouldn't."

"I would, if I had to."

"...what do you want?"

Duo smiled and put the blueprints down, standing up to talk to Wufei without pulling a neck muscle. "I'm in a bit of a jam, as it happens," he began. "Count Iron Drawers has his goons searching the house for me, among other things...can't think why, but he seems to want my head on a platter. Go fig." There was an uncomfortable silence during which he knew what Wufei was thinking; he cleared his throat. "The thing is, I need to keep a lookout for the guy, in Heero's absence, but I don't wanna get caught either...so I could use some help."

Wufei thought it over. "Or I could just kill you now and _take_ those blueprints from you."

Duo stuck an angry finger in the boy's immediate airspace as a warning. "Hey, if I get so much as a _papercut_ from you and Heero finds out about it, you're gonna end up a strange blue and white smear on the drawing room ceiling! Pilgrims will flock here from miles around to see the big, sticky vision of the Virgin Mary that appeared suddenly one night after a heated argument between the butler and the decorator, who hasn't been heard from since!"

"Lower your voice, you fool, before someone hears us!" Wufei whispered with fury.

"You lower _your_ voice!" Duo countered. "You were gonna stab me a minute ago! Didn't you think that would've made _enough_ noise!?"

"I mean it, you blithering idiot! Shut your mouth!"

"Whoa, you have _no_ right to call me an idiot! That's a privilege afforded to Heero Yuy and no one else, you color blind hack!"

That was it. Impoliteness and death threats could be tolerated; knocking his decorating skills, well...the line had to be drawn somewhere. The dagger was dropped on the pallet, and the fists came out in a cramped, clumsy deathmatch of karate versus kung fu, but after about thirty seconds of it, form and sophistication went out the window, and it became a battle of headlocks. In between the muffled grunts and squeaks of pain, there came a tiny 'clink' from the floor, and Duo froze. Not knowing why his opponent had suddenly given up and was staring at his shoes, Wufei froze as well.

"Shoot!" Duo exclaimed, shoving Wufei off him with surprising strength. The chef dropped on his hands and knees and began frantically searching for something, repeating 'oh no' over and over again.

Curiosity got the better of Wufei a second time, and he let his guard down. "What now?"

"My key! It must've fallen out of my pocket just now...dammit!" It was the key Heero had given him the day he left, the key to his room at the Muddy Nag. He couldn't afford to lose it, especially not now, and there was a good six inches of space below him for it to be lost in. Why the builders had put raised floors in the wall niches at all was beyond him, though he remembered nearly tripping over it the first time he crawled inside.

Not more than two feet away, Wufei began to show his frustration. "Do you intend to get up and finish this fight like a man?"

"Shut up! I _need_ that key!" Duo felt around on the floor several feet in all directions before noticing something was horribly wrong with it. "Oh man...the floorboards aren't seamed up properly...there's big cracks in between the wood! It must have fallen straight through!"

Panicking, he tried to wedge his fingers into the gap; when that didn't work, he took off his shoe and tried to jam the toe into the largest crack, to no success. To Wufei, a battle without a resolution was one definite kind of hell, but watching someone do something so badly when he knew he could do better was a different hell altogether. He peeked out the peephole briefly, just to make sure there was no one around to hear, grabbed a crowbar from his haphazard toolkit and knelt beside Duo with a frustrated sigh. "If you're going to jimmy something open, for pity's sake, do it properly!"

Duo grinned and grabbed the metal bar below Wufei's hands, and they slotted the narrow end into the gap between the floorboards. Making much better use of their brute strength, the pair pried at the aging timbers, hoping the ugly sound of wood cracking and splintering couldn't be heard below them. With all four hands, they repositioned the bar farther underneath the board and used all of their weight to lever it up, taking with it corroded nails and cobweb fragments with a hollow knocking noise, but an extra sound they hadn't expected made them pause with the end of the board just an inch or two out of the floor--the sound of cloth tearing.

The boys blinked at each other. Confused, they wedged the bar laterally under the floorboard and pulled it back hard, lifting the end just enough for Duo to snake his hand underneath and feel what they had ripped. There was some rough burlap under the boards, and the crowbar had torn a sizeable hole in it. Duo tucked his fingers into the hole and felt something else that was definitely _not_ burlap, something cold, hard, and smooth, with curious ridges in its surface. He blinked again, and looked up.

"Hey...there's something down there."

Wufei reached over and grabbed the lantern, and set it next to Duo, who struggled with the aging timbers, trying to get a look at the peculiar object. Between the two of them, they managed to exert enough force on the floorboard to pry it all the way free, and it came away with a loud 'thok.' Duo reached out to widen the hole in the burlap, and both boys gasped at what lay underneath.

There, neatly stacked and lined up perfectly end-to-end, were some flat bars of factory-milled metal. Each one was about two inches wide and less than five inches long, and each bore the numbers '.9999' and '1000g', as well as some other mill marks and official-looking crests permanently etched into the smooth, glossy surface. They shone like the sun, brilliant and blinding.

".........._gold!_" Duo breathed, and suddenly it all became clear...the purpose behind the wall niches, the reason Treize came to England, perhaps even the cause of Lord Peacecraft's untimely death. The boys quickly tore the rest of the burlap away, exposing even more bars, and Duo was sure, without anyone's help, that his deduction was correct. "This is what he's looking for. He killed Relena's father so he could get control of this house and tear it apart until--"

"Treize has already killed for this gold?" Wufei asked solemnly. There was a rapid change in his demeanor, as if he'd been pricked with a pin and deflated by force.

Duo nodded. "Heero has proof. Lord Peacecraft was poisoned, and we know Treize did it."

Wufei's spirit was dragged into the cellar as he stared with misery and revulsion at the shiny yellow bars. He crawled backwards as if in a trance, barely missing cutting himself on the dropped dagger as he retreated to his pallet and curled up into a loose ball. _It's all happening again...more blood has been spilled for gold, and I couldn't stop it...I didn't even know..._ Resurgent memories pummelled him from within. He heard a train, clattering down a lonely track towards unforeseen doom...an explosion...the crunching of metal and the screams of the innocent. He squinted in agony and withdrew even father into the corner, clenching his arms about himself. _...all happening again..._

"Hey...are you okay?" Duo said, crawling over to the pallet with genuine concern.

It took a prod to the shoulder for Wufei to come back to reality. Immediately angered at the inference that there was something wrong with him, he scowled. "Go back to what you were doing, Maxwell."

Duo knew better than to press a person who was sitting surrounded by sharp instruments of destruction, and pulled back a bit. He opened up the blueprints again and looked over all the areas marked in red pencil where Heero had suspected there were hidden chambers. "This is just _one_ secret passage. We figured there could be a dozen more, and if they've all got false floors like this one...man, there could be gold all over the house!"

"It would be wise to distribute the gold sparsely," Wufei grumbled, "otherwise the weight would cause a structural collapse."

"I wonder how much money's been hiding in the walls all these years," Duo whispered in admiration, running a hand over the cold metal. He never thought he'd be that close to legendary riches after a lifetime of poverty; it was the sort of thing that only happened to him and his street buddies in their daydreams, when they planned how they would one day hit the jackpot and rise up against their upper-class oppressors. "What do you figure it's all worth?"

Staring straight at the wall, with the little shelves he'd installed for his food and personal items, Wufei didn't need another look at the gold to know what it was about. "Those bars are one kilogram each, equal to 32.15 troy ounces. Gold is valued by American banks at twenty dollars and sixty-seven cents per ounce, making each one of those bars six hundred and sixty-four dollars, and some odd cents."

Duo looked up slowly with a carefully-raised eyebrow. He was only looking for a rough estimate. "Right." He sat on his heels with his hands on his knees and pondered their situation. Now that he was sure there was something in the walls that Treize wanted, no place in the house was a very safe place to be. "Look...we're both on the chopping block if we stay here, because there's a dozen goons swarming around the house looking for this gold. That's _got_ to be why they're here, but we'd be tough for them to ignore. If they find either one of us, we're toast, but if we team up, maybe we can get out of here with our heads still attached to our necks."

"You must be joking," Wufei snorted.

"Hey, you wanna stay here and wait for them to start ripping the walls open so they can find you by accident, that's fine!" Duo said. "You wanna kick me out and let me fend for myself, that's fine too! Only I'm taking those blueprints with me, come Hell or high water, and if they catch me with them, they'll find you soon enough. Either way, if we don't trust each other just this _once_, we're snookered."

It was a bitter pill to swallow, but if Wufei was honest with himself, the Maxwell boy was right. _I'd rather not stay here with that gold anyway. I never wanted to see that substance again._ "What did you have in mind?"

Duo clambered back to the hole in the floor and fished around on top of the gold bars until he found his key, then put it safely back in his pocket. "I say we grab what we can of our stuff and sneak out back to the carpenter's cottage. He's a decent guy, he'll hide us for awhile, and we can stick by the house and keep and eye on Treize. Failing that, if something goes really wrong, the three of us can split to this room I've got in Peckham. Nobody knows about it except me and Heero, so I promise you it's safe." He could tell the other boy wasn't totally convinced, and bit his lip. "I know it's gonna feel weird, but we both have great reasons to nail Treize to the wall, so there's no reason why we can't help each other out, and staying here would be a bad risk, for either of us. We're outnumbered and probably outgunned too. So...whaddaya say.....truce?"

Wufei watched in disbelief as Duo, whom he had threatened, attacked, and blamed for at least a portion of his problems for several months, extended his hand in trust and friendship. He also didn't believe what he saw when his own hand crept forward and clasped Duo's, with the underlying worry that he would live to regret it. "Truce."

Duo smiled. _Two stealth experts creeping around the house under the noses of thirteen of our worst enemies...this is gonna be a blast!_ "Alrighty then...let's get sneaking."

**********  
  


Treize looked over the makeshift floor plan his workers had constructed from their measurements of the interior of the house. Using the exterior dimensions for comparison, and the average width of the interior walls, they could easily see that there was some space left unaccounted for. _I knew it had to be in the house somewhere,_ he thought triumphantly. Now there were only two clear obstacles to getting what he came for: the chef and the spy.

For the latter, he had his pistol, which he now carried at all times. As for the former, the workers told him which guest room was being used by Duo, and the Count went to see for himself if the boy was there, with heavy backup behind him. Some furniture had been moved, as indicated by slight scrape marks on the floor, and the bedding was disorderly, but the room was empty. None of them were to know that Duo had cleaned out his few worldly possessions only a few minutes earlier, with Wufei keeping watch at the door for approaching enemies. Another worker came up from the kitchen bearing a note in English, which he could not read, and which Treize was slow to take at face value: 'Nobody needs me anymore, so I'm on vacation! Aloha! ~Duo.'

The Count mulled over the possibility that Duo had actually left Bridlewood while he smoked another one of Lord Peacecraft's fine imported cigars in the drawing room. He also wasn't to know that a few yards away was a treasure trove of gold, precisely what he was hoping to find, and recently-vacated sleeping quarters, from which Wufei had removed his own meagre belongings a few moments earlier to follow Duo. Nor was he to know that the pair had quietly been on the telephone in the front hall, trying unsuccessfully to call Heero and update him before they retreated to their new hideaway. While Treize hadn't seen any of this, he sensed somehow that things were going a bit too smoothly for him, so he wasn't ready to declare his victory quite yet.

_I've been in this game too long to be fooled by an easy advantage. Nothing gained easily can be counted on. If they're still here, I'll find them._

**********  
  


There was never a time in Heero's history that he could remember being so worried for so long. Being cut off from Duo while Treize was in London wasn't just unnerving, it was sheer hell. So many 'what ifs' were flying through his brain that he wasn't much use to Relena all day as a party organizer, not that she noticed. At the end of the day, the weary lad was thankful to get away from everyone and hide in the library, where he finally got a chance to research the unfamiliar language he'd been exposed to earlier.

After studying some maps of eastern Europe and comparing the place names to the sounds he'd heard over the telephone, he guessed that Treize's workmen were Polish, not that it helped him much. He was still stuck eighty miles from his friend, being pulled in different directions by the long and short term requirements of his mission. While most of the rest of the house were tucking themselves in for the night, Heero sat in the library and sulked, knowing he wouldn't be sleeping for a long time.

Eventually, some soft footsteps approached. "Heero?"

The voice wasn't Relena's, which by itself was enough to make the boy lift his head and take a look at his visitor. It was Quatre, holding Shadow in both hands. The cat looked very content there, but squirmed and begged to be put down once she saw her master. The fair-haired gardener handed her to Heero, and she settled down in his lap right away. "She was up in your room meowing, so we thought we'd come see you," Quatre explained.

"It's a big house," Heero said dully. "How did you find me so fast?"

Quatre scratched his head and decided not to get into the fine details of his sixth sense. "Let's just say I have a knack for finding people in need of some comforting."

"I need to get out of here, that's all," Heero insisted. "There's nothing to be gained by rehashing my situation to someone who can't change it."

"So, you _do_ have a situation?" Quatre observed, taking a chair not too near Heero, trying to be supportive in a non-threatening sort of way. "I might not be able to fix anything, but I'll bet you'll feel better for talking. No pressure, of course, but I've found it helps me. I could use something to do anyway...there's a whole army of locals looking after the grounds here, so I've got no official duties anymore."

Heero concentrated on stroking Shadow behind the ears for awhile, wondering how much he could risk telling Quatre, then remembered something that he had wanted clarification on, at a time when there was nobody he could ask. Now seemed as good a time as any. "What do you dream about at night?"

Quatre's eyebrows arched in surprise. "Well, my dreams...they're, uh...kinda random. Sometimes I dream about my home in the desert, and my family...sometimes I see things that relate to whatever I was doing that day...my dreams almost never make sense when I wake up, but while I'm dreaming, it all seems to fit together perfectly." He took a moment to probe lightly into the emotional cloud surrounding Heero, and judged him to be deeply disturbed. "Are...are you having nightmares?"

"No." Heero let Shadow climb partway up his arm while he thought of his next question. "Do you see colour in your dreams, or do you see the world in greys and browns?"

"Oh, colour most of the time," Quatre replied. "I can't remember ever having a dream without any colour in it. In fact, some of the colours I see in my dreams are more vivid than the colours I see in real life. That's the way it's always been for me."

Heero pondered, then nodded. "Last night I dreamt in colour for the first time...or at least, the first time I can recall. Since it occurred so suddenly, my initial diagnosis included the possibilities of early-onset dementia or a brain tumour, but if it's considered normal to others...there might be nothing wrong with me at all."

Quatre didn't sense any change in Heero's level of discomfort at the realization that he wasn't dying or crazy, so he guessed there was something else on his mind, of an even more serious nature. "How else was the dream different?"

Again, Heero paused to construct an explanation that was plausible without revealing too much. "You knew from the beginning that I didn't come to Bridlewood just to serve tea and be bossed around. I trained for many years to be a living weapon, and my dreams were always convoluted replays of the training I had received during the day. Once I was instructed to load and unload several different rifles blindfolded until I could load each one within a certain number of seconds. That night I could see nothing in my dream, and all I heard were the clicks of the cartridges and the barrels...that was all. The formula hasn't changed in years. Last night...was different."

Quatre knew there was more, and couldn't bear to let the conversation go on without acknowledging what he knew in his heart to be true. "You saw Duo in your dream...didn't you?"

Heero stared past the gardener, stroking Shadow's back with mechanical precision. "He was running away from me, playing some sort of game...I tried to catch him, but he was always just out of reach. As soon as I was able to see him clearly, I was woken up.....and we only saw each other for a moment...before..." He trailed off quietly while the calculating machine inside his skull struggled to make the equation balance out. This was not normal behaviour for him, and he knew it, and as soon as Lord Jeffrhyss knew it, he'd be in serious trouble. The resulting threat of fate silenced him before the conundrum got any more dense.

Quatre sighed, not even needing his sixth sense to tell what was really wrong. "You're preoccupied with Duo. You're worried about him, and you feel like there's nothing you can do to help. It's more than just worry, it's misery and loneliness...because you miss him." He couldn't tell whether the concept was computing properly in Heero's brain, so he gave him something more tangible to do. "Why don't you take a walk and think about it for awhile? Then maybe you'll tire yourself out at least, and you can get some sleep. It's getting late."

Heero nodded slowly. This was an acceptable course of non-action, and he could take Shadow along for company. Both boys stood, and Quatre gave Heero a small pat on the shoulder as he walked out of the library, remembering how frightened he was of the boy the first day they met. Time had changed many relationships in many unexpected ways, he mused.

Following Quatre's advice to the letter, Heero wandered about the sprawling country mansion, but soon began berating himself for putting the mission first yet again. _How can I sleep without knowing if Duo's safe? I should never have left him there...I should have stayed in London and taken my chances._ Eventually, he walked all the way to the front hall, and leaned against a darkened window, staring out at the snow-streaked grounds while cuddling the cat close to him. _I have to know...maybe I could slip out tonight, hire my own transport and be there before anyone knows I'm gone...but it could already be too late! Why didn't I stay!?_

Just when he needed it most, something came gliding up to the house, distracting him from his haze of doom and gloom. It appeared to be a boy on a bicycle, a totally unexpected sight at such a late hour; he was all bundled up in a thick coat, and could barely stay on his vehicle as he rode right up to the front door. Anticipating a ring of the doorbell, Heero put the cat down and opened the door before the young man could wake the whole house. The boy waddled sleepily up to the door and yawned out his greeting. "Telegram for Harvey Young."

Heero's face brightened. _That's my official alias. Jeffrhyss rarely uses telegrams, but the only other person who knows that name is Duo!_ He composed himself rapidly and told himself to collect more information. "What sort of telegram is worth sending you out at ten o'clock for?" he needled the boy.

"I only knows 'bout the sort o' person who _sends_ a telegram at ten o'clock, and 'e promised our firm a hefty tip if we delivered it tonight, awlright? Cash on delivery, or I takes it back to the depot. So let's see the colour o' yer money, Guv."

Heero shook his head and fished around in his pocket, pulling out a gold sovereign and tossing it to the boy, who handed over the telegram with due haste. With another long yawn, he got back on his bicycle and rode off, wobbling down the dirt path to the east side of the property, where the locals knew entrance could be gained without going through the locked front gate.

Before the boy was out of sight, Heero swept back inside the house and shut the door, leaning against it and hurriedly tearing open the parchment-coloured envelope. The words he found inside were worth many more gold sovereigns, and he would have given them all up to read them.

_I'm ok. And did you know your phone's broken? ~Duo_

Heero sighed and smiled, stooping to pick up Shadow and wandering in the direction of his bedroom with the warm covers and the brilliant purple bedcurtains. He was feeling wonderfully sleepy all of a sudden.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Thirty-Six: Duo and Wufei make use of their bizarre alliance and strike a silent blow against Treize and his empire, but one of them is far less comfortable with the task than the other. Horrible memories are plaguing Wufei, and Duo wants to know why. Meanwhile, Relena's efforts to keep Heero isolated from evil influences disrupt communication between him and Lord Jeffrhyss, and there must certainly be ramifications._

=^_^= Ok, be honest, how many of you saw THAT coming? With the gold and the burlap and the loose floorboards? *some hands go up* Alrighty, I know you guys are super-smart. =^_~= Now, it's more than my job's worth to publish an episode on Super Bowl Sunday, or even the day after (there's gonna be some serious partying and some serious hangovers, or so I'm told) so let's make a date for February 5th! Ja ne!


	36. Are You Lonesome Tonight?

Slight angst, balanced with some great giggles. =^_~= Hope you like it.

Disclaimer: The only characters in this episode who belong to me are Doris, Arthur, and a little grey cat, and even she gets shared credit with another authoress, so 'dere ain't nuttin' to sue me fer. Okeley-dokely? And even if you did, I'd be too jazzed to notice after that awesome halftime show with U2. Are we talkin' _goosebumps_ or _WHAT!_ *goes starry-eyed* Bono, I love you more than ever. Peace out.

**Suggested Font: Times New Roman**  
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Episode Thirty-Six: Are You Lonesome Tonight?

_"Revenge is an act of passion; vengeance of justice. Injuries are revenged; crimes are avenged." ~Dr. Samuel Johnson_

February 5th, 1902

From midnight on, every night for the past week, there was a serious shovel party going on at Arthur's cottage. He had planned out his little corner of Bridlewood very well when he decided to live apart from the manor so many years ago. A portion of his food came from a vegetable garden at the side of his cottage, squarely in the north-west corner of the property, and it was well-protected from the elements by a thick line of cedar trees that not only kept out the snow, but kept out snoopers. This was a great boon when Duo and Wufei decided to dig it up.

After explaining about the gold to Arthur, the three of them vowed that they would never allow it to reach Treize's greedy hands, and it took less than an hour of speculating to determine that Arthur's vegetable garden would be the optimal hiding place. Duo at first suggested taking it to the pub, but Wufei pointed out that it was much too far away for such a heavy load, and besides, if they took the gold off the property, they'd be stealing from Relena, whom he had nothing against.

And so began many long nights of chipping away at the frozen ground. They could only safely work when Treize's goons were out of the house for the night, but they had to hurry nonetheless, for the blue-clad workmen were already banging on the walls looking for hollow spaces, and would stumble upon the gold by chance sooner or later.

"Nnghh.....how much farther?" Duo whined from the bottom of the pit it took them all week to chisel out.

Wufei was just returning from emptying two buckets of dirt into Arthur's potato bin and quickly produced a notebook from his coat pocket. "I've worked it all out based on what we found in my hiding place. Given the surface area of each bar and the square footage of the secret passage, less six inches on each side, and assuming they're stacked three deep all the way across, there could be a minimum of a hundred and eight bars in that one area. If there are even nine more niches in the house of that size or larger, that's over a thousand bars. Now, if we stack a minimum of ten bars per layer down there, that's almost forty inches right away."

Arthur nodded, passing the buckets back down to Duo for refilling. "Aye, and ye'll need a good, stout layer o' packed gravel, plus a layer o' brick, that's another...ten inches at least."

"Okay..." Duo stood up straight to gauge the depth of the hole. "I'm five foot something, and I can just barely see over the top if I stand on tip-toe..." He demonstrated as such, poking his nose up to ground level.

"So that leaves...about a foot of dirt to cover it," Wufei concluded. It was a pity that they couldn't spread the gold out under the entire garden, but they had to leave most of it untouched in case of a surprise inspection; so much recently-tilled ground would have looked awfully suspicious. "Just even out the bottom and that should be enough."

While the Chinese boy stood scratching out more calculations in his notebook, Duo slowly looked up and folded his arms, staring at him. "I hope you're not overtaxing yourself with all that scribbling, Wu. I'd hate for you to pull a muscle writing all those dollar signs."

Wufei glared down at his unlikely ally. "I haven't worked out the grand total yet. And don't forget those fourteen inches I damn near dug by myself while you were icing down your shoulder. Would you have gotten back out here any quicker if there hadn't been a tin of peanut brittle in Arthur's kitchen?"

"There's no peanut brittle in Arthur's kitchen," Duo drawled defensively.

"Not _anymore_, there's not," Wufei shot back.

"Lads! Lads!" Arthur stepped in. "We've no time fer all this! You, go to the carriage 'ouse and fetch back a wheelbarrow full o' gravel, and you, level off the bottom o' that pit, an' no more squabblin', the pair of ye!" With that, he toddled off to find some bricks.

The two teens took a moment to exchange a righteously whipped glare, then went back to their work. They had an hour at best before sunrise, and the workmen would arrive soon after. Every bit of work they did had to be done under the cover of darkness, and every delay cost them in immeasurable ways. Soon, Wufei returned with the gravel, Arthur had a neat stack of bricks perched by the side of the pit, and Duo had dug a reasonably level floor on which to construct a foundation for the gold. There was no more petty bickering that morning, just hard work; keeping an argument at bay was probably the hardest work of all.

**********  
  


One significant benefit from living in a huge country mansion, it was decided, turned out to be the ease at which a person or small group of people could hide themselves, for it could literally take hours to be located. This sat prominently at the front of Quatre's mind as he stood before her Ladyship, thinking up a reason to drag Heero away from her side for awhile. Relena was surprised at the very suggestion that her beloved knew anything about fixing broken woodstoves; she probably didn't even know there was anything on them to break.

The second he had Heero safely separated from his keeper, Quatre led him strongly by the arm in the opposite direction from the kitchen with the supposedly broken woodstove in it, chattering away about rehabilitation and life being too short as it is. When they reached their true destination, the conservatory that lay far at the other end of the house, Trowa and Hilde were waiting for them with a card table, four chairs and a new deck of cards. They explained that they were kidnapping Heero until lunchtime, for his own good.

"Sure is peaceful out here in the country," Trowa observed as he dealt the third hand of bridge.

Quatre glanced to his right, where Heero sat morosely, and agreed in an obvious tone. "Boy, I'll say! No traffic, no noise, nice clean air...it's practically paradise!" He paused and looked at Trowa. "I call diamonds."

Hilde looked at both of them, and smiled widely. "Yeah, and there's no work to be done, since the locals practically run the place! It's like being on vacation!"

They all looked down at their cards, then up at Heero. The Japanese boy was slouched back in his chair, slackly rearranging his cards and not particularly taking in what the others were ever so subtlely trying to tell him, that he still had a lot to be grateful for. His eyes were glazed, his face drawn, and the people around him who cared enough to notice could clearly see that something was wrong. On top of that, their latest effort to cheer him up was bombing out big time.

Trowa cleared his throat. "And I'll bet it's a lot easier on _you_, Heero, not having to serve drinks, or set the table, or make tea..." Again, no response, especially tricky because Heero was sitting on the dealer's left and was therefore required to lead the hand. "Um.....Heero?"

"Hn?"

"It's your lead."

Heero twitched back to reality and played the first card he happened across. Quatre laid his cards down face up for Trowa's perusal, and smiled to his right. "I hear you've got a pretty nice room now...well-decorated, no drafts...frankly, I'm surprised you didn't catch your death of cold sleeping in that attic..." Heero twitched again, and Quatre shrank away, looking down.

Hilde played the rescuer, as well as the seven of clubs, and drew the attention away from Quatre. "I went into the village with Bethany the other day," she ventured hesitantly. "There's a nice pub there, and the proprietor holds a county-wide darts tournament every February. You've got good aim, Heero, maybe you should enter...y'know...take your mind off..."

Silence followed. Heero continued to mechanically rearrange his cards, trancelike, while the others watched him intently, straining to detect any glimmer of life in his ghostly eyes. Quatre took the trick and laid down the queen of hearts to start the next trick, avoiding everyone's gaze. Play resumed as normal, but when it came to be Heero's turn, he chose a card, hesitated, looked at the three cards on the table, started to put his card back into his hand, hesitated again, and looked up with confusion. "What are trumps again?"

They all sighed with their eyes. "Diamonds," Hilde reminded him. "It's been diamonds for ten whole minutes."

Glancing at his cards with distant resignation, Heero tossed down the card he had picked out originally, the four of spades. The trio exchanged looks of despair, soon after which Hilde came up with a new, last-ditch distraction. "You know what I could go for right now? Some of those lemon jumbles that lady brought up from the cottages the other day! Weren't they delicious?"

"Yeah!" Trowa agreed, nodding so emphatically that his bangs couldn't keep up. "I don't know where they are, though, do you?" They looked at each other and shook their heads, slowly allowing their gazes to land on Heero, who took several seconds to mentally register the hint.

"Allow me," he muttered, shoving himself out of his chair and dragging his feet out of the conservatory to fetch the lemon jumbles.

They watched and waited until he was well out of earshot, after which Trowa slapped the tabletop in frustration and glared at Quatre. "Whad'ya have to go mentioning the attic for!?"

"I know! I'm sorry!" Quatre whimpered, burying his face in his hands. "I didn't think! I was trying to think of something that wouldn't remind him of Duo, but it's not that easy!"

"This is a disaster," Hilde groaned. "He's been a mess all week, and we've probably made him worse now."

Trowa shook his head sadly. "I used to be afraid of him...but now I just feel so sorry for the guy, moping around like he doesn't have a thing left in the world."

"He's lost his best friend," Quatre said solemnly. "I know I'd be that way if I lost my best friend." Sensing the blond boy's distress, Trowa reached across the table and clasped his hand gingerly, hoping to refuel his battered heart with some positive emotions.

"They used to tie up the phone for hours at a time," Hilde added, "but Duo hasn't called or written or anything for days! Man, if he doesn't have a good excuse for that, I'm gonna give him such a wallop!"

Quatre sighed again at the barrage of negativity coming from his left. "I just hope he's alright. He's _my_ friend too, you know, and if anything's.....happened......to.........." Trowa and Hilde looked curiously at the boy as his speech slowed and his eyes widened. "Someone's coming."

The trio tensed up immediately, eyes darting in all directions. It was generally quite relaxing in the country, but that didn't mean that they weren't on 24-hour sister alert for Quatre's protection. Nobody seemed to be coming down the hall towards the conservatory, so they plastered themselves against the wall of windows, brushing aside house plants and tendrils of ivy to get a good look at the countryside spread out before them. They were on the south side of the house, facing a broad expanse of rolling hills dotted with trees and hedgerows, and sure enough, one dark dot, neither a tree nor a hedge, was moving.

As the dot grew larger and became more distinguishable in shape, their fears seemed somewhat justified; it was a woman, approaching fast. "Battlestations!" Trowa shouted, taking immediate command. Following their pre-established plan of action, Quatre ducked 'down below', which for the time being was under the table, leaving him mostly obscured by the table cloth, but still close enough to identify one of his sisters by voice, if it was one of his sisters at all. Hilde, in her capacity as acting first mate in Duo's absence, stood at the glass panel door to the patio outside the conservatory, smiling and waving the woman forward, while Trowa, the self-appointed ship's captain, grabbed a previously-concealed fencing foil and hid behind a ficus plant.

As the strange woman tramped through the snow, she saw a girl at the door in a housemaid's uniform, smiling and beckoning, and felt very relieved. The snow had stopped falling days ago, but it was still bitterly cold outside. She tugged her shawl closer about her neck and shoulders as she hurried to the door, looking forward to being warm again. The door was opened for her, and the housemaid moved back and smiled again as she stepped inside.

"Do come in!" Hilde squealed. "You must be chilled to the bone!"

"Thank you," the dark-haired stranger breathed with relief. While she brushed the snow from the hem of her gray cotton skirt and removed her shawl, Hilde slowly crept behind her and shut the door, blocking her exit. The woman was totally unaware that anything was amiss until she tried to take a step forward, and suddenly felt a piece of thin, cold steel nudge itself against her throat. She froze.

"That's far enough," Trowa said, guiding her to stand up straight by gently pushing the sword up under her chin. "Hands in the air, if you please."

The woman looked around shiftily and slowly obeyed, raising her gloved hands to ear level. To her left was a tall, slender lad who would have ordinarily looked very friendly if not for the evil stare and the sword he had pressed to her jugular. "Um..."

"Don't you start with us, lady!" Hilde shouted, leaping out from the woman's right and hoisting up a chair to defend herself with, like a circus trainer in a cage with the head lion. She leaned over to Trowa with a sinister glint in her eye. "Want me to frisk her, boss?"

Trowa flinched. "Not...just yet. First, this nice lady is going to tell us who she is and what she's doing here, and we'll give her ample time to do so before we even _think_ about getting invasive, okay?" He angled the sword and tilted the woman's head up even further. "Start singing."

The dark-haired stranger looked shocked and confused, wondering what she'd done wrong, and licked her lips, trying to think of an appropriate cover story. She was just debating whether she could faint convincingly without cutting herself when Heero walked in, carrying a round tin full of sugary lemon jumbles. He stopped just inside the door, and all eyes were quickly upon him.

Heero looked at the boy with the sword, the girl with the chair, the woman with her arms raised in submission, and then located Quatre under the table after a brief search. He bent down slightly, lifted up a corner of the tablecloth, blinked, passed the tin of biscuits to Quatre who mouthed 'thank you' back at him, let go of the cloth, and stood up straight. The rest of the scene, he didn't even want to bother thinking about. "Hello, Lucille."

The teens on either side of her gaped as she sighed into a smile. "Good morning, Heero."

There was a clunk and a yelp of pain as the card table jumped about half an inch, and Quatre quickly emerged, holding the tin of treats in one hand and holding the back of his head with the other. He took one look at the woman and shook his head at Trowa, swallowing part of the cookie he was chewing. "Fee's mot mun of my fifters," he mumbled through the lemony crumbs.

"Oh." Trowa ducked his head and cleared his throat, lowering the sword and tugging shamefully at his collar. "At ease." Hilde also lowered her weapon and backed away. The three of them collected themselves far away from Heero and the woman he called 'Lucille', and with sheepish pouts all around, they scurried out of the conservatory under little muffled apologies.

Noin clasped her hands behind her back and shrugged her shoulders. "They say there's nothing like a good old-fashioned country welcome," she quipped.

Heero smirked for the first time in ages. "They like you. I can tell." While the woman grinned back, he stepped aside and gestured out to the hall, where the others had just disappeared. "Shall we take a walk?"

She nodded, and they went for a stroll down one of the country estate's many empty corridors. "Do they keep you pretty busy here?" Noin asked hesitantly.

"Not with anything terribly important," Heero conceded.

"So...there's nothing to keep you here if you've been called away...even for a few hours?"

Heero slowed down and crinkled his brow. "What do you mean?"

Noin looked uncomfortably in all directions, and the silent decision was made between them to duck into the nearest available room, which happened to be the round-fronted lounge that housed the estate's non-working telephone. Heero shut the door and stood at the window with Noin, looking at the angry rainclouds forming on the horizon. "This isn't a social call, is it?" he guessed.

"I was sent to find out what happened to you," she said. "Lord Jeffrhyss thought maybe you'd switched sides without telling him when you didn't answer his summons."

Heero squinted. "What summons?"

"Didn't you get it" Noin asked worriedly. "He sent for you by post two days ago and you never showed up."

"No, I haven't heard from him since I arrived here," he said with a shake of his head. "It's already Wednesday. I'll see him tomorrow."

"He wants you there _today_."

".....today," Heero repeated, "or he'll probably punish _you_ for not bringing me back as instructed."

Noin looked away. "That's pretty much the idea."

Heero stared out the window some more. It was turning deliciously stormy outside, set to bucket down at any moment and wash away all traces of the pleasant side of winter. Gray and bleak and miserable. "I'll get my coat."

"Thanks," Noin said quietly, staring out the same pane of glass. She barely knew him, but could somehow sense that he was only doing this for her benefit. She hoped that, by the time they arrived at the new secret base, she'd know exactly how guilty she should feel.

**********  
  


In the back room of Arthur's cottage, with the lights off, the blinds drawn, and nothing but the chirping of birds in Regent's Park peeping through the woodwork, Duo and Wufei tried semi-successfully to sleep in the middle of the day. It hadn't worked well for either of them the last six days in a row, and today was running true to form.

"...Wu? ...you awake?" Duo whispered. Silence. A little more volume was needed. "Hey, Wu-man, are you awake!?"

Wufei groaned in his native tongue and stuffed his head further under his pillow. "Mmrn...jichunzhiren.....bejuay..."

Duo sat up and looked over at the other sofa in the room where Arthur had let them bunk for the last several days while they worked on the hole in the vegetable garden. "Uh, what?"

"I _said_, shut..._up_.....Maxwell!!" the lump on the second sofa snapped. "I have been awake for the last twenty-nine hours. I've been slaving away at digging a gigantic tiger trap for half of that time, and listening to you prattle on about everything under the sun for the other half. There's less than twelve hours before we have to start smuggling the gold out of the house, and I..._need_....._sleep!!_"

Duo threw off the blanket and swung his feet over the side of sofa #1, scowling at the darkness. "Well, why don't you just gut Treize like a fish and take off, if this is such a horrible experience for you!? Go if you want! Why the hell not!?" A frustrated mumble was all Duo got in return. "What was that?"

"I said because I _can't!_ ...idiot..."

The chef was actually startled by the tone Wufei used, mostly because he'd heard it coming out of his own mouth in his weaker moments as a disenfranchised orphan. He recognized the combination of loneliness, anger, and guilt all too well, and couldn't stop himself from wanting to know more. "What's the deal, Wu?" he asked softly. "Why can't you forget about this gold?"

Wufei cringed and emerged from under his pillow, sighing. _I must not have done a good job all week of pretending I didn't care._ He swallowed. "Alright...I'll tell you...but only because it's relevant to our current situation, not because I need to 'unload' in order to feel better. I'm not that weak."

Duo nodded in the dark. "Fair enough."

Wufei laced his fingers together behind his head, sinking into the pillow as far as he could while he asked himself again and again why he felt compelled to trust Duo. "Is this Heero's first assignment?"

"I,uh...I'm not sure. I guess so."

"Mm," the Chinese boy grunted noncommittally. "My first was almost four years ago, during the last gold rush."

Duo's eyes bulged in jealousy and admiration. "In the Yukon?"

"I was sent there for some on-site training by my master at the time. I won't tell you his name, but it wasn't Lord Jeffrhyss." Duo's lack of any confused blathering confirmed Wufei's suspicion that Heero had already divulged some key details about his employment. "My job was to accompany the trains carrying ore from the mines in the north down to Sacremento, mostly as an observer. I was too young and too valuable for my master to let me waste away in the mines themselves, so I was put to work painting misleading labels on the crates of ore, like 'lead' or 'iron', just to momentarily bluff the authorities in case the train was stopped and searched.

"I was also a translator. There were thousands of Chinese who had been taken to America as cheap labourers, mostly to do the jobs that were too strenuous or too dangerous for the westerners...loading and unloading dangerously heavy cargo, laying track in the burning hot sun, blasting through rough terrain with dynamite and nitro glycerine. It's been that way for my people for generations...and some still say that for every mile of railroad track, one Chinese man lost his life to build it." There was another uncomfortable silence as Duo felt the bitterness in Wufei's voice and contemplated the possible abusive relationship that may have existed between their ancestors. "That was when it started, while I was acting as a liaison for those of my people who spoke no English.....I met a girl.

"Her name was Meiran. We took to each other so easily, like we were two halves of the same soul. We'd hardly known each other, as far as the rest of the world cared...but we were going to be married one day, when we were older...we promised each other..." He uncoiled his arms and drew them tightly around himself, forcibly exhaling.

"The westerners thought we all looked alike at that age, so when she volunteered for transport duty to be near me, they just thought she was another boy, and so there were no objections. We went to the mines and assisted as best we could as a new load of gold ore was put aboard in crates, and then the train left on its way back to California. It was just like any other run...we had no indication that anything was wrong."

Duo pulled his feet back underneath him and sat cross-legged on his sofa, fiddling nervously with the end of his braid. "What happened?"

"The train was made up mostly of boxcars," Wufei explained, illustrating with his hands. "The ones in the back were full of ore, and the last two before the engine were the sleeper cars. All the workers slept there, Chinese in one car, Americans in the other. It was nighttime as we were approaching the border...I'd ridden that route enough times to know exactly what to expect, but out of nowhere, we felt this jolt, like a bump on the track, though we knew that was impossible. Then came the explosion.

"Something happened to the engine, we didn't know what, but all at once there was a ball of orange fire that swept past us, and I realized that the engine had been destroyed, and that the sleeper cars were hurtling through the debris field. Meiran was right next to me the whole time...she woke up and took my hand...and I told her not to be frightened.

"The next thing we felt was the whole car lurching to the side and flipping over. Both sleeper cars were derailed and came crashing off the track. I must have hit my head because I couldn't see or move or even speak, but I heard everyone around me screaming.....screaming for their lives as the metal that was supposed to protect them...shredded..." Wufei's voice crackled, and he swallowed twice to compose himself. "When I came to, I was bleeding from too many gashes to count, but I couldn't stop to tend to my own wounds. I started fumbling around in the dark, crawling through the rubble looking for the others...looking for Meiran by the light of smoldering fires all around me. Only a handful of workers survived."

Duo forced his gaze down, eyes stinging. He didn't even need to ask if Meiran was among them, and crossed himself respectfully.

"There was no time to grieve before the reason for the disaster became clear. The boxcars full of raw gold were all unharmed and sitting on the track a long way behind us. The first jolt I felt must have been someone unhooking them from the sleeper cars. I heard rattling wheels in the distance, and something rolled up behind the boxcars. It bumped into them, and I heard footsteps, men's voices, and clanking metal. When I heard the roar of a second engine, I knew exactly what was going on...someone had hooked a new engine up to the gold shipment and started towing it in the opposite direction. The whole thing was a heist."

On the other side of the room, Duo was trying to distract himself from the many unpleasant revelations by playing with his hair elastic. "Couldn't the police do anything?"

"Police!" Wufei snorted contemptuously. "The entire mining operation was owned by my master! There were no permits, no official recognition, it wasn't even on the map! What we were doing was illegal to _start_ with! How could we tell the police!?" He actually felt better for shouting; it took his mind off the fact that he was just about to cry. "Anyway...our organization paid the civilian survivors not to say anything, and I was the only agent who got out alive, so I was simply ordered to forget about it. I couldn't though...I had to demand justice for the dead.

"I managed to use my training and influence to gather scraps of information on the train robbers. My master instructed me not to tell anyone about the mine, but he never said I couldn't ask questions--the Mounties were very helpful. It took months of searching and miles of travel, but I finally found the name of the man behind the robbery, the man responsible for Meiran's death, and the deaths of dozens of innocent workers."

Wordlessly, Duo pointed a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the manor, grimly raising both eyebrows. Wufei nodded. The chef let out a terse breath through gritted teeth. "God all freakin' mighty."

Wufei folded his arms and shut his eyes. "So now you see why I _can't_ allow him to get away with it a second time. Treize will swap blood for gold without a moment's consideration, and I suppose I feel it's my duty to see that it never happens again. Meiran would have wanted that."

"Yeah, but...you want him stopped, _and_ you want him dead," Duo observed. "Doesn't one solution solve both problems? I mean, why wait? He's probably in there right now, smoking those fancy cigars with his feet up in front of the fire. Go get him!" It was more of an empty dare than a genuine suggestion; he knew darn well that if Wufei was both willing and able to kill Treize, he would have done it by now.

The other boy glanced away in guilty shame. "That was just talk. I can't kill him unless I'm ordered to, or unless I can find a way to pin it on someone else or make it look like an accident. If I killed him without authorization and got caught, Jeffrhyss' agents would be all over me." He falsely imagined Duo smirking at his strategical impotence, and twisted angrily around to look him in the eye. "But I _will_ do grievous bodily harm to _you_ if you go blabbing this all over town! I still have to hold my head up in the espionage community, thank you..."

Finally, Duo smirked for real. _I knew you were just a lot of hot air._ "How 'bout if I keep it to myself in exchange for you going a little easier on Heero? None of what happened to you and her is his fault, you know."

"That's different," Wufei shot back. "Heero's in the way. I obtained a transfer to Lord Jeffrhyss' service in plenty of time to qualify for this assignment, and if I'd gotten it, I could have killed Treize in 'self defence' and no one would have disputed me. I was even ready to take the inevitable punishment for it, but as long as Heero's officially in the power seat, my hands are tied." He fluffed up his pillow and settled back down into it. "Talk him into early retirement, and I might be tempted to act a bit more civil towards him."

Unexpectedly, Duo laughed--a real laugh, not a scoff or a sneer, making them both think that perhaps he was starting to enjoy Wufei's company. _Considering what the guy's been through...maybe he's not so bad. Just a rough start in life. Of all people, I should know how that feels._ "Okay, how about just being nice to me?"

"Don't press your luck, Maxwell. Just go to sleep."

Duo fell back on his own sofa and retrieved his blanket, laughing all the more. Maybe it was the humanizing effect of hearing the boy's sad tale, followed so quickly by the usual pithy barbs and sarcastic tone of voice, but Duo was actually starting to feel comfortable with his presence...perhaps even starting to like him...just a little. At the very least, he was someone to talk to, someone to pull his wayward thoughts away from the person he was _really_ missing, if only for a short while. In the past week, Duo had sent Heero two more telegrams and a long letter, but Heero hadn't sent back any sort of reply. It was more than a little worrisome.

_I've had just about enough, too. I swear, if I don't hear from him soon, I'm marching down there and finding him myself, gold or no gold._ Still, there weren't any other easy opportunities to contact each other just then, and self-righteous or not, Wufei was right about them needing plenty of sleep. They both curled up on their separate couches, trying to waste a bit more time before nightfall.

**********  
  


Noin and Heero walked together to the village and hired a carriage the rest of the way to the shoreline. Jeffrhyss had sent her with exactly the right amount of money for the ferry to the Isle of Wight, so finances, as usual, weren't a problem. As soon as they disembarked onto the tiny island, there was a private coach waiting for them, but Heero insisted on stopping at the closest eating establishment first; he didn't approve of their master sending her to Hampshire and back on an empty stomach.

When they finally reached their destination, Heero was hard-pressed to determine exactly where Lord Jeffrhyss' new compound was. They had stopped at an expanse of rolling green hills, a dingy brownish green but green nonetheless, with no buildings in sight. The vacant-eyed driver of the coach led them behind one of the hills where Heero saw a faint squarish outline traced into the grassy south face. It was quickly shown to be a concealed door opening inward, revealing a staircase leading straight down into the belly of the island. Unlike the basement of the farmhouse outside Cloverderry Glen, this was a more permanent hiding place, decades old and proven to be secure.

Once inside, Noin threw a last, hopeful look at Heero and vanished down a corridor, leaving him to the care of the coach driver. This underground complex was a much more daunting structure, with cement floors and whitewashed ceilings, strung end-to-end with new electric lights. It was a stark and ludicrously efficient place until they got to the nerve center, Lord Jeffrhyss' work chamber, which was just as much of a mess as it always had been. In fact, it looked identical to the basement of the farmhouse, down to the last piece of clutter.

The vacant-eyed fellow herded Heero into the main chamber and left without uttering a syllable. Quiet as a mouse, once the man had left, Noin tiptoed up to the door and stood there, listening. If it was anyone else visiting his Lordship, she might not have cared...but somehow, Heero was different.

"Well now," Lord Jeffrhyss boomed as he hobbled into the room from the opposite door on his cane and peg legs. He strode slowly around his puppet, indulging in a rhetorical question. "Is this your subtle way of telling me you're striking out as an independent?" He paused, then delivered the real question. "You didn't feel it was necessary to answer my summons?"

Heero stood quietly in the center of the room, his eyes lowered. "I respectfully contend that I never received your summons."

"Indeed!" Jeffrhyss scoffed. "Did you send me the correct address upon your arrival?"

"Yes."

"And do you doubt my secretary's ability to write out an envelope?"

"No..."

"Did you check the validity of the local post office? The routes to and from your location? Background checks on the postman?"

"_Yes_, I did _all_ of that."

Jeffrhyss stopped in front of the boy and twitched his moustache back and forth. "And are you still the first one in the house to lay hands on the morning mail?"

Heero held his breath and looked up by an inch. Because of his disturbed sleep, his whole schedule had been severely disrupted. He hadn't been awake early enough to even _see_ the postman for the last two weeks. "...no."

Jeffrhyss grunted in disapproval. "Sloppy. Very, very sloppy. I _despair_ of you sometimes." The grip he kept on his cane adjusted itself, about as pleasantly as a tarantula repositioning its legs over the carcass of its latest kill. "I shall expect you here twice a week from now on."

The boy looked up in horror. "That wasn't our agreement!"

"If you can't be relied upon to come when I call, what else would you have me do?" Jeffrhyss spat in an insulting tone. He hobbled over to an oak table with an assortment of glassware on it, with gas burners, round flasks and retort stands, looking altogether like an overgrown child's chemistry set. "I have also altered the mixture of your treatments," he said, reaching for the usual mortar and pestle containing strange-smelling powders.

Heero's throat tightened up as he was struck with the concept of polluting his lungs and his blood with even more unidentified chemicals, and twice as often to boot. He took a step back, feebly. "You're...you're in breach of...our contract..."

Jeffrhyss seemed to ignore him, keeping his back turned as he tinkered with test tubes and scales. "Where is your friend right now?"

"...he's in London."

"Wrong," the old man said. "He's in London with Wufei, the difference being that with Wufei there, I can have the boy eliminated with a single word." The rather oblique threat against Duo's safety had precisely the right effect on Heero; his Lordship was a lot of things, but never a liar, and if he said that he was a first-class stamp away from killing somebody, he generally meant it. Forced to accept the new terms of their arrangement, Heero walked numbly forward, ready to receive what was due to him.

At that point, Noin slunk away from the door and crept back to her room, cataloguing everything she had just heard. She didn't need to see what happened next; she'd been witnessing it quietly for several weeks, as Heero was summoned and subjected to a noxious-smelling smoke over and over again. The odd thing was, some of the smoke always drifted into her room, but it never affected her the way it did him, and that made it all but impossible for her to discover what it actually was.

Noin curled up on her bunk and thought about it some more, while she waited for her instructions.

**********  
  


"Are you _sure_ you looked everywhere?" Relena asked in a timidly frightened voice.

"Quite sure, Miss," Doris said solemnly. "We've swept through the house twice, from top to bottom. He's not here."

Her Ladyship sat down gingerly in the green leather wing chair that was the focal point of the round-fronted lounge, with a double-handed deathgrip on her lace handkerchief. She stared at the wall with lifeless eyes, coping rather badly with the realization that Heero had just broken his first promise to her, ever. He was supposed to join her for tea with a few of their country neighbours, and he told her most faithfully that he would be there. Not only did he miss afternoon tea, but dinner as well, and was nowhere to be found on the estate. "Thank you, Doris. You may go now."

The elderly housemaid turned and left, and the lounge was terribly quiet. Relena hated quiet rooms, hated the loneliness that silence represented, and hated the thought that Heero was falling off the rails already. She rose and went to the world globe in the corner, and unlocked it. Swinging the top half open revealed a brandy snifter, empty since 1899, and Relena had no intention of filling it either, not while she suspected that Heero was slowly turning into a drunk.

_He must know by now that there's a pub in the village, and he's always been around liquor in an official capacity...I should have seen it coming. He's shiftless, he's secretive, and I have a feeling he's not totally honest with me all the time._ Lifting the brandy snifter out of its velvet-lined casing, she reached underneath and took out the small stack of envelopes she had hidden there over the past week. Two telegrams and two letters, all addressed to Heero. _Maybe his drinking is a reaction to being cut off from...from that boy...which I suppose is my fault, in a way, but it's got to be part of the road to recovery. Once he gets through this, he'll be fine. He has to be._

She thumbed through the envelopes and mentally weighed what the damage might be if she offered him just one of the letters in exchange for him curbing his erratic behaviour. Somehow she knew that the young man was falling apart, with his strange sleeping patterns, sour moods, and short attention span, but putting him back in contact with Duo was too much of a risk. She put the letters back, replaced the crystal jug, closed the globe up again, and locked it, choosing to stand by her original plan.

A clomping sound approached from the hall, irregular and clumsy. Relena narrowed her eyes, folded her arms and turned to the lounge door, ready to confront her visitor. Sure as God made little green apples, in stumbled her beloved, jacket slung over his shoulder and sweating like a fur coat model in a Swedish sauna. He leaned heavily against the door frame and tried to focus his blurred vision on Relena. She was not amused.

"Heero, I'm going to ask you a question, and I want an honest answer, yes or no." She inhaled sharply through her nose and set her jaw. "Have you been drinking?"

Heero held up his non-jacket hand in protest and let it sway in mid-air for a moment while he searched his memory banks for the required English lexicon. "_No._" He thought about that. He honestly hadn't touched a drop for days, but how else could he explain his condition? Flushed crimson and half-dressed despite the near freezing temperatures he'd just travelled through, woozy and feverish from his Lordship's 'new mixture'? What was he supposed to tell her, the truth? He dropped his hand and closed his eyes. "Yes."

"I thought so." She walked around the chair, the table, and the non-working telephone to stand a few feet away from him, not really wanting to smell whatever bitter liquid he'd been soaking his back teeth in for the last several hours. "I think you should go to bed early and sleep it off, and tomorrow I'd like to have a talk with you about your general health and conduct in this house."

He didn't seem to hear or even see her, as it was taking what little remained of his powers of concentration just to stand up straight, and he wasn't doing too swift a job of that, either. It was also just occurring to him that he may have left his overcoat on the ferry. Relena sighed. "Go on...get some sleep," she said, and she quickly kissed his cheek to say goodnight. Heero turned unsteadily around and plodded off down the hall, dragging his jacket along the floor. Relena went back to the green leather wing chair and sank into it, despondent but filled with a new resolve to see Heero rehabilitated, no matter how long it took.

Heero was experiencing a similar resolve to make it all the way upstairs unscathed, and had few problems until he reached the top and failed to see that the steps had run out. Only a quick grab of the banister prevented him from toppling over forwards into the thin layer of carpet on the landing. Looking around once to see if there were any witnesses, he staggered to his room.

The one comforting thought on his mind was that he would gradually get used to the new combination of chemicals, and next time he might actually make it home before eight-thirty. He walked into the room with the purple velvet bed curtains, shut the door behind him, took a step and a half more, and promptly passed out. His knees buckled first, and the rest of him soon followed, until he lay unconscious on the floor. Shadow jumped down from the window seat, padded over, and nuzzled the side of his face, but he wouldn't move.

In the hazy dream that followed, Heero faintly heard meowing, then voices, two boys and a girl, slightly familiar but shrouded in mist. Someone lifted him up off the floor, took off his shoes and his waistcoat, and put him to bed. The next morning he would wake up tucked in snugly and hugging a pillow, with a massive headache and no memory of the previous eighteen hours, but until he heard Duo's voice again and felt justification for his suffering, it would have to be enough.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


_Next, in Episode Thirty-Seven: Treize's men make a discovery within the walls of the manor, but is it what Treize expected? Heero has a rendez-vous with Marcus who has a whale of a tale to tell him, and Duo smuggles himself into Hampshire, looking for his long-lost friend._

=@_@= Oy oy oy! That was confusing while I was jotting it down, and it seemed to get more convoluted the more I typed! I hope it came across sensibly! =^_~= I've set the next part for February 14th, and I'd watch my inbox if I were you...you might find a little surprise there, if you've reviewed my work or written to me in the past. *winky winky* Cyaz!


	37. Change My Direction

**Disclaimer:** In a chocolate-induced hallucinatory fit, I imagined, very briefly, that all Gundam pilots were mine in perpetuity throughout the universe. Then my blood sugar levelled off and cold, bitter reality set in. =;_;= I gotta go to Wal-Mart and get more chocolate. What's left should be on sale tomorrow. =^_^=

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Thirty-Seven: Change My Direction

_"Love has no middle term; it either saves or destroys." ~Victor Hugo _

February 14th, 1902

Not long after sunrise, there was a light tapping at Relena's window. Someone was trying to wake her up and grab her attention, which wouldn't have been that unusual, except that her bedroom was on the second floor. She shook herself awake and sat up in her white lace-coated bed, listening to the curious tapping noises, and as she watched the window, sleepy-eyed, little dark specks were hitting the antique glass window pane.

Relena smiled excitedly to herself, remembering what day it was. _It's Valentine's Day! It's Valentine's Day and someone's throwing pebbles at my window to wake me up!_ She threw off the covers and jumped out of bed in her pale pink nightgown, not even stopping to cover her feet as she bounced merrily to the window. _How romantic! I wonder who it could be! As if I didn't know..._ Fluffing up her hair once, she unlatched the window and prepared to greet her one true love on the most romantic morning of the year.

_Mind you, if he's chipped that glass, I'll clothesline him._ She hefted the window upwards and leaned outside.

"What ho, fair lady!" a chipper tenor voice shouted from the ground. It was a very bright and cheery voice...almost _perky_...even with a full night's sleep and an entire pot of coffee, Heero was _never_ perky...

Relena squinted at the young man who had pelted pebbles at her window, and was now rocking back and forth on his heels with his hands in his pockets. "...Marcus?"

"Good morning, m'lady," the tawny-haired youth greeted with a courtly bow. "I just happened to be passing through the village on business and thought I'd stop by to remind you of how beautiful you are."

The girl blushed involuntarily and smiled for a moment, just long enough to remember that she was already spoken for. "Excuse me, _Mister_ Wyndham," she sniffed, looking down her cherubic nose at him, "but it's hardly appropriate for you to address me in such a manner, seeing as how I'm engaged to be married." She thought for a second more and hurriedly clutched at the neckline of her nightgown, tugging it up over another inch of peaches-and-cream skin. "Nor is it proper for me to carry on a conversation in my night attire, so I think now would be as good a time as any for us to part ways, don't you?"

Marcus was only too happy to consent. "If it is your Ladyship's wish, I shall leave straight away! I want nothing more than your happiness, O charming one."

His sudden agreement to leave her alone caught her by surprise, and before she knew what she was doing, she was smiling again. Marcus was a true gentleman. "Well...alright then," she said, slowly ducking back behind the window frame, "and I thank you most cordially for the earrings you sent me for Christmas. They're very lovely."

The young man grinned. Heero had warned him about the earrings, so he was well-prepared to play along. He gave her another courtly bow, this one even deeper than the first, turned, and walked easily away from the country house, whistling.

Relena was all aglow when she shut the window, but disappointment soon set in. _Why couldn't Heero have done something sweet and romantic like that? I know he's a bit on the sullen side, even on a good day, but..._ With pausing steps, she gathered up her robe and slippers, telling herself to be more forgiving of the boy. _The day's not over yet. He could be planning a nice surprise for me right now._ She couldn't wait. She wanted to see him.

If Otto had caught her wandering the house in a state of undress, she would have caught serious hell, but of _course_ it was worth the risk. She tiptoed down the vacant corridors to Heero's room, gave a pert little superfluous knock while she twisted the knob, swung the door open...

...and the room was empty. The cat was gone, the bed was made, all traces of clutter and disorder had been long since eliminated, and to top it all off, Heero had vanished. All before seven-thirty in the morning. Relena frowned and shut the door, puzzling.

**********  
  


In the nearby village, the dear old lady who ran the quaint country tea room was still getting used to the early morning starts, but she couldn't argue with profits. For the last several mornings, a strange young man with wild eyes and spiky hair was pacing outside her pristine blue and white house, waiting for her to open up for business, often before sunrise. If it were anyone else, she might have refused, but the boy consistently ate what seemed to be his own weight in sandwiches and butter tarts, all while muttering about insomnia and how awful the food was 'back home', so she indulged him as far as his wallet would stretch. It seemed to be indefinite.

That morning, the boy had a guest. The grumpy youth was only halfway through his usual hefty breakfast when a much happier boy with a green frock coat and a shock of tan hair strolled into the tea room for what seemed to be a pre-arranged meeting. He greeted the proprietor warmly and plopped down into a chair opposite the dark-haired boy.

After a moment or two, the grumpy one looked up with a scowl. _It should be illegal to look that happy this early in the morning._ "Can I get you something?"

Marcus smiled brightly and turned to the owner. "Thank you very much! Tea and toast, if you please," he said in his languid Liverpool accent. The woman plodded away with a friendly nod, and Marcus took some folded papers out of his inside jacket pocket as soon as she was gone. "I think I've found some things that might interest you," he whispered.

Heero nodded, but kept eating. "Go on."

"That Khushrenada fellow is undoubtedly a millionaire, but even the bank's records couldn't provide an exact figure of his wealth." He unfolded the papers and slid them across the crochet tablecloth, face up. It was a complete list of the Count's declared assets.

Heero glanced over the numbers; certainly, Treize was rich, but there was nothing particularly spectacular about that. One item on his list of assets _was_ interesting, though, something marked down as 'miscellaneous sundries, unvalued.' He crinkled his brow and pointed to it. "What's that?"

Without looking, Marcus knew to which item Heero was referring, and gave him a crafty smile. "Ah, _that's_ what I knew you'd find most tantalizing. The Count has a safety deposit box at this bank, though it's really more of a storage room, or a walk-in closet with a great hulking combination lock on the front of it. My father's a good friend of the banker, so we managed to get a look inside. Presently, it's full to the rafters with gold."

Heero finally looked up at that. "Why hasn't it been valued?"

Marcus looked over each shoulder to remind himself that the tea room was still empty, then leaned forward. "The gold has been melted into bars, in the usual fashion, but it's unmarked. They have no mill insignia, no purity rating, nothing! It had to have been refined somewhere, but there's nothing anywhere on the bars to indicate where it was done. To the suspicious mind, that could suggest that it's stolen."

They looked at each other in silence as the elderly lady returned with Marcus' tea and toast. Heero waited until she disappeared behind the sliding pocket doors that led to the kitchen before resuming the conversation. "Could the mill marks have simply been ground off the bars?"

Marcus shook his head. "No, the bars were exactly the right thickness and perfectly shaped. Before presuming that the Count would go to the trouble of melting down existing bars and re-pouring them with no markings, I'd sooner guess that they were made that way straight from gold ore. I knew you'd want to know where the ore might have come from, so I contacted the authorities in all the major gold-mining nations. There have been no reported raw gold thefts on this scale in the last thirty years."

Heero sipped his coffee and mulled over the problem. "So there's no way to tell from whom it was stolen...does the bank realize it may be harbouring stolen goods?"

"From what my father's friend intimated, Khushrenada has half the board of directors in his back pocket. Even if a theft report was filed, he'd be practically untouchable. They'd back him up to the hilt." Marcus saw the other boy's jaw tighten at the prospect of Treize getting away with whatever he pleased, and pulled out the bottom few pages from the stack of paper to cheer him up. "I got something else that might be useful, though...a list of transactions on this account over the past two years."

That made Heero's eyes light up like sparklers. "_Very_ good...that could prove most useful indeed," he purred as he shuffled through the papers, all but drooling over the plethora of numbers and dates.

"I thought you'd appreciate a little extra to make up for the fact that I had to tell father about you...I mean, that you're a secret agent, and all...he couldn't see any way 'round my poking and prying in confidential records without knowing what it was for."

"That's alright," Heero sighed, "sacrifices had to be made. As long as nobody else knows."

Marcus toyed guiltily with his toast. "He told Mum..." A glare was upon him almost immediately. "He _has_ to tell her everything about his day when he comes home from the office, or else she starts thinking he's got a bit on the side, sort of thing...you know how it is...jealous wives..."

"Fine." Heero resumed his evaluation of the numbers, and worked on polishing off his eggs and bacon, hoping that would be the last bit of bad news he'd hear for awhile.

".....Mum told Granny..."

Heero dropped his fork and clenched his fists in frustration. "What did you think 'secret agent' meant? Is there anyone else you'd like to broadcast my presence to? Why don't I just show up at your next family reunion and you can introduce me to everyone at once!?"

"Now, there's no cause to panic," Marcus said calmly, "Granny promised with her hand on her heart that she wouldn't breathe a word of it to anyone." A long pause followed. "And the ladies from her knitting circle said they'd do the same." Heero shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in agony. "Old Mrs. Kretzmaar wondered if you were Taiwanese. I told her I'd ask. Her neighbour's daughter is an anthropological research assistant in Taiwan, and she's unattached, so she might be writing to you soon."

"Marcus, stop speaking."

"Right you are."

Marcus endured many more glares while they finished their breakfast, and smiled innocently at every single one. Now that he had set himself squarely on the path to becoming Relena's new beau, nothing could dampen his spirits.

**********  
  


Duo had arrived in the county of Hampshire the day before, but didn't know where to start looking for the country estate. There was a good chance that the address was at the bottom of a desk drawer somewhere in Bridlewood, but he didn't want it badly enough to risk capture. He knew the general area the house was probably in, and he had the defunct phone number and the owner's name, so he reasoned that these should have been enough to just ask around until he found someone who had heard of the Peacecrafts. It didn't go exactly according to plan, and at nine o'clock at night, he was still wandering the streets of Southampton. He only brought a little money for food and transportation, so to conserve resources as much as possible, he slept in an alley for the first time in ages.

When he woke up the next morning with a backache and a crick in his neck, he drastically envied Wufei, who at least had Arthur's soft sofa to curl up on. He had briefly considered giving him the key to the room at Catherine's pub, but knew Heero wouldn't approve, and thus opted to count on Arthur's resourcefulness in the event that Treize went after them both. Nearly all the gold had been sealed up in the vegetable garden, and if the Count found out who was responsible, he'd be none too pleased.

Determined to travel light, Duo left nearly everything behind, taking only a few essentials that would fit in the pockets of his overcoat, plus his beloved plaid woolen blanket, which had already saved him from near-freezing temperatures the night before. He finally stumbled across the hall of records and found a nice Welsh lady who showed him where the Peacecraft estate was on the map, and the quickest route to get there. Before long, he was in a carriage on his way to a lavish old building called Sutherby Hall.

The driver took him to the front gate first, but the gate was locked. Duo asked to be dropped off at a shady spot on the east side of the property, and decided it was best overall if he snuck up on the house a bit at a time. With his blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders, he crept forward without even knowing if he was headed in the right direction, but misery and loneliness wouldn't allow him to slow down. No matter how often he tried to contact Heero, the boy never replied, and Duo swore that as soon as his obligation to the Peacecraft gold was finished, he would go looking for his friend.

After several minutes of slithering across the grounds, he came across a very pretty spot, which he imagined must have been absolutely gorgeous in spring or summer. A massive willow tree, bare of its leaves, leaned heavily over a small patch of moss no wider across than the tree's branches. There were some clumps of tall grass still braving the winter wind, suggesting that in warmer weather, the grass grew tall all around the tree, touching the hanging branches and creating a lovely enclosed herbaceous grotto, where one, or preferably two, could hide unnoticed for hours.

"There's another divot in the lawn that needs to be filled in. Make a note of that, Otto."

"Yes, miss."

Duo panicked. Hiding accommodation for one would have to do. He ducked down behind a clump of tall grass just as the owners of the disembodied voices came marching up over the hill.

"We ought to have some locals scan the grounds for rocks as well. I'd hate to have one of the horses trip or throw a shoe because the estate was ill-prepared."

"I'll organize it, m'lady, as soon as I've seen to repairing the fences."

Duo held his breath, crouched down into a tight ball and prayed for them to walk away as quickly as they had appeared. He stared straight down at the ground, studying the leaves and dirt in nauseating detail, until two shadows slowly closed in on the spot he was looking at. Remembering with a wince that the red plaid blanket was _outside_ his coat instead of inside, he lifted his guilty head, ready to be acknowledged as the garish striped beacon that he was. Otto and Relena were staring down at him.

"Heh...you've got the most _fascinating_ bugs out here in the country, did you know that?"

"Get up!" the girl shouted. Duo scrambled to his feet and scooted backwards a step, clutching at the blanket and expecting to feel Otto's meaty hand on the scruff of his neck as he was unceremoniously escorted out. Relena folded her arms around her thick winter coat and scowled. "How _dare_ you show your face here! I should have you hauled away for trespassing!"

"Now that's not fair, there are other people wandering around this place and you're not giving _them_ grief!" Duo whined.

Relena strode forward, eyes blazing, just about pinning Duo to the tree. "That's because none of _them_ are trying to morally corrupt my future husband!"

Duo swallowed, his gaze darting between the pair. "So, Heero's alright? He's not sick or anything?"

"I don't see that he's any concern of yours," the girl sniffed.

"He's my friend! I have a right to know how he's doing!"

"He's doing just _fine_," Relena spat back. "He's relaxed, he's fit, he's perfectly happy, and he most certainly doesn't want _you_ nosing around and ruining everything for him!"

Duo flinched backwards, looking hurt, and glanced desperately at Otto for confirmation. As yet, the burly house steward didn't have all the facts of the situation and really didn't want to take sides in the argument. He just stood there rather stiffly, trying to politely ignore all the fuss in true British fashion. Duo turned back to his employer with doe eyes. "Five minutes. Just gimmie five minutes to talk to him. _Please_."

Relena's chilling stare showed no signs of warming up at his helplessness. "I shall give you five minutes to get off my land, Mr. Maxwell, and if you're not gone by then, I'll set the dogs on you."

As she whirled around and stalked daintily in the opposite direction, Otto leaned to his right and proved that he was listening after all. "M'lady, we don't have any dogs."

Relena sighed, exasperated. "Do I have to think of everything? We're hosting a hunt in less than a month's time, there must be _dozens_ of foxhounds in the neighbourhood! Borrow some!"

They walked swiftly away, and only Otto tossed a confused look of semi-concern over his shoulder at Duo, who leaned against the willow tree, wondering how much truth there was in Relena's words. _Could he really be happier without me? Is that why he hasn't answered any of my letters? ...no, I'd be a pretty lousy friend if I didn't trust him more than that. Something else must be going on..._

"Some piece of work," a snide baritone voice said from behind him. Duo yelped in surprise and jumped away from the tree, spinning around with his arms already raised in a defensive blocking position. He was more than bewildered to see a strange, bespectacled man leaning halfway out from behind the massive tree trunk, with poor clothes, a smouldering pipe, and thick grey hair that billowed out from his head like the cap of a giant mushroom. His voice would have been closer described as American than British. "So that's the infamous Lady Peacecraft, eh? Quite a resemblance...hair and eyes, anyway. Don't know about the attitude..."

"Who are you?" Duo asked on a reflex.

The mushroom-haired man looked at Duo and grinned through his moustache, as if seeing him for the first time. "Giorgenson's the name," he said, stepping out from behind the tree and extending a hand.

Duo hesitated, then walked up and clasped the hand timidly. "Maxwell."

Giorgenson nodded. "_Duo_ Maxwell, isn't it? I do believe I've seen your picture in the paper!"

A faint smile of pride teased at Duo's lips, and with good reason; it was only a small local edition, anyway. "Really? Cool! I didn't know they delivered that paper this far south!"

The old man's moustache twitched above his grin. "They don't. I just have...connections. Pity the photo didn't show your hair. Most unusual, that is." While Duo automatically pulled his braid over his shoulder and preened at it lovingly, the old man pressed on. "I see you're having difficulty getting into that young lady's house...something about her not letting you in to see your friend? I hope you don't mind my accidentally overhearing, but that was only due to the fact that I was deliberately listening to every word."

Using his natural street urchin instincts, Duo could tell right away that this was a pretty tricky customer. "Yeah, well...thanks for your concern, but I've got it covered. The whole thing's pretty complicated, anyway, you'd probably get a headache from it."

Giorgenson's grin grew much wider. "A headache? Grand! Lewis Carroll had a migraine when he wrote 'Alice in Wonderland'! If you tell me all your troubles and give me a real blinder right between the eyes, maybe I'll discover another planet or cure the common cold! Lay it on me!"

Giorgenson folded his arms and leaned against the tree, ready to receive, and Duo couldn't help but laugh a bit, but he wasn't giving out details that easily. "Well, I'm sure you could achieve the same effect by getting plastered. Pub's that way." He pointed in the direction of the village and began walking away.

"Suppose I could get you inside."

Duo stopped. The old man's voice was clear and confident, and it really didn't sound like he was bluffing. Inch by inch, Duo turned around and looked him straight in the shiny round spectacles. "Are you serious?"

Giorgenson pushed himself off the tree and walked past Duo, tapping the side of his hawk-like nose in a sign of secrecy and heading south. Duo followed out of voracious curiosity, and the two of them hiked for a good ten minutes across the grounds until they came upon a cluster of cottages. A gruff-looking character was stacking wooden crates just outside, and Giorgenson strode up to talk to him with a very neighbourly 'How do!'

Beyond the initial greeting, Duo's ears couldn't decipher a single speck of what was said, for both old men lapsed into a rough, guttural country dialect that was in every way worse than the thickest Cockney Duo had encountered on the streets of London. It was only English in the most academic sense. After much discussion and several glances in Duo's direction, Giorgenson shook the man's hand and walked back over to his young acquaintance; he wore a look of triumph as he grinned and rubbed his hands together briskly. "It's all fixed!" he declared.

Duo blinked numbly. "What's fixed?"

"The natives are friendly! Him and his missus work on the home farm belonging to this estate. They'll let you stay here awhile until you get yourself sorted out with your friend and her Ladyship, and they've even agreed not to tell anyone you're here. C'mon in!" Giorgenson spun around and led Duo by the arm into the man's cottage, exchanging nods with the farmhand, who came in after and spoke to his wife in the same colourful gibberish. Giorgenson chatted to them a while longer and turned to Duo again. "As long as you have some kind of useful skill to help around the house, they don't mind how long you stay. What can you do, kid?"

There was really only one answer. "I can cook..."

"Fabulous!" Giorgenson crowed. "They'd like a double order of Belgian waffles for breakfast tomorrow, and I'll have a Spanish omelette if you can manage it." He smirked once, then slapped Duo in the shoulder and bolted off to the side. "Guest rooms are this way!"

Duo could only give a bewildered smile of gratitude to the genial couple as he was pulled deeper into the cottage. It was a darling little place, with several extra bedrooms that didn't seem to be in use; the couple living there were middle-aged, so Duo guessed that their children were all grown and gone, and that they'd be glad of some young company. To the chef, it felt like a suspiciously good opportunity; he had sworn that he wouldn't go back to London without seeing Heero, and if he couldn't manage it that day, at least he'd have a roof over his head and a place to sleep. Almost too good to be true.

At the moment, he wasn't overly concerned with the timing of his good fortune; he was much too preoccupied with who this bizarre Giorgenson person was and why he was so keen to help him stay close to Heero. Suspicion and curiosity were having a fierce battle inside him, and neither one was winning.

Duo was shown into a nice little room with its own fireplace and a comfy sitting area. The plump farmhand's wife scurried in to light a fire for the boy, who gratefully started peeling off his outer layers of clothing to coax the warm air closer to his frigid skin. He sat in front of the fire in only his shirt and trousers, rolled up his sleeves, took off his shoes and socks, and wiggled his toes to restore the nerve endings to working order. Just as he undid the first two buttons of his shirt to adjust the silver chain around his neck, for he preferred the clasp to be centred at the back, Giorgenson came up close behind him and spoke quietly. "Stand up a minute."

Duo looked up, then stood, still keeping close to the fire. The mushroom-haired man relit his pipe and looked him over, up and down. Next, he made a quick swirling motion with his left hand. "Turn around." Again, Duo obliged, but with much confusion, looking wide-eyed at the old man as he seemed to be making a detailed visual record of his boyish physique.

After completing a full circle and receiving no explanation for it, Duo looked down at his partially-dressed self and back up at Giorgenson. "_What_?"

Giorgenson inhaled slowly, lost in his thoughts for a moment. "Mon frère," he began regally, "you are going to succeed where I once failed. I can feel it, right down to the soles of my shoes...you will achieve something I never could...pulling a human soul back from the brink of living death." He puffed on his pipe a few more times as Duo squinted at him. "You'll also be shorter, but we're no more than what the Good Lord made us."

Duo shook his head dizzily. "I don't understand."

"Never mind that, now, never mind that," Giorgenson said quickly, waving it off and glancing at his watch, "I've got to be going soon, actually. I've got errands to run all over the place, so I'll see you in about a week's time, and then I'll tell you more. Till then, _stay_ in the cottage, _don't_ go out for any reason, and no matter how much it stings, resist the temptation to go running up to that big house like Sherman charging on Dixie to see Heero. Believe me, I know it hurts, but at this stage, it's not worth jeopardizing the mission." With that, he whirled around and strode quickly out of the room. Duo nearly fell over from shock.

"Wait a minute!" the boy shouted, running after him. A million fires of astonishment spontaneously ignited inside his brain all at once. What did he know? Where did he come from? He chased the man all the way out the front door, calling after him. "What do you mean!? What do you know about the mission!?" He stopped at the door, remembering the warning not to set foot outside the cottage, but he was still far enough outside to be standing barefoot in the snow, shaking...not from the cold, but from fear. The strange man walking rapidly away from the cottage _knew_ Heero, knew about his profession and his purpose, and that made Duo very frightened. "_Who are you!?_" he hollered at the finish.

Giorgenson was either too far away to hear him over the wind, or chose not to answer; Duo guessed it was the latter. Shivering all over, he slowly turned and padded back into the cottage, heading straight for his adopted room where his warm plaid blanket was. He wrapped himself up in it and sat down in front of the fire again, hearing Giorgenson's words echo to infinity. _I've got a really creepy feeling about that guy...but he said he'd be back to tell me more. I'd better be here when he decides to show up...if he decides to show up._

He heard a shuffling noise to his right, and looked up. The local couple who had taken him in were standing in his new bedroom doorway, smiling at him. He got up off the floor, folded his blanket and set it neatly on the bed, and they were still there, smiling. He put his socks, shoes, and waistcoat back on, and they were still there, smiling. Lastly, he walked out past them to take a look at their kitchen, and every time he looked up, they were right there, smiling.

_Uh huh._ He smiled back. _That's really creepy feeling number two..._ Duo had to get on with earning his keep, so he began taking inventory of the nice couple's pantry. All the while, they were standing just off to the side, smiling at him. Duo smiled back again. _Well...at least he was right about the natives being friendly._ And so, after bugging his eyes out at the pantry door, he went straight to work.

**********  
  


When Heero went out for his usual walk from the country house to the golden, glittering land of abject escapism, the mood on the estate was different than the day before. Relena had been tailing him all day long, throwing him wide-eyed glances of anticipation...but what could she have been waiting for? Heero couldn't fathom it, and didn't care to try, choosing instead to run away for the evening, turning up the collar of his long black overcoat against the wind.

He retraced a route similar to the one he took the day he bumped into Marcus, and in spite of his best efforts to forget life in general, it all came rushing back to him, and he suddenly felt worse for remembering the predicament he was in. Months ago, when faced with doubts about himself, his performance, the mission, or anything in between, all he needed to do was take out the little slip of paper he always carried, on which was written the five-phrase mantra given to him by Lord Jeffrhyss. It was designed to focus and calm him, but it hadn't worked properly for a long time. Heero slowed to a halt facing west, near a familiar clearing with no buildings or wooded areas, and took out the piece of paper one more time, desperate for consolation. He unfolded it from his pocket and read his master's words with steady eyes and a clear mind.

_

'Peace comes from harmony. Harmony comes from oneness. Oneness comes from obedience.  
Obedience brings about order. Order brings about peace.

_

Nothing happened. He felt no rush of serenity, no balancing of his mental gyroscope, and none of the other benefits that Jeffrhyss had touted year after year. The words left him feeling just as dead inside, and just as desperate to hang onto something vague and shapeless that he couldn't identify. He was now defenceless against whatever it was that was chipping away at his efficiency; he knew it couldn't be the strange substances Jeffrhyss was forcing on him, because he had already adapted to the new mixture, and the initial symptoms had gone.

The sun was setting on a less than pleasant day, and he stood in the same spot, deep into the front grounds, watching the fiery orb sink below the horizon. While the sky in the west was still faintly streaked with brightest blue and deepest purple, he held the paper up to eye-level and tore it, slowly and mechanically rending it into thumbnail-sized scraps and tucking each piece into his palm. When the cyclical words were no more than confetti, he stretched out his arm and opened his hand to the wind, letting the winter breeze catch the pieces and scatter them beyond his field of vision. When the last scrap disappeared, he put his hands back in his pockets and stood there awhile longer, until the sky was starry and black.

The next gust of wind that brushed delicately against Heero's back carried with it something unexpected, something that made him look up with hope for the first time in days--the sweet scent of a home-cooked meal. _If I didn't know better...I'd swear that was Duo's turkey noodle casserole._ It could have been a hallucination, or even wishful thinking, but he knew Duo's cooking better than a Smith and Wesson catalogue, and even though reason told him it was highly unlikely, something in him that was stronger than reason truly wanted to believe in the heavenly aroma wafting on the breeze.

_...nonsense. Duo is miles away. It's only my imagination._ As soon as he convinced himself that he could just smell someone else's turkey noodle casserole somewhere on the estate, he felt awful again, especially since he'd probably missed dinner. Not knowing what to do next, he headed back to the house.

**********  
  


All of the rooms for use by the family at Sutherby Hall were lovely in every conceivable way, and any one of them should have brought a smile to one girl's face, but it was a wasted effort. Relena sat alone in a parlour close to the centre of the house, staring blankly into the fire. The most romantic day of the year was almost over and she had stuck to Heero like glue hoping for some small gesture, some token of his affection to settle her disturbed mind, but nothing came. She wasn't just hurt, she was devastated, and for the first time, she was having serious doubts about her forthcoming marriage.

_How could he be so blind as to ignore such an important day in our relationship!? Doesn't he think!? Doesn't he care!? I waited all day for something, anything, even a kind word...or a smile..._ She was beginning to realize that she would wait in vain. It was worse than Heero simply not being of an affectionate nature, now he was being downright cruel.

_When Marcus came to my window, I didn't think it would be the nicest part of my day...he really knows how to treat a lady._

She looked down at the glimmering diamond ring on her finger and twirled it around; she was rapidly slipping down the steep slope towards complete despondency, but she would not cry. Now she was too angry to cry. She deserved better than this sort of treatment from her betrothed, and was determined to know why he had changed. _I'm going to give him until the Hunt Ball to make up his mind what he wants, and if he isn't ready to commit by then...well...I don't know what I'll do...Uncle Treize is coming home tomorrow. Maybe he'll know._

Relena sat in front of the fire for the rest of the night, having instructed that she wished to be left alone, unless Heero came to see her, which he didn't. As the hours ticked by, she barely even noticed that her wandering thoughts were moving farther from Heero and closer to Marcus.

**********  
  


Trowa, Quatre, and Hilde were becoming quite used to travelling in a pack, united in their new goal of discovering the reasons behind Heero's recent behaviour. When Quatre sensed that the ex-butler was headed back to the house, they all flocked to his point of entry, the kitchen. The trio stood in a far-off doorway and observed Heero tramping into the kitchen and going straight to the pantry; he seemed to be looking for something, albeit disinterestedly, and finally found a chocolate layer cake sitting innocently on the counter. Soon Heero, the cake, and a fork were all sitting at the kitchen table together, and he began munching away at it as if in a trance.

The trio briefly discussed which of them should go talk to him, for a Heero in a bad mood was a dangerous animal. One round of paper-rock-scissors decided that Trowa was the 'winner', and he cringed as he walked into the kitchen and took a chair opposite Heero at the large wooden table. The boy's mood looked even worse close-up than it did at a distance as he picked away at the cake, and it honestly made Trowa a little bit nervous. Somehow sensing that he needed backup, Shadow leapt out of nowhere and sat on the table between them.

Trowa watched Heero for a full minute, during which he wasn't acknowledged. "So.....how's it going?"

Heero shrugged and kept toying with his dinnerless dessert. It was lopsided, irregularly frosted, and wouldn't have been at all appetizing if it weren't chocolate. Clearly a crime against cuisine perpetrated by Elsie; still, just being a chocolate cake made it something Duo would have pounced on had he been present.

"...cake any good?"

"Terrible," Heero said flatly. He continued nibbling, as if the quality didn't matter.

Trowa watched a few more forkfuls disappear; Heero's head hung over the cake and the fork dangled limply when it wasn't in use. He didn't look at all well. "If it's that bad, why are you still eating it?"

Heero shrugged again. "I don't know. I'm not even hungry." Another forkful vanished, and he scowled slightly. "Duo could have done much better."

Now Trowa longed to steer him away from a touchy subject, and looked around the kitchen for a distraction, finally noticing that there was something different about Shadow. She was wearing a pretty new collar of black satin with a tiny silver bell hanging from a loop of red thread. Trowa drew Heero's attention to the collar and raised both eyebrows. "That's nice...where'd she get it?"

Heero swallowed the mouthful he was working on and seemed to brighten as he looked over at the little grey cat. "I bought it for her in the village this morning. I was just there killing time, really...and a woman in one of the shops asked me if I was looking for something to give to 'a special girl' in my life. I wasn't sure what she meant, so I thought about it for a while, and...well...Shadow's a girl..." He finished with another shrug and started back in on the cake.

Trowa looked to the side and bit his lip. Heero didn't know about Valentine's Day. _Should I tell him? .......nah._ "It's...very nice."

"Is there something strange about today?" Heero asked, frowning and waving his fork in the air. "Everyone seems to be acting differently, not just here, but in town. Have I missed something?"

"Well...uh..." Trowa cleared his throat, struggling for words. "There are just some days when everyone wants to do something nice for someone they love...it's not that unusual, just a widespread, simultaneous show of affection profited from by the chocolatiers and the greeting card industry. I wouldn't worry about it."

"Have you done anything differently today?" Heero asked innocently.

Trowa's eyes sprang wide open, and he stopped halfway to looking over his shoulder to where the other two members of his team were hiding in the shadows. "N-no," he stammered, turning a bit rosy around the ears, "I wouldn't even know _what_ to do...or if I _should_ do anything...and the day's almost over, too...hm..." His tone of voice drooped sadly, and his shoulders slumped forward. Suddenly, a light bulb flipped on in his brain, and he saw why a perfectly normal, healthy, intelligent person such as Heero would sit in the dankest room of a fabulous house, eating himself into a diabetic coma. Trowa got up, walked over to the cutlery drawer, got himself a fork, and dropped into the chair on Heero's right. They were both taking chunks out of the second-rate cake now, with the exact same depressingly blank expression on their faces.

Watching from the far-off doorway, Quatre shook his head. _Rescuers aren't supposed to join forces with the victims!_ He could feel their sorrow, but could also tell that only one of them knew what was wrong; Heero was just down and didn't know why, but something specific must have just happened to upset Trowa. _I suppose I'll have to talk to both of them now._

Just then, Trowa said something to Heero and got up from the table, walking back to Quatre and Hilde's hiding place. The petite housemaid was gone. He looked to either side of the blond boy and whispered, "Where'd she go?"

"Got bored and went to bed," Quatre whispered back. "She really didn't like seeing Heero so miserable anyway, I could tell. Did you find out what's wrong with him?"

"Um, not totally," Trowa said quickly. He scratched the back of his head nervously, feeling his ears getting redder by the second. "Listen...do you wanna, maybe...go sit out on the terrace and do some stargazing with me? It's a clear night tonight, so I could show you some constellations...and maybe some old navigation tricks from my navy days...what do you think?"

"I'd _love_ that!" Quatre gasped excitedly.

Trowa paled and smiled at once. "Really?" The other boy nodded, smiling as well. Within minutes, they had forgotten all about Heero and were heading to the front hall to fetch their coats before spending some quality time together under the stars.

At the kitchen table, Shadow had begun playing with her catnip mouse, and Heero had tired of the mediocre cake. He shoved the remnants aside and drummed his fingers on the tabletop briefly. _If Duo were here, he'd think of something ridiculous to do._ Uncounted minutes slipped by, and no ideas came to him; somehow he expected that. Without the random element Duo brought into his life, he just couldn't function, and as he consciously realized this, he gradually became ready to accept that he missed his little brown mouse.

Once again displaying her prowess for reading Heero's mind, Shadow padded up to him with the tail of her catnip mouse between her teeth and set it down next to his folded hands. She looked at him sympathetically, and he picked her up right away, cuddling her against his chest as she purred with contentment. "Wrong mouse," Heero said quietly, "but just what I needed all the same." Shadow meowed.

Only a few hundred yards away, from his borrowed bed in the farmhands' cottage, the real brown mouse curled up on his left side and stared out the window at the stars, wrapped snugly in his plaid woolen blanket. At the edge of sleep, he mumbled into his pillow, already dreaming that Heero was beside him. 

"...love you..."

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Thirty-Eight: Giorgenson returns to Duo's cottage with information, the amount of which and the nature of which will slam a bolt of lightning squarely into the centre of Duo's world._

*hearts flying around head* =^-^= Sweetness! Okay, so certain people didn't get _together_ for Valentine's Day, but at least they're in the same county now! Yay! And I know I used some words and phrases that really don't belong in 1902 (heck, I just do that sometimes because it sounds good--it's called poetic license) and Rachel really fought me on "broadcast", but dammit, I wanted it. *tears billowing out from side of face in giant waterfalls* This whole pairs figure skating thing has just put me in a really pissy mood, and I took some liberties with the language in this episode to make me feel better. And I do. =^-^= Somewhat. Whee. So anywho, mark down February 23rd for the next Episode. Now, go forth into the world and spread love! =^o^=


	38. Breaking Point

**Disclaimer:** In a town called Perfect where there's a Walgreen's on every street corner, every author and authoress has their own set of Gundam pilots to love and to squeeze and to show off to all their friends. But we don't live anywhere near Perfect. *realizes she just ripped off a commercial to explain that she's not ripping off a tv show* Dangit.

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Thirty-Eight: Breaking Point

_"As lightning to the children eased with explanation kind,  
The truth must dazzle gradually, or every man be blind." ~Emily Dickenson_

February 23rd, 1902

It began as a very bleak morning on the ferry to the Isle of Wight, and the boat was practically empty except for two lost souls leaning on the cracked paint of the steel railing. A woman in a gray cotton dress, the taller of the two, was picking away at the paint with one hand and lazily knocking flakes of varying sizes into the water below. Her companion, a dark-haired boy wearing an equally dark suit, leaned his folded arms against the railing right next to her, watching the specks of paint flitter down and float away.

Noin was sent to fetch Heero every few days, as he was no longer even trusted to make the journey to Jeffrhyss' compound on his own. Over time as they travelled, they talked, just a little at first, but the more time they spent together, the more they were able to open up. Without getting into details, each knew the other was missing someone badly, someone they cared very deeply about, but they also knew there was nothing to be done about it.

"So...is he blackmailing you too?" Noin asked, her eyes pointed down at the railing.

"After a fashion," Heero replied dully.

Noin shook her head once, sharply, and pushed herself away from the rail in frustration. "I don't get it. I mean, I can see how I got _myself_ into this mess, but you look too young to have gotten into any decent trouble in life, and certainly nothing worth all this effort! I don't understand the hold he has over you..."

Heero massaged his wrists, very discreetly, thinking back over several years; rarely a day or night went by during his training when he didn't have something clamped tightly around those thin wrists. "In my case, any blackmail is nothing more than a warning. As for the rest...this is the way it's always been. There is no other way for me."

"You can't tell me that if you had the opportunity to leave, you wouldn't _take_ it," Noin said.

"It'll never happen."

"But suppose it _did_...would you really stay with this life just because it's the only one you've ever known?" She stepped up to the railing beside him and leaned out over the water by the same amount.

Heero had to admit he felt strangely at ease with Lucrezia, in a kind of fractured, big sister way. He'd already told her a few things he'd never told anyone else, and she'd done the same; being victims of the same tyrant turned out to be a fabulous icebreaker. "_If_...if there was a crack in his wall big enough for daylight to break through...you wouldn't see me for dust."

Noin smiled and nudged her shoulder against his. "See? You _do_ have something to live for. I kept telling you, but you wouldn't believe me." She saw a rare and lovely glimmer of hope in his eyes before it disappeared back behind the stony mask, and on some level, she understood. _Maybe you're like me, and you've got someone to live for. To put up with this kind treatment, she must be really special._ "That's what keeps _me_ going...thinking about what I'll have once I figure out an escape. I know it won't be easy, but what's waiting for me on the outside looks so good, I've stopped caring about the risks."

"If you can ignore the risks, you have no idea what they are." Heero left the railing and walked a few paces away, turning to face the rapidly shrinking mainland. "No one gets out. I've seen what happens to those who try, so there's no point in dwelling on some 'other life' we can never have. At least we have a purpose, even if we didn't choose it."

Noin folded her arms and paced the deck of the ship, deflated. The boy was still very much a puzzle to her in many respects, and he seemed so mechanical and machine-like at times that she almost couldn't imagine him doing anything else besides travelling back and forth for his instructions. _He's nothing without his instructions. He wouldn't know what to do with himself._ "Well...for what it's worth, if I ever find a way out, I'll gladly take you with me."

"...likewise," Heero said without turning around.

In a short while, the ferry crossed the last bit of water to the tiny island, and the pair marched ashore in an orderly fashion. As they made their way from the docks to the outskirts of town where there was always a private carriage waiting for them, they both had the same thing on their minds: _I know it's impossible...but I still want out._

**********  
  


From a technical aspect, it was much easier cooking for three people than for an entire household including servants, but that was little comfort during the days that Duo would count among the most boring he had ever suffered. With the understanding that he couldn't contact Heero without putting him at risk, and also the promise he made to himself not to return to Bridlewood without seeing him, he spent nine hours a day cooking and sleeping, and the other fifteen hours thinking about how bored he was.

The couple he was staying with, polite though they were, didn't provide much help. He couldn't make out a word they said, and all they ever did while he was in the room was smile those dopey smiles at him. Duo didn't ask pointless questions; he just cooked three square meals a day to keep up his end of the agreement, resigned to never knowing exactly what their end entailed. That morning he was tackling the monumental task of beating his personal best number of playing cards tossed into a hat from five feet away. The strain was almost unbearable.

_Up next, to defend his world title, Maxwell of the United States,_ the announcer said over the loudspeaker in his head. He sat cross-legged on the bed in his borrowed room, with an upturned hat sitting on the floor; the extra height that was added from sitting on the bed raised the degree of difficulty, which also raised his maximum possible style points. _Scandal continues to swirl around this competitor as he pursues his eighth consecutive championship, while avoiding the hordes of reporters that have hounded him since these games began. Will his final score suffer as a result of his alleged 'relationship' with the Japanese judge?_

He began tossing cards at the hat, revelling in the cheers of the crowd when he hit his target, and sinking with their collective groans when he missed. After fifty-one cards, he stood tied with his previous score. _With this last throw, Maxwell can secure his rightful position as Card Flip Champion of the Universe. And who's that standing on the sidelines!? Why, it's the judging representative from Japan, thumbing his nose at the league's suspension and preparing to congratulate the champion with a laurel wreath and the kiss of victory!!_

As Duo threw the final card, there was a knock at the door. He missed. _Damn._ "Who is it?"

"Clio, the muse of history!" a man's voice answered proudly.

Duo squinted, stood, and walked up beside the door, but didn't open it. "You don't sound like a muse."

The door opened a crack, and Giorgenson's grinning face appeared. "Alright, I'm not, but I know _all_ her guilty little secrets, so I feel safe in speaking for her." His grin widened as Duo looked more befuddled. "Get your coat on! It's a beautiful day outside!"

Duo left the mess of playing cards all over the floor and followed him instantly, hopping on one foot and then the other as he put on his boots in transit. In less than a minute, he was jogging out the front door after the man, unwilling to wait another heartbeat for the information he'd been promised so many days ago.

It was indeed a beautiful day outside, heralding the imminent extinction of winter and the emergence of spring, allowing Duo to venture out with only his brown tweed jacket. Giorgenson knew precisely when the boy had caught up to him without looking, and began the dialogue. "As promised, here I am. What would you like to know, m'boy?"

Duo had assumed the man would only be telling him the least valuable of his secrets, as any good strategist would do; he hadn't expected it to be a question-and-answer period. "Geez...I don't know what to ask first.....is Heero alright? I haven't talked to him in weeks, and I hate not knowing what's going on with him."

Giorgenson chuckled. "The bulk of what I know could shatter the establishments of half the civilized nations of the world, and all you want to know is how your friend's doing. That's touching, son, it really is." He paused to light his pipe as they walked south-westward across the grounds. "Heero's fine, for the moment, but I won't lie to you...I've seen him look better."

_Fine for the moment,_ Duo repeated in his mind. The professionalism he had osmosed from Heero took this as a green light to collect information now and worry later. "How do you know him? He's never mentioned you once, even though...I mean.....do you work for..."

"Do I work for Jeffrhyss?" the old man finished. He took note of the way Duo's eyes bulged in slight fear of the name, and seemed to instantly understand how much the boy already knew. "No, I'm just a long-time acquaintance, and Heero's never mentioned me for the very good reason that he doesn't know me. I'm fairly sure that he's never laid eyes on me while in a state of total lucidity." They came upon a sparse wooden fence once used to pen in sheep, and perched on top of it side by side, facing a lovely stretch of rolling hills that were straining to turn green in the alien sunshine.

There were a million things Duo wanted to know, but he could not, for the life of him, get his thoughts together in a straight line. They wouldn't even stand together in a ragged clump, for all the begging he did. Finally, he squashed all his doubts and longings into one vague, hopeful question, unsure if it would be enough. "What's it all about? Why.....why is his life so messed up? Why can't he be anything more than somebody's puppet instead of having a normal life like the rest of us poor slobs?"

Giorgenson took a few puffs of his pipe and just enjoyed the morning sun for a bit while he sorted out his memories. "Personally, I wouldn't tell any of this to Heero, for his own safety, and there are a few things I'd rather say in front of _both_ of you, but...I don't see why you shouldn't hear at least part of the story...if you _really_ want to know..."

"Oh, I _do_," the boy answered earnestly. "I don't know how else I can help him."

Giorgenson nodded. "Well, I suppose I should begin at the beginning...with Jeffrhyss. He wasn't always a bitter, twisted megalomaniac, you know...we met when we were twelve years old and still full of youthful enthusiasm. It was 1861. Our families each owned property on either side of a line that became the border between Virginia and West Virginia. Now, what was special about that time and place? Can you tell me?"

Pop quiz time. Though he'd never spent a day in school, there were some things Duo made it his business to know, particularly about American history. His eyes went vacant and he clutched the fencepost directly to his right. "...the war...you both lived through the _Civil War_?"

"There's a good lad. You know your history." Judging solely by his tone of voice, the man was neither pleased nor displeased, despite praising his student. "When the line was drawn, I was in the North and he was in the South. We spotted each other one summer day, looking out from our forty-acre backyards and feeling sorry for ourselves. Our home life wasn't very homey, no brothers, no sisters...no friends...parents who were always too busy...plus the added bonus of the world falling to pieces all around us. We just clicked, probably because we had all the same things to complain about.

"It started out well enough, as friendships go...long walks in the wilderness, whittling wood, skipping stones, criminal mischief under ten dollars...you know, the usual. We were happy until our parents found out and started forcing their opposing views about the war on us...'you can't be his friend because his half of the country is oppressing our half of the country,' that sort of thing. After awhile, we started listening to their points of view, and debated those points faithfully every day, but we were still friends. During the course of the war, we were both orphaned, our families and homes wiped out, and by then we needed each other, even though we were becoming opposites as we grew up. I got silly and he got sullen, almost overnight. One day I looked at him and realized he was everything I was missing in myself...he was strong, and brave, and confident, and a dozen other things." Giorgenson took a long draw of his pipe, staring at the horizon. "And he was beautiful. And he didn't give a damn about it."

Duo fastened his eyes on the side of his head in shock and seemed to shrink within himself. _I didn't just hear that. I wasn't listening. I couldn't have been listening. I did not hear him describe me and Heero. I didn't. Oh man..._

"You can see why I don't mind telling you, because I know you've been there," Giorgenson said matter-of-factly. "You're _still_ there, actually. Don't ask how I know, I just do. Anyway, Heero really shouldn't be burdened with screwball things like this in his present state."

"Yeah...sure..." Duo swallowed twice, wondering whether or not he wanted to stay and hear the rest. A second later, he wondered if he was even safe in the man's presence anymore.

"I don't want you to be alarmed either, son. How I felt about Jeffrhyss then is immaterial to either one of us now, and it should be immaterial to you too. Besides, it turned out to be just a phase for me...I was quite the ladykiller in later years." He let the pipe rest on his knee awhile, smirking, and at the same time could sense Duo relax considerably next to him. "The point is, I had a chance, however brief, to turn him around, and I couldn't manage it. We saw a lot of terrible things during the war, and he let it all get to him so badly...maybe if he'd felt _wanted_ by someone, he wouldn't have been such a fatalist, but we...just couldn't seem to communicate on that level, and I lost him. In '64, a little while after his fifteenth birthday, he told me he was going to enlist.

"For _hours_, I tried to talk him out of it, and the subject of...shall we say, _affection_ almost came up about a dozen times, but never quite made it to the surface. I didn't know if he was running away from what I couldn't bring myself to tell him, or if he was waiting to hear the words that never came, but in the end, he got his way, like he always did. Left the next morning, to join the Confederate army, I presumed.

"I didn't see him again until the last days of the war, and by then, there was a lot less of him to see, having lost three-fourths of his limbs in battle. All he had left was one good arm, and _that_ was taken up with a crutch. God knows why, but he came to see me. I was part-owner of a bar in Washington then, a young gadabout with a different girl on my arm every night. I'd moved on...and then he hobbled into the place expecting...well...to this day I don't know _what_ he was expecting, but once he saw that I was doing brilliantly without him, he refused to tell me what he came for, and I never really bought the 'old times sake' excuse. Still, we had something of a history between us, so we officially got back in touch." Even as the subject of the conversation turned morose, the old man's tone remained light and flippant, as if none of it mattered anymore.

"Now...I know for a fact that every man has a breaking point, some lower on the temperature scale than others." Giorgenson paused, relit his neglected pipe, and let the thought dangle there for awhile. "I remember the exact place, date, and time that he reached his breaking point. April 14th, 1865. The last day Jeffrhyss ever smiled."

Duo squinted and searched his memory quickly. He _knew_ that date was important for some reason, but what?

"We really painted the town," Giorgenson reminisced with a smirk. "Sightseeing, fancy dinner, a night at the theatre, and not having any legs left didn't seem to slow him down one bit. Seeing me again actually made him happy, and I guess I was flattered. Seeing him again did something to me too, but we just picked the wrong night to stir any dying embers into a flame. We managed to swing tickets to a play that everyone who was anyone had to see, and right before it began, we looked up...and there...in one of those red plush luxury boxes...was Abraham Lincoln."

Instantly, Duo remembered, and sank his head into one hand.

"I don't know if you can imagine what it's like having your president slaughtered by a mad gunman right in front of you, but it's not pleasant," Giorgenson said.

"I've got a vague idea," Duo mumbled miserably.

Giorgenson looked down at the slumping boy with his pipe clamped between his teeth, and made no mention of whether or not he knew of Duo's presence at the McKinley assassination. "Well...I don't have to paint you a picture. A shot rang out a little after ten o'clock, and my only friend died inside at the same time. What he didn't tell me until that moment, when I started yelling and screaming at him, asking if he was happy that his side finally won, was that he never enlisted with the Confederates...he decided that _my_ point of view was the correct one and joined the Union Army. He gave up an arm and two legs defending Lincoln's North, and had the cornerstone of his prize shot down just like that, and it all came flooding out into the open. He told me everything that happened to him while we were apart, all at once...it was humbling and horrifying, but, like I said, every man has a breaking point, and for him, that was it. The poor boy was made out of matchsticks...they'll either break or burn, but either way, they won't last long."

For one ten-thousandth of a second, Duo _almost_ felt sorry for Jeffrhyss--almost, but not quite. "So he went nuts. That doesn't excuse or even _explain_ what he did to Heero!"

"I'm not saying anything will excuse it, not in a million years, but Lincoln was the last straw," Giorgenson insisted. "That night was the catalyst that made him what he is. He was _tired_ of fate jerking him around, and resolved to spend every last drop of energy making sure that history turned out the way _he_ wanted it to. He was _obsessed_. His anger and bitterness made him intimidating, and he used that intimidation to accumulate power and wealth, and eventually an entire empire whose sole purpose remains the manipulation of world events. I'm _with_ you on this one, son...Heero's innocent in all this. He's just a pawn."

"Too right, he's a pawn!" Duo snorted. "He doesn't deserve this, you know, he's a _good person_. None of this is fair..."

"Now _that_ sounds familiar," the old man cackled. "Life is rarely fair and always irreversible. Heero can't change what was done to him, only how he lives in spite of it."

Duo looked up at his companion and swallowed a third time. "What did Jeffrhyss do to him?" he asked weakly. "And why didn't anyone stop it? How could he get away with this?"

"Well, as far as I've ever been told, Heero was an orphan too. He didn't have anyone to look after his best interests, and he was thousands of miles from home. Nobody's ever heard the full story of how a Japanese child suddenly appeared in Brussels with no legal guardian, but somehow it happened. The very next day, Jeffrhyss held a gathering of his contemporaries, myself included, to show off his latest catch. I was way at the back of the room when he hobbled in, holding the hand of a little four-year-old rugrat, and if I recall correctly, not long after the preliminary speeches, Heero got scared of the room full of weird old men speaking a dozen different languages, and started crying. It was pretty cute, and most of them had a good chuckle over it, but none of them thought Jeffrhyss was in his right mind.

"You see...being in the army taught Jeffrhyss that soldiers don't win wars. He enlisted with the mindset of being the perfect soldier, the one who could turn it all around, but the soldier is the absolute _lowest_ level of power in a conflict. _Real_ change happens at the top, and for that you need the perfect spy. He toiled for years with fifteen-year-old recruits, using all manner of mind-control and training techniques. It wasn't a stellar success...somewhere in the neighbourhood of a 60% suicide rate...and then, just when he came up with the brilliant hypothesis that if you start your subjects younger, they'll get used to the training faster, and will be less likely to rebel, this tiny, impressionable child drops down from the heavens right in front of him, practically gift-wrapped with a bow around his neck. He just couldn't turn down such a golden opportunity, and he brought Heero before us saying that he'd be the first test subject to begin training at such an early age, and crowing that fate was finally smiling on him."

Duo was beginning to wonder who all these 'contemporaries' were, but said nothing about it. "Look, I don't wanna sound ungrateful, since you're telling me all this for free, but why couldn't you do anything to stop it? You're so bent on helping me _now_, what was keeping you from helping Heero _then_?"

"Believe me, kiddo, I tried," the old man admitted. "Even with my connections, I couldn't get in to see what was going on. I've relied on third, fourth, and upwards of fifth-hand information up until now, so keeping tabs on him over the last twelve years hasn't been easy. No other recruit has received as much instruction, as much attention, or as many resources as Heero. He represents the largest, most extensive investment Jeffrhyss has ever made in a single subject, especially with all the added security around him. What _all_ this amounts to is that he sees Heero as his most valuable possession, his golden ticket to being the most powerful man on the globe. If this new method of training proves successful, the number of infant recruits will skyrocket, and his Lordship will be unstoppable...so you can see why he's not keen to give the boy up."

It made sense, and yet it didn't. If the end result was no actual change in Heero's situation, the entire conversation was pointless. Duo blinked rapidly and spread both hands out in front of him. "So?"

"So why are you here?"

"Wha...how can you _say_ that!?" Duo howled. "I thought you were on _my_ side! I thought you were gonna get me into the house to see him!"

"First," Giorgenson said, gesturing at the horizon with his pipe, "I want to hear you say _why_ you want to see him."

Duo pondered how he should answer; there seemed to be an object lesson at work, and as annoying as that was, he didn't was to miss the point. "I want to get him out of this spy business. I want him to get out from under that jerk's big fat thumb and have a normal life." _With me, preferably, but I'll take what I can get, for his sake._

"Even though you can't use the direct approach because her Ladyship will likely step in and muck up the mission, either by throwing him out or dragging him further away? She might even try to take him out of the country, and he couldn't say a word about it. Benidorm's nice this time of year..."

"Well...we'd figure something out..."

"Even though Heero would be letting Count Khushrenada slip through his fingers? Even though Jeffrhyss would chase you _both_ to the ends of the earth to hold you accountable?"

Duo hunched over the fencepost thinking; was this a test or was Giorgenson being serious? Did it even matter? He paced in mental circles around the kernel issue, around and around until the dizziness nearly knocked him off his wooden perch. There was no room for compromise anymore. "Yes. Absolutely. I don't care what it takes or what it costs us afterwards, it _has_ to be better than what he's got now. I'm going to get him out of this."

Giorgenson smiled in admiration. "Now _there's_ the stubborn streak I was hoping to find. That tells me you're serious about this, and for that, you shall be well rewarded." He suddenly hopped off the fence and stood in front of Duo, switching into lecturing mode. "I'll help you as much as I can, but you need to know what you're getting yourself and Heero into. See, as long as he's under orders from Jeffrhyss, that's not a house he's living in, it's a military base, subject to military rules. From Jeffrhyss' point of view, any attempt on your part to remove and detain one of his agents from the field would be a grave act of subversion, and he'd send someone to clean your clock, permanently. The assumption would be that Heero wouldn't _want_ to leave.

"Now, because of his rank, Heero _does_ have some discretionary power over his movements, but that doesn't mean you can just snatch him away. He has to make the conscious decision to leave the house now and deal with the consequences later. Basically, it comes down to him choosing you over the immediate needs of the mission. That way, he takes the heat as comfortably as possible and you remain an innocent civilian, got it?"

"I think so," Duo said, nodding faintly, "and I know I could convince him to leave if I had the chance, but how's anyone else gonna know whether he wants to come with me or not?"

"Don't go underestimating his Lordship," Giorgenson said, waving his pipe in the air. "There's hardly a square inch on this earth that he can't see. Eyes and ears everywhere. I wouldn't even trust that fence you're sitting on."

Duo involuntarily looked down at the fence timbers in horror before catching himself and glaring at the old man with a smirk. "So what do I do?"

Giorgenson puffed at his pipe and tilted his head just enough that the indirect sunlight laid flat against his round spectacles, obscuring his eyes. "For now, do nothing. Leave it with me for awhile, I'll think of something." Abruptly, he turned and walked a few steps away, then paused just as abruptly and turned to face Duo again. "Was I right in hearing her Ladyship say that she was holding a hunt ball in the near future?"

"Uh...she might've said..." Duo really wasn't sure; that day seemed to be miles away in his memory, and he couldn't retrieve it no matter how far he stretched.

"Mm." The old man nodded and walked away again, pausing a second time to make a hasty about-face. "Would you agree that the best place to hide a thing is with a whole flock of other things that look just like it?"

"Well...yeah, I suppose so...I knew a kid once with a favourite marble, and he hid it in this huge bag of other marbles so nobody could steal it. 'Course...he never figured out which one was his after that..."

"Mm-hm." Giorgenson nodded again, walked away a few paces, and spun around a third and final time. "What size clothes do you take?"

Duo's eyes narrowed into slits as the conversation turned strangely personal. Suspicion flooded his voice. "_Why?_"

"I said I'd think of something, and I think I've thought of something, and you'll co-operate like a good boy because I'm not going to tell you what it is, thereby _ensuring_ that you'll be _dying_ of curiosity by the time it happens, alright?" He stared the boy down for a moment, but he wasn't giving anything up. "Fine," he sighed, sizing Duo up with his eyes, "you look like a 29-inch waist to me. We might just find something appropriate to squeeze you into."

With that very cryptic remark, he turned and walked away, this time for keeps. Duo gripped the fencepost, swallowed yet again, and grappled with the inevitable conundrum that he _was_ dying of curiosity, even though a part of him really didn't want to know what Giorgenson meant. Really, _really_ didn't want to know. More unnerved than ever, he began walking slowly back to the farmhands' cottage. _Still, if it helps Heero...I should be willing to do just about anything._ As an afterthought, he frowned over his shoulder at the peculiar man, scoffing on the inside. _29 inches...hah! I've been 27-and-a-half for years, and I'm staying that way! Freak..._

**********  
  


"...couldn't I just have five minutes, Uncle Treize? I'm really worried, and I need to talk to someone."

Relena's plea fell on deaf ears as she followed her uncle in broad circles around the massive library. Since the day he returned from London, the Count was moody to the point of being downright truculent with everyone around him, and wouldn't stop moving, even to eat. He was constantly barrelling from one room to another, moving everything in it as if he was looking for something, muttering and scowling the entire time. "Not right now, dear." He was very busy at that moment, taking books off the shelves two at a time and weighing them in his hands.

"But Dorothy's already tired of listening to me complain, and I can't blame her for it," Relena moaned. "I _really_ need a gentleman's perspective on this problem with Heer--"

"_Don't_...say that name," Treize snapped, freezing with two books held in the air. He took a deep breath and resumed his odd rearrangement of the bookshelves, scowling much harder than before. The girl behind him made no further argument, feeling as though she'd already lost, and was about to lose all she had left. She turned and left the library as quietly as she had come, and in her wake, another blonde girl tiptoed in, much less likely to scurry away in defeat.

"She's right, I _am_ getting tired of listening to her moan about that boy, but I've also been stuck in this house with her for the last two weeks, and you haven't heard one syllable about it yet. You're past due!" Dorothy swept past him in an iridescent green dress and flung herself dramatically and stylishly into a red velvet wing chair near the spot where he stood. "You're _not_ still at it, are you?"

The Count grunted in annoyance and continued to feel all the books for weight. "I can't understand how he _did_ this to me!" Behind him, Dorothy sighed. Treize rambled on, unaware that the girl was simultaneously mouthing the words at the same pace, having committed them to memory over the last week. "We searched that house from top to bottom, emptied every cabinet, opened up every wall, tore the place apart floor by floor, and all we have to show for it is twenty-seven bars." As he whirled around in frustration, Dorothy snapped her miming mouth shut, smiled, and nodded quickly to indicate that she was paying attention. "_Twenty-seven_ bars of gold. What good is that going to do me? I was expecting _hundreds_ of the infernal things to be tucked away in that house, and now my men have to work triple overtime to repair the damage they caused looking for something that wasn't even there!"

Dorothy squirmed in her seat. She had never seen Treize actually angry before. Miffed, perhaps. Peeved, once in awhile. Angry? Never. "That doesn't mean it's been _here_ all the time, surely! Maybe Lord Peacecraft took it out of the walls and put it in a bank somewhere. He would have known you couldn't search the confidential records of every bank in England."

"It _has_ to be here," Treize whispered harshly. "If the gold isn't somewhere in _this_ house, it means that boy's hidden it on me. It means he's gotten the better of me. It means he's laughing at me this very moment. I can't be expected to listen to Relena nattering on and on about him when his is the _last_ existence I want to be reminded of right now." With a bit of thought, he stopped hefting the books around and put back the two he was holding. "No...he would've had to hollow out more than a thousand books to hide it in here. He wouldn't have had enough time..." His gaze drifted across the room to an unfortunate grandfather clock. "He could have fit a few in _there_..."

The Count dashed across the library, scooted the massive clock around to expose the back panel and started tugging at the edges in a manic state. Dorothy jumped out of her chair in a panic, ran over to him and slapped his hands away from the priceless antique. "Get ahold of yourself!" she shouted, and he actually drew back from her in surprise. "Look at the facts for a minute before you go tearing anything else to shreds! You _guessed_ that the Peacecraft gold was hidden in Bridlewood. You guessed wrong. Get over it! If it wasn't in the house all that time, it was probably long gone before we even _got_ to England. Until you have something solid to go on suggesting that the gold is in Hampshire instead, you might as well just admit that your plan was a failure and move on. There must be plenty of other family fortunes to plunder."

Treize eyed her suspiciously, as if wondering why she wasn't as worried about the loss of the gold as he was; after all, she needed it even more, and her share had disappeared right along with his. Luckily for her, he was too fired up to waste energy thinking about it, and launched into another tirade the likes of which she was all too familiar with. "This was the haul that could have cemented a _critical_ deal for me, and now there's a chance that someone else with greater influence and wealth will take my place. There's a deadline to be met! I simply don't have time to go hunting for another cache of this size! _This_ was the gold I needed!"

"So you keep saying," Dorothy moaned, "over and over and over..."

"He did this," Treize growled, beginning to pace the floor again. "Somehow, he did this, and now I'm going to have to have a long chat with our Mr. Yuy. I'll have to endure that smug smile while he taunts me with his success. A confrontation with the king of sore winners won't begin to describe it. I'm going to need several stiff drinks before going to look for him."

".......whatever." Dorothy tossed her hair over her shoulder and pranced away from the downtrodden Count. "Let me know when you're done. I could use some of that hot air to dry my hair after my bubble bath."

Treize simply snarled as she left.

**********  
  


It took Relena some time to realize that she hadn't run out of people to talk to. Dorothy didn't want to hear anymore, Treize was too busy, and she already knew what Otto would say, but she had ignored the other resources available to her. Before Heero came into her life, before all the confusion and uncertainty began, she had another friend, and she suddenly realized she had neglected his fine advice for too long. After Treize made it clear that he wasn't interested in her petty problems, she went looking for Quatre.

She collected enough tips from the rest of the staff to determine that he was in the conservatory, looking through the household collection of flower bulbs. As she neared the glass-enclosed room in the far corner of the house, she heard a girl's voice, intruding on the solitude she sought. "Well, I'm sorry, I can't help it if I think fox hunting is barbaric. What did the poor little fox do to deserve that? Nothing! They're harmless! In fact, I think they're kinda cute. Wouldn't mind having one for a pet, if Heero can have a cat, and if you can have Trowa..."

A boy's voice replied quickly and mirthlessly. "Oh, ha ha. Help me with this bag of potting soil, will you?"

Relena poked her head into the room and saw Hilde and Quatre struggling to move heavy burlap bags of dirt around on the concrete floor, trying to get at the cupboard in behind. She took a few steps into the room and cleared her throat quietly. Both servants looked up, then stood straight before their mistress and awaited her commands. "I'd like a word with Mr. Sagheer in private, if you don't mind," she said to the housemaid.

Hilde exchanged small smiles with the boy before curtseying to her Ladyship and skittering out the door to find some other duties to attend to. Quatre laced his fingers together in front of him and nodded to Relena. "Is there a problem, miss?"

"No, I just..." Relena ran out of words much too fast, and grasped the back of a white-painted metal patio chair in front of her, thumbing the filigree shell design on the crown. "We don't seem to talk anymore...you know, like we used to. I know I've gotten busy lately, but that doesn't mean...do you mind if we....."

"Oh, of course!" Quatre chirped. He dashed to her side and pulled out the chair for her, inviting her to sit at the decorative card table. He quickly took the chair opposite and sat forward in it, leaning both arms on the table with his hands clasped together in concentration. Naturally, he could tell something was bothering her. "Please, you go first. Unless you want me to go first. Should we flip a coin?"

"No, no, no, it's alright." With a delicate toss of her hair, Relena almost appeared normal for a moment, but the stormclouds swiftly billowed back around her face. "You know that I've been engaged for almost two months, but I doubt that you've noticed that my relationship with Heero...well, it's been getting worse instead of better. I thought perhaps that life in London wasn't suitable for him, that's why I brought him here, but no matter how hard I try to make him happy, we...we seem to be growing apart." Quatre looked away uncomfortably. "I wondered if...since you've known him as long as I have, maybe you could..."

"...talk to him about it?" the blond boy finished for her.

"Would you, please?" Relena begged, tears of anxiety and restraint threatening to tumble down her cheeks. "Maybe he'd feel better talking to another man about whatever's bothering him, but I have to know what it is! Does he feel isolated out here in the country? Is he worried about marrying above his station? Is he h-hav--" She winced and swallowed, clenching her hands in grief. "Is he having second thoughts?"

Quatre heard every word she said, but they didn't receive all of his attention. While her head was lowered and she dabbed at her eyes, he looked past her to the doorframe, where a shadow with ocean blue eyes was staring very strangely at the scene. Quatre tried to catch the shadow's attention, but it's gaze was riveted to the back of Relena's head as she struggled not to break down in a fit of tears. Finally, the shadow looked up, locked eyes with Quatre just for a second before bolting back down the hall. Quatre shook his head at the empty space, frowning. _Heero...you've got to explain yourself sooner or later...this is just plain cruel._

The gardener patted Relena's trembling hands as comfortingly as he could, cooking at her in a soothing voice. "There there, it's probably nothing. I'll track him down and talk to him for you, okay? Now, why don't we go up to the parlour and I'll have Elsie bring you some tea, alright?" The girl sniffled and nodded in agreement, and the pair of them got up and made their way slowly to the other end of the house.

In a different direction altogether was the round-fronted lounge, where the shadow had fled once he knew he'd been discovered. Now Heero was slouched heavily in the green leather chair, one hand on the armrest and the other raised enough so that he could gnaw irritably on his thumbnail, a habit he'd never noticed before. As he stared out at the countryside and the fading daylight, he realized that a new set of feelings were making themselves known where Relena was concerned--a curious mixture of pity and guilt. He still felt annoyance when he thought of her hounding him until their alleged wedding day, but his behaviour was making her miserable, and he knew it.

_Just one more person having their life ruined for the sake of the mission,_ he thought on a reflex. It was to be expected, in a way; stringing her along was part of his job, and it always had been, but he couldn't do it convincingly anymore. All the pleasing words and soft glances he once knew were gone now, and where he used to be able to dazzle her Ladyship with his very presence, he could barely muster enough enthusiasm to say 'good morning' at the breakfast table. He knew it wasn't fair to treat her that way. Nothing in his life was fair.

_Duo and I aren't the only ones suffering, but at least we know the reasons behind our situation. She doesn't. She might be flighty and difficult to respect, but she doesn't deserve to get hurt by this perpetual lie._ He tried to reason his way out of feeling guilty, and to a point, it worked. _If it weren't for the mission, all of this would go away._ The mission. Forever the mission. It ruined everything, completely and consistently.

Without even realizing it, he picked up the newspaper and started thumbing through it, looking for distraction. He stopped at the travel section, and was stared at by package holidays, ocean liner voyages, railway journeys, and saw that everyone else in the world except him could go just about anywhere they wanted. _Duo would probably like one of these...someplace with a low concentration of agents would be nice...and a bit of sun...he'd like that._ Heero took out his notebook and pen, and started jotting down details on boat fares to all points around the globe, not really stopping to think if he was serious. It was just something to pass the time. _We have to get out of here...we have to get away..._

He sat there for the rest of the night, staring at the package holidays and pretending that he wasn't rooted in place.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Thirty-Nine: The Hursley Hambledon Hunt goes forward as planned, and so does the gala ball, but with a few more guests than Relena had accounted for. Treize confronts an unsuspecting Heero about the whereabouts of the Peacecraft gold, while Duo and Giorgenson plot to rescue the boy from his sad destiny of lies and subterfuge._

Ack. My dinner's on the table, so I'm gonna luv ya an' leave ya. I hope you won't throw heavy objects at me, but there's going to be a little extra time between this episode and the next, but in all likelihood, it's going to be double-length, so hopefully that'll make up for it. Can you last until March 7th? *crosses fingers whilst ducking heavy objects* I knew you could. =^_^=


	39. Shy Violet double length episode

Whooo! Lots of stuff to get through tonight! First, there are two dialects used in this episode that were provided to me by a third party who asked not to be named (*lol* ...a good move on her part!), so I get to absolve myself of responsibility for them! =^_^= Whee! Next, Rachel, my beta reader and all-round support system, humbly suggested that you might want to look at this picture --> http://www.users.globalnet.co.uk/~adamw/1896%20Panhard.htm before proceeding. O-tay?

Disclaimer: In a town called Perfect where there's a Walgreen's on every street corner, every author and authoress has their own set of Gundam pilots to love and to squeeze and to show off to all their friends. But we don't live anywhere near Perfect. *realizes she just ripped off a commercial to explain that she's not ripping off a tv show* Dangit.

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Thirty-Nine: Shy Violet

_"Any fool can tell the truth, but it requires a man of some sense to know how to lie well." ~Samuel Butler_

March 7th, 1902

_~*~ Act One ~*~_

          The previous morning, Duo had been snoozing quite happily with both arms wrapped around a perfect-sized pillow, when a heavy hand that smelled of grass seed clomped onto his shoulder and shook him awake. He flipped over with a start, eyes shooting open and wisps of hair escaping his braid in all directions, only to see that the special someone in his dream was gone, and the smiling farmhand and his wife were standing at his bedside instead. Without so much as a 'how do', the wife plucked the blankets off him and single-handedly pulled Duo into a sitting position.

          "Don yer clathers! 'Tis aneest cockleert!" the stout farmhand announced, slapping the boy several times about the back.

          "Yeah, yeah, okay! And a 'hey-howdy' to you too! God!" Duo cowered and rubbed his eyes, then blinked at the inky black window to his left. "It's still dark out! What're you doing waking me up at this hou--urrf!" He was sharply cut off by an ugly patterned cardigan being yanked over his head by two very strong and very awake arms.

          "Chell 'ave no crewnting afirm 'ee," the farmhand's wife said gruffly but pleasantly as she tugged the mass of brown knitted wool over his black pajama top. "Ise bote yee 'alf dizzen cole fer nummet, an' ther's tea."

          Upon excavating his messy head from the cardigan, Duo looked around in a fluster. The strange country couple were rushing about, moving faster than he'd ever seen them do, even when he rang the dinner bell. He followed them out the bedroom door into the main room, a combination kitchen and dining area, and noticed three very odd things right away. First, there were two nearly identical white envelopes on the kitchen table, and Duo had lived with the couple long enough to know that all their friends lived within walking distance, and so they had little use for the postal service. Second, one envelope had been opened, and a thick stack of pound notes was spilling out of it. Third and strangest of all, the portly pair were stacking suitcases by the front door.

          "Whoa, whoa, what's all this!?" the chef exclaimed.

          Neither of his hosts slowed down in their bustling activity, but the husband scooped up the opened envelope and the money, shaking it in the air with a gritty, toothy smile. "Diddlecome bulraggle in specs, e' done vaught us arteen day n' night, _Tenerife!_ Ohohoho, dinnet loike hatches of angels, akether!"

          ".......thank you," Duo said, not knowing what else to say. The most pointed word he'd heard so far was 'Tenerife,' and it was also one of the very few words he'd understood since he arrived. Something buried in his distant memory kicked him in the back of the head and told him that Tenerife was a place, but where, he couldn't say. "Are we going on a trip?" he asked warily, not wanting to be relocated again so quickly.

          "Tch! Fitty alkitotle!" the wife called out teasingly, swatting at Duo's spiky bangs. "This 'ouse be yers, bin we's off!"

          Every once in awhile, they made a herculean effort to drop their thick and incomprehensible accents, for Duo's benefit, and that time, the message got through loud and clear. "Wait a minute," Duo said slowly, his grin returning, "you guys are leaving...and _I_ get the _house!?_"

          The wife smiled and pinched his cheek, then they both picked up their suitcases and trotted outside. To Duo's further astonishment, there was a pony and trap already waiting for them, and its driver clambered down to load his vehicle with the couples' accoutrements, in between yawns. In only a few minutes, the horsecart was fully laden, and the cheery couple waved their goodbyes to their erstwhile lodger as the pony pulled them away. Duo waved back, flabbergasted, and went inside.

          His body screamed for him to go back to bed for a few more hours, but instead he picked up the lit oil lamp they had left on the table and had a look around. The cottage was still full of their things, all their dishes and knickknacks...only their clothes and personal essentials had gone with them, suggesting that they'd be coming back eventually. There was still an unopened envelope on the kitchen table. It was addressed to Duo. Hesitantly, he picked it up and extracted from it a brief but eye-opening letter.

_If you're reading this, it probably means that Mr. and Mrs. Hulderfrump, or whatever their name was, have just rushed out the door with a brand new set of faux-crocodile luggage. I've taken the liberty of sending them on a little cruise vacation so you can have the cottage to yourself...and by 'you', I mean you and anyone you plan on surgically extracting from the Peacecraft estate. I'm giving you a day's notice to get ready because the hunt ball is tomorrow, and you'll need to arrange some extra help of the medical persuasion for Heero. Trust me, if you convince him to mutiny, he's going to need a doctor. I'll meet you outside the front gate tomorrow morning at seven, so get cracking! ~G._

          Duo dropped the note back on the table, limply and without co-ordination. He looked at the kitchen counter next and saw six cabbages that could have been real or the remnant of a dream. At worst, they were emergency provisions left by the farmhand's wife, to sustain him until he could get to the village and do some grocery shopping. _Cole slaw. Yummy._ He really wasn't awake enough to deal with any of it. He promised himself he'd send a telegram to Sally in a few hours, and went back to bed.

**********  
  


          The following day, the seventh of March, Duo had no one but himself to get him up in the morning, but he somehow managed it, if only because the loneliness was getting painful and company was hopefully on its way. He put on a pot of coffee and waited, staring out the kitchen window at a dark blue sky with many of the evening stars still in view. After a short while, a knock came at the door. Duo quickly stumbled over to answer it and was never happier to see his guest as he was at that moment.

          Sally half stood, half wobbled just outside, looking fetchingly dishevelled in her fern green dress. She was blinking much slower than average. "_Do_ you...have _any_ idea...what time I had to leave yesterday to be here for six o'clock? Trains don't run in the middle of the night, Duo! I had to rush out to Southampton at the last minute, find a bed and breakfast, of which I've had four hours of bed and no breakfast, and I just spent the last two and a half hours riding on the back of a farmer's cart with seven dozen turnips and a goat! Add that to the fact that I had to cancel five appointments just to _be_ here, and this damn well better be an emergency!" She didn't seem in the best of moods.

          "Sorry," Duo said sheepishly, waving her inside. "I couldn't tell you any more in the telegram because I was afraid someone might intercept it along the way, and believe me, I wouldn't cause you this much trouble if it weren't really important." He shut the door and joined Sally in the kitchen, where she was sleepily evaluating the innards of the cottage. He scratched the back of his head and cleared his throat. "It's about Heero."

          Sally snapped her head around to face him, eyes suddenly intense and focused. "What's wrong with him?"

          "Well, nothing yet, but...it's kinda complicated. How 'bout I give you the condensed version over breakfast?"

          It sounded like a decent offer, and Sally agreed. While he cooked up some eggs, toast, bacon and fried potatoes, he related the essentials of the situation, that Heero was working for a very bad man who delighted in making his life miserable, and that another old man, a friend of the first, was going to help him spring Heero from his virtual prison. Sally's reacted with confusion and a bit of worry. "I don't mean to sound disinterested," she said between forkfuls, "but what do you need me for?"

          Duo shrugged. "I really don't know. This guy just said I should find Heero a doctor before we got started, and you're the only one I can trust." He even showed her Giorgenson's letter to show he was serious.

          Sally put down her fork, examined the letter, and rubbed her eyes with a sigh. "I wonder if I should look into cancelling _next_ week's appointments as well." Duo shrugged at her again, apologetically this time.

          Once they had both eaten their fill, the sunshine was just beginning to paint the sky a dusky periwinkle, and it was time to go. Giorgenson was meeting Duo outside the gates at seven, but he wanted Sally to come along for moral support, among other things. They hiked from the cottage to the front gate, her in her green dress and brown high-laced boots, and he in his brown tweed suit and cap. At two minutes to seven, by Sally's watch, their short wait was shortened even further by a rumbling and rattling noise coming from their right, far down the heavily-shaded country road that connected Sutherby Hall with the village.

          At the speed of a horse's canter, something black and gold and shiny was rolling towards them. It was one of those new-fangled horseless carriages, with a peculiar grey-haired man in a long brown duster and hat at the wheel, on the right-hand side. Duo's jaw dropped as he realized it was Giorgenson, dressed as something other than the village idiot for a change; the vicuna coat and cream silk scarf alone must have cost him a packet.

          The old man pulled the vehicle up to the gate and stopped just in front of his passengers. "Good morning!" he called out merrily as he ably leapt down from the driver's seat. He seemed remarkably fit for his age, and remarkably wealthy for his usual lifestyle.

          "Awesome!" Duo breathed, all but drooling over the automobile. "Is that yours?" he asked eagerly, reaching out to skim his fingers over the black lacquered chassis.

          "Manners, boy, manners!" Giorgenson chided, already smiling at the pretty redhead before him. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your charming companion?"

          Duo backed away from the car quickly. "Yeah, sorry...this is Sally Poole. She's the 'medical help' you asked me to get for Heero."

          "_Doctor_ Poole," Sally corrected with a smile, extending her hand.

          The old man grasped her hand gently and tipped his cap. "Are you really? What's that muscle right there?" he asked, pointing to a spot near the elbow of his outstretched arm.

          Sally laughed once, moderately amused by his surprised tone of voice. "Brachioradialis."

          The moustached smile widened. "_Very_ good. You'll do just fine. Giorgenson's the name, _Professor_ Giorgenson, and I'm _delighted_ to make your acquaintance, mademoiselle." He bent down to kiss her hand, and Duo scrunched away from the scene; the professor was definitely over his little 'phase' that had once kept him fascinated with Jeffrhyss. "You _must_ sit next to me, my dear. Climb in! We've got a long journey ahead of us!"

          "Where are we going?" Duo asked, stepping back up to the shining vehicle.

          "To my base of operations, m'boy! Hop in the back there!" He pointed to the back seat of the automobile, which was slightly raised and didn't look like it belonged there. In fact, there was something very odd about the whole car; it didn't look to be made out of 100% original parts, for a start. The back seat looked as though it had been welded on as an afterthought, and the retractable rain shield had been moved back to accommodate it. Where the rear storage compartment should have been, there was a series of iron counterweights suspended in a geometric pattern by some thick wire and several pulleys. The front end of the car looked totally redone, and was much larger and bulkier than normal, which may have explained the counterweights. Most noticeable about the contraption was its inordinately heavy undercarriage made of thick steel, and the wheels, which were each four thin wheels bonded together at the hubs to make a very wide super wheel on the end of each axle. To top it off, a tall piece of glass in a metal frame had been mounted upright directly in front of the bench seat, for no apparent reason. It was a truly beautiful monstrosity, and it looked slow as molasses.

          "I'd like you both to meet Winifred," Giorgenson said as Duo climbed up and settled himself into the back seat. "She's a '96 Panhard-Levassor, with...a few minor adjustments." He climbed up himself and offered a hand up to a dubious Sally.

          "...how 'minor'?" she asked.

          Giorgenson waited until they were all seated comfortably before giving them the grand tour of his creation. "First, if you wouldn't mind utilizing the safety harnesses provided? We're not going for a leisurely roll through the park, not today!" He demonstrated the straps of thick black elastic that were fastened to the frame and had a sturdy clasp on each end; they were meant to cross a person's chest twice and latch together at the front. Before long, all three were strapped in securely, and Giorgenson started the engine with the push of a button.

          The little engine sprang to life and the whole car shook slightly as the man rattled off a list of his custom tamperings. "The harnesses are my own design, as is this piece of glass in the front. Keeps some of the wind out of your eyes. Next there's the tires...I'd be flim-flammed if I could _ever_ find a decent set of tires with enough grip to my liking, so I made these myself." His audience dutifully looked over the side at the composite wheels.

          "What about all those weights in the back?" Duo asked. "Don't they slow you down?"

          "And all these extra parts!" Sally added. "Are we going to be back by dark?"

          Giorgenson smiled to himself for a long time before reaching to a spot near his right foot and flipping a switch. Instantaneously, the little putt-putt engine cut out and a second, much louder engine kicked in. The car wobbled a little more violently, but the counterweights in the back balanced each movement just enough that it none of the four wheels came close to leaving the ground. With one foot on the brake, he pressed down briefly on the accelerator, and there was a massive thundering roar from the second motor. He chuckled as his passengers squeaked in surprise and fear.

          "I had to do something about that original engine!" he shouted over the din of the idling machine. "Four cylinders, 750 RPM, maxed out at 15 miles per hour! Talk about your gutless wonders! Total waste of good metal, so I made my own engine! Six cylinders plus a whack of extra gears, and a seamless transition mechanism to switch between the two! I've clocked Winifred at 45 miles per hour in all kinds of weather! She's a powerhouse!"

          Sally squeaked a second time and involuntarily grabbed the side of the car. "You can't go that fast! Nobody can go that fast! It's dangerous to your health!"

          Giorgenson shook his head at the panicky woman. "I should've thought you of all people wouldn't take what the medical establishment had to say at face value! Not only is it perfectly safe, but here I am to prove it! I'm her one and only test driver!"

          "He's got a point!" Duo chimed in, leaning as far forward as he could in his elastic harness. "All those doctors who say 15 miles per hour is the limit are _men_! Wouldn't you love to make them all look like idiots!? All you gotta do is survive the trip to wherever it is we're going!"

          Sally's eyes glazed over with ecstasy. "Let's roll."

          Giorgenson grinned. "You heard her, Winnie! Andiamo!" In a smooth and well-practised motion, he manipulated the clutch, shifted into first gear, rammed the gas, and off they went like a greased cannonball, down the dirt road and out of sight in the twinkling of an eye.

**********  
  


          Quatre wasn't known on either of his home continents for having a temper, but he was getting dangerously close to exploding like the stealthy powderkeg he really was. One of his oldest friends was in great distress thanks to one of his newest acquaintances, and he wasn't going to stand for it anymore.

          At the moment, and for the last several days, just finding Heero to talk to him was the greater problem. Quatre could no longer pick the boy up on his emotional radar, meaning that either Heero had learned of his talent and somehow discovered a way to mask himself from its reach, or that he wasn't feeling anything at all. Quatre was simply too angry to care which.

          Having long since given up on his usual ways of finding people, he conducted a methodical search of the house, room by room, after insisting to Trowa and Hilde that he should do so alone. Both floors above ground turned up no Heero, and all that remained were the few rooms underneath the house. He checked the fruit cellar, the wine cellar, the storm cellar, and the boiler room, to no success, then turned his thoughts to other structures on the grounds; as he exited the boiler room into the chilly air of early spring, a garden shed caught his eye, and he headed for it.

          The shed was a tiny thing, perhaps not more than fifty square feet in which to hide, and sure enough, there was someone hiding in it. Quatre swung the rickety wooden door open and found his quarry, propped up on some wooden crates with Shadow draped over one shoulder, wrapped up in his winter coat and halfway through Kipling's 'Jungle Book' by the light of a single gaslamp. He also appeared to be halfway through a bottle of scotch.

          Quatre frowned in disapproval and folded his arms. "You're _not_ drinking at _this_ hour of the morning..."

          Heero turned the page without visually acknowledging his guest. "When you take into account the last time I actually slept, it's eleven-thirty at night by my internal body clock."

          "So you've been trying to drink yourself to sleep alone in a woodshed with an open flame all night!? What were you thinking!? That's how people get killed out here!" Heero drowsily looked up and made eye contact at last. Quatre's breath caught in his throat as he felt that he really couldn't sense anything from the boy--not anger, not guilt, not anything. Quatre's own fear blocked out his wrath for just a moment, then he remembered why he came. "You've been tough to track down lately...I keep asking all over the house if anyone's seen you, and it's like you don't even exist!"

          "My existence is self-evident," Heero said with surprising clarity, lifting the half-empty bottle to chin level. "I drink, therefore I am." He boldly took another swig as Quatre shook his head in disgust.

          "About your engagement to Rele--"

          "_Don't_," Heero snapped. "I'd really rather not discuss it."

          "Well, you're in luck, because we're not _going_ to discuss it. _I'm_ going to talk, and _you're_ going to listen, got it?"

          Heero slumped backwards a bit, and Shadow leapt down from his shoulder and padded to the other side of the shed, not liking the sudden influx of bad vibes.

          "Relena was my friend long before you showed up, and this engagement of yours is hurting her worse than if you'd never set foot in Bridlewood. She's miserable because she thinks you don't love her anymore, and while I know you never did, it's _horrid_ of you to keep stringing her along like this! All you do is drop a few nice words her way here and there, and then disappear for hours at a stretch! Those phony smiles aren't working anymore, in case you haven't noticed, but she's still clinging to some futile dream that the two of you can actually have a happy and fulfilling life together! If your whole engagement is a sham, why don't you just break it off? End Relena's agony and let her get on with her life, meet someone else, have a _real_ marriage! Stop torturing her!"

          There was absolutely nothing Quatre could say that Heero hadn't already considered. _It's all meaningless, though...as long as Treize is here, this is where I must stay._ "I can't."

          Quatre squinted at him from above and studied what little he could sense from him; obligation was leaking into the space between them. "The day she hired you...she told me you followed her home from a garden party. Did you...were you _sent_ to find her? To uncover her father's murder?"

          Heero almost laughed. That was just an unexpected bonus that had little bearing on his true mission, but to fool Quatre, or at least get him off his back about it, it would suffice. "Yes, I was sent."

          "Well...if that's true, then you've done your job, and you can leave her alone from now on."

          Heero mumbled something to the effect that Quatre didn't know what he was talking about and lifted the bottle to his lips again. In a sudden fit of rage at being so casually dismissed, Quatre reached down and snatched the bottle away with one hand and hauled Heero to his feet with the other. Heero's eyes widened at the shocking display of strength from the once-frail gardener, then had to quickly focus on not falling over and forgot about it. The book still clung to his right hand as if by magic.

          "I know I can't make you do anything while you're sober, and I have even less chance of doing so while you're drunk," Quatre spat, "so I'm _asking_ you...if you're not prepared to do right by Relena, then break off this engagement and get out of her life." It wasn't clear whether Heero even heard him, from the vacant look in his eyes. Quatre loosened his grip on the boy's collar slightly. "Is there someone else?"

          Heero shut his eyes and remained silent as the question drifted right through him and splattered against the opposite wall. He might have been too insensible to answer, or he might not have _known_ the answer, Quatre couldn't tell. "Just tell her there's someone else, then. It can't hurt her any more than she's hurting right now, and it'll finally be over. One quick jab, and then she can start to heal herself. Promise me you'll think about it, Heero. It's only fair."

          Slowly, Heero opened his eyes, stared at the ground, and nodded once. Quatre released him, and he stepped carefully to the door, as the gardener watched twice as carefully. Just in front of the door, Heero paused, half-turned, scratched the fabric of his coat above the knee, and from out of nowhere, Shadow leapt onto the coat and climbed swiftly up to sit on his shoulder. Quatre raised an eyebrow at how well the little cat seemed to be trained at only four months of age; once Heero was gone, he extinguished the lantern and poured out the rest of the liquor onto the floor, all the while asking himself if he'd done the right thing.

**********  
  


          Giorgenson, Sally, Duo and Winifred covered miles and miles of back roads in unofficial record time, all without suffering any grievous symptoms of 'speed poisoning.' At worst, the two newcomers were beginning to experience speed intoxication. The place they were headed for, as the driver explained, was Oxford. A horse-drawn carriage would have taken too long, and there was no direct train route that didn't make a sharp detour through London, so the modified automobile was the logical choice to get them there and back in plenty of time for the hunt ball. Either that, or the old man just wanted to show off his new gizmo.

          They found that the faster they travelled, the smoother the ride became, so there wasn't even any motion sickness to contend with. Winifred's hand-painted speedometer was showing just over 40 miles per hour as their average speed, but the numbers on the dial went all the way up to 75, a velocity that only existed in the realm of science fiction magazines, leaving plenty of room for Giorgenson to make further 'improvements.'

          After a journey of less than two hours of running flat out in Winifred, her driver flipped the switch to return control to the primary engine, the little putt-putt motor that originally came with the car. "We're getting close to the city limits, and I'd rather not flash my invention all over town, if you get my drift." They all but coasted into town at what seemed like a snail's pace, and Giorgenson drove them down all sorts of charming streets full of unrivalled architecture and pretty parklands as the city of Oxford welcomed them with open arms.

          It was just before nine o'clock in the morning and there was plenty of action around town, people going to and fro on their daily business, and especially horses and children looking quizzically at their vehicle. Duo and Sally were having a lovely time being chauffeured around on a sightseeing tour of a place they'd never seen, and Giorgenson took delight in pointing out all the local landmarks and points of interest. Eventually they turned down the final street and wove through a series of very grand buildings made of the oldest stones either of the visitors had ever seen. They stood proud as castles amongst the ancient trees, with tall spires and gothic archways on every surface. On every pathway and in every antique window, bringing life to the eight hundred year old landscape, were boys in blazers, walking alone or in pairs, talking in groups and reading from thick books on wooden benches. The sign they passed, edged in newly-planted hedges and dark green shrubbery, read 'Oxford University.'

          Having since removed the speed harness along with the others, Duo leaned forward and cooed with amazement. "You really _are_ a professor, aren't you?"

          "Of literature and classical studies," Giorgenson confirmed, "thought I haven't taught for almost two years. Been thinking about going back to it, and they've kept my office nice and dust-free while I'm making up my mind. If you can successfully deprogram Heero, I'd gladly recommend you both for scholarships, when you're old enough. Anything to keep you out of Cambridge..."

          Sally laughed and Duo smirked. Winifred offered no opinion on the old school rivalry, but simply took them slowly up to one of the massive stone structures and stopped in a lane not designated for any vehicles at all, horseless or otherwise. Another old man, with thick white sideburns and a monocle, probably another professor, scowled at Giorgenson for bringing the motorized eyesore onto campus property. It didn't faze Giorgenson one bit as he hopped out of the car and lit his pipe. "Morning, Aloysius," he sang. The other professor turned away in a huff.

          "Not very popular with the faculty?" Sally asked as diplomatically as she could.

          "Nah, they just treat me the same as the kids because I act like one. Frequently much worse. Thank goodness the students love me to bits, or I'd have nobody to complain about grown-ups to. C'mon, my office is this way..."

          They went into the nearest building and right away, the affinity Giorgenson had with the younger generation was clear. Every twelve steps, some youngster, often a lad in a crested blazer, or occasionally a girl in a cream-coloured dress, greeted the professor cheerily as he led his guests up several flights of stairs to his office. On the glass panel of his door, instead of the typical name in pale white letters that one would expect, there were the words 'Eschew Obfuscation!' Both Sally and Duo squinted at the door in confusion, unable to decipher the riddle.

          His office was nothing short of palatial, with rich dark wood everywhere, and a real Persian rug. One wall was entirely bookcase, packed full of leather-bound volumes, all the colours of the rainbow. The centrepiece was a highly-polished desk with many secret compartments that Giorgenson intended to keep to himself, hovered over by a small electric chandelier with frosted glass lilies covering the bulbs. To the left was an ordinary-looking wooden door.

          "Please excuse the tidiness, but as I said, I haven't been teaching for awhile." The Professor set up two chairs in front of his desk and sat down behind it in a brown leather tilt 'n swivel. Duo and Sally sat down opposite him. After a moment's consideration of the scene, Giorgenson got up, walked around the desk, took Duo by the arm, put him in the brown leather tilt 'n swivel, and took the chair next to Sally for himself, grinning like a gremlin at her. Sally smiled back and blushed.

          "Now then!" the Professor said finally, looking squarely at Duo. "How are we going to get you into that house?"

          Duo blinked and took off his cap, dropping it on the desk. "I thought you already had an idea. You told me _days_ ago that you had an idea, that's why we're here!"

          "Right, right, and what else did I tell you? What did I say about hiding things?"

          The boy thought for a bit, trying to piece together his memory of the deluge of information he had received that day. "You said that the best place to hide something is with a lot of other things that look just like it."

          "Well done. Now, let's gather our facts up into one big basket and have a good long look at them. Fact number one: You want to pry Heero away from his present assignment. To do this you need to get inside that fancy house."

          "Fact number two," Duo continued, "if Relena, Treize, or anyone else like them spots me, I'm as good as barbequed."

          "Which leads to fact number three, not only must you be there, but you must not be seen." Giorgenson leaned back and puffed away at his pipe languidly. "Tonight's ball would be the best time to act because the Peacecraft estate will be chock full of elite partygoers. With so many high-ranking civilians hanging around, Jeffrhyss will be hesitant to make a violent fuss over you taking his best agent off-site. Lots of witnesses is a good thing."

          Sally scratched the back of her neck, as she often did when she was in deep thought. She'd been filled in on the basics of the relationship between Heero and his master on the way to Oxford, but she didn't tell either of them what she had already known for months. Now she had the name of the man responsible for the hundreds of whip marks on Heero's back, and she was that much closer to holding him accountable for it, but the way Duo looked when that name was mentioned suggested an even greater danger. It called for discretion. "If there _are_ these...agents...milling around at the ball, could we pick them out of the crowd? Maybe if we can distract them, they won't notice what we're trying to do."

          "A good idea, but unfortunately it's the opposite of what we want," Giorgenson explained. "We need it to be reported to Jeffrhyss that Heero left of his own volition. If Duo koshed him on the head with a candlestick and dragged him off in a potato sack, he'd be marked for death."

          Duo swallowed.

          "I'm not half as worried about Jeffrhyss as I am about her Ladyship because, long-term, she's the key to the whole mission. Heero needs to make some excuse to her and disappear, and _you_, m'boy, need very badly not to be seen or she may not believe any excuse he cooks up."

          "How do I avoid being seen in a house full of people?"

          "Follow me." With a wink and a smirk, Giorgenson launched himself out of his chair and went to the solid wood door to their left. It led to a sitting room with a massive wardrobe with ornately-carved doors on one side and a wall of windows on the other. In one corner was a large Chinese screen.

          "My own strategy for not being seen is to hide in plain view," the professor said, unlocking the first panel door of the wardrobe. Inside was a long row of brilliantly-coloured garments hanging on a rail. "This is my own collection of costumes that I use when my English students put on a play. Most of these won't do a good job of hiding you in a room full of aristocrats, men in hunting gear and tuxedos, girls in pretty dresses...but somewhere in here...I know I had one about the right size...should go nicely with your eyes, too, if I may say so..."

          While the Professor rummaged, Duo wondered what he could be disguised as so that Relena wouldn't recognize him. A waiter? A busboy? One of the stable lads tending the horses? He'd almost certainly have to hide his hair...

          "Ah ha!" the old man finally shouted, digging a hanger out of the pack. "At this evening's ball, you shall dance the night away, lavishly adorned in _this!_" With a dramatic flourish, he whirled around and whipped out the garment for which Duo was presumably destined.

          Duo gurgled, then yelped in terror. "No, no, a thousand times, _NO!!_" And then he tried to jump out the window.

          Sally dashed after him and grabbed him by the waist as he was halfway out the window. They struggled. "You fool, we're on the fourth floor!"

          "I don't care! Maybe if I break my leg in the fall, I won't be able to dance!"

          "Don't be a baby! It's only for one night!"

          "I can't! I can't! I'm allergic to taffeta!"

          Giorgenson clucked his tongue at the pair of them. "There's no taffeta in this, that puffiness is just from the crinoline. Take some of the netting out, and you'll be fine."

          Over by the window, Sally won the brief battle and dragged Duo back to accept his fate. "I seem to remember you saying you'd do _anything_ to help Heero." She leaned in close and tried very, very hard not to laugh. "You weren't..._lying_...were you?"

          Duo sighed, then whimpered, then looked the garment over from top to bottom. He couldn't abandon his friend, and it all depended on not being seen for what he was, but..... "Maybe..._maybe_ if nobody's supposed to recognize me anyway...it might not be that humiliating."

          "That's the spirit!" the Professor cheered. "Now, take this behind that screen and see how it fits."

          A drum roll sounded inside Duo's head, slow and solemn, such as was given to a man being led to his execution. He reached out a trembling hand and clutched the wooden hanger from which the garment dangled like a gigantic party streamer. It was light. It was purple. It was silk and lace and it had teeny tiny flowers all over it. _...for cryin' out loud..._

**********  
  


          The Peacecraft estate was simply teeming with extra help brought in by the hunt society. Every acre was checked and double checked for general soundness, and Relena's stables, mostly empty though they once were, had been taken over by their hounds and horses. Her Ladyship and the regular staff hardly had to lift a finger since every single person necessary for holding a successful hunt had been imported from the traditional grounds. All Relena had to do was be a gracious hostess and provide all the food, though she didn't honestly trust Elsie to the task and had to hire a professional catering firm.

          The event was blessed with exceptionally fine weather, and Relena stood on the balcony just over the front door to watch tents being pitched, chairs and tables being set up, and refreshments being laid out for the hunt widows to enjoy while their chaps were off chasing the fox. While she surveyed the work being done, Quatre came quietly up beside her. "I've had a word..."

          "Thank you," she said, just as softly. Not for lack of trying, she just couldn't get herself into the spirit for the day, and it was already turning out to be a great disappointment. "Sooner or later I'll have to wonder if everyone else was right about Heero," she sighed. "Otto's never liked him...Dorothy thinks I've lost my mind just because he's a servant...Lady Une and all her friends are laughing at me...about the only one who thinks we'd be right for each other is Uncle Treize. He's even offered us a luxury honeymoon anywhere in the world."

          Quatre said nothing, preferring to lean against the filigree railing and peer down at the horses, being tended to by men in white riding trousers, red jackets, tall black boots and funny little round caps. He wondered why Trowa wasn't down there helping the grooms and huntsmen, since he liked horses so much.

          "Be honest with me, Quatre," the girl beside him begged, "do you think I'm making a fool of myself? What do you really think of Heero?"

          A difficult thing to answer. What he thought of Heero was irrelevant; the boy simply wasn't interested in her. "He's nice enough," Quatre lied.

          Relena shook her head slowly, staring at the commotion below with tired eyes. "No...he isn't nice at all. Not anymore. If he doesn't change my mind about that soon.....I don't know what I'll do."

          Quatre ground his teeth in anguish. Being so close to a friend in pain wasn't doing him any good, but he couldn't turn away, nor could he bring an end to her last hopes by telling her what he knew...or rather, felt, about Heero. There was definitely someone else, and for a freakishly terrifying moment, he wondered if it had anything to do with the strange feelings he had once sensed coming from Duo. He quickly pushed that idea out of his mind; it didn't bear thinking about just then. "Why don't we both go down there and try some of those sandwiches? They look delicious!"

          Relena sighed again. "I suppose I should put in an appearance, what with being the hostess and all." She turned and walked very unspiritedly downstairs to greet her guests, the majority of whom she had never met before. Quatre followed her and never left her side, but continued to wonder where Trowa was.

          Trowa knew exactly where he was, thankfully; he was in the stables, hunched over the wooden half-wall that was currently penning in a large cluster of dogs. The pack of hounds and terriers was being temporarily kennelled there in one of the larger horse stalls, and Trowa had paid them a visit with only a scant few minutes remaining until the start of the hunt. He leaned on the wooden railing and stared intensely down at the canines, concentrating hard and muttering under his breath.

          "Giving them a pep talk before they go after the fox?" a gentleman's voice said behind him.

          "No...trying to talk them out of it..." It failed to register for several seconds that there was someone in the stable with him, and he spun around, turning red about the ears and preparing to make a lighthearted joke out of what he'd just said.

          The intruder was a tall, auburn-haired man in a white suit, the same white suit he'd worn the day of his arrival at Bridlewood. "I need you to do something for me, boy," Count Khushrenada boomed.

          Trowa swallowed. "Yes, sir."

          "Find me the fastest horse in this stable. A jumper, if you have one. I'll need to borrow it for awhile...and this is strictly _entre nous_, understand? Tell no one."

          As soon as he said those last three words, Trowa knew he had to tell someone, and Heero was at the top of the list. Obediently, he showed Treize to a stall far at the back in which resided a massive black stallion with wild eyes and powerful legs. "I've seen this one clear a five-foot fence with inches to spare, and he's fast too." _He'll also make you easy to spot in the brush. That white suit isn't the best camoflage I've ever seen._

          "Fine, fine, set him up," the Count said, and Trowa went to fetch a saddle and other accessories. He was partially hidden from the man's view by a wooden partition, but nervous curiosity drove him to peek between the slats and spy on him, though only just a little. All he saw was the Count's large, commanding hands loading silver bullets into a pearl-handled revolver. That was more than enough. Trowa readied the stallion as quickly as he could, never once looking in the Count's direction until his request had been filled.

          "Joining the hunt, sir?" he asked politely, handing over the reins and opening the gate.

          "I was rather thinking of starting my own." Treize led the gruff beast out of its stall and swung himself expertly onto its back. The horse snorted and sniffed as it recognized its rider as a man of true and terrible power. Treize looked down at Trowa and raised a finger to his lips. "Remember..." he sang, smiling.

          Trowa nodded stiffly after getting another fearful glance at the revolver under the man's coat. The Count urged his mount forward and they galloped out of the stable and into the field. Trowa ran to the barn door and watched them leave for only a moment before turning and heading for the house at full sprint.

          Just then, Treize looked over his shoulder, saw the boy running away, and smiled evilly. _Today's youth are so predictable...they always do the opposite of whatever you tell them. How fortunate._

**********  
  


          Sally tried not to laugh, she really did, but it was too much. When Duo came out from behind the screen wearing that...thing...she excused herself and ran for the nearest door with a hand over her mouth and her sides sore from shaking. She ended up in an accessory closet, full of scarves, shoes, hats, ties, jewelry, and other assorted props, and it had just enough bare floor for her to collapse from delicately muffled hysterical laughter.

          She could hear the Professor trying to coach Duo on how to walk in the matching satin shoes, with only marginal success. When she was too tired to laugh anymore, she pulled herself to her feet and browsed around the closet, stalling for time out of fear that she'd start laughing again if she went back into the sitting room.

          It was pretty luxurious, for a closet. It had electric lights and a window with a view, and was filled to the ceiling with glamorous artifacts destined for the stage someday. Sally was just killing time when she noticed something pleasantly familiar--a pair of giant fans made of ostrich feathers dyed a dramatic hot pink. With a bashful smile of nostalgia, she picked up the fans, found a full-length mirror in the corner, and modelled them, for old times' sake, holding them close to her svelte form and practising her 'come hither' look. _Yep...still got it._

          Sally was three-quarters of the way down memory lane when the door behind her flew open. Startled by the noise, not to mention being caught with her head in the clouds, she dropped the feather fans and spun around, instinctively shocked to find a man having a peek inside her dressing room.

          "We're having a major corset emergency out here, if you could spare a minute," the Professor whispered.

          "No way! Just forget the whole thing!" a disembodied boy's voice yelled from the sitting room. "I can't breathe in this thing! It's too tight!"

          Giorgenson leaned his head against the doorframe and sighed. "It's _supposed_ to be too tight!" He shook his head sadly. "The boy knows nothing."

          Sally fought off another ferocious wave of giggles. "Sounds like he needs a woman's help after all."

          She spent the next hour teaching Duo how to walk, move, and conduct himself in general all over again, with accompanying lectures from Giorgenson on stage presence and 'becoming' the character one wished to portray. He was put through entirely new paces and seemed confident in his ability to make his disguise somewhat believable, but when they brought out the full-length mirror, he couldn't bear to look at himself. He just stood there with his eyes closed while his teachers looked for details to change that could make him more convincing.

          "The shoes are still a problem," Giorgenson observed.

          "But he's got great balance," Sally replied. "He looks a bit...featureless in certain places."

          "We can get some cotton wool from the nurse's office. What about the hair?"

          "I'll brush it out and put it in a nice clip, maybe something with matching flowers on it...but he's still very pale."

          "I'm friends with the head librarian. She'll let me borrow her rouge if I promise not to tell her what it's for. Does he know how to dance without leading?"

          "Oh, I could teach him that in half an hour, no problem...but what about his throat?"

          "There's a black velvet choker in the closet, that'd do...but, ye gods, what about the _voice_?"

          The toughest question yet. Duo could look the part, and act the part, but he drew the line at wearing any kind of medieval, restrictive underwear so he could sound the part. He shut his eyes even tighter, just before Sally came up with the best suggestion of the afternoon. "We could say he's deaf! That would excuse him from saying anything unless he was alone with Heero, and the rest of the time, he can just smile and nod!"

          A grin of abject lunacy spread across Giorgenson's face. "Simply brilliant, my dear! We'll take him to the linguistics department, get him a quick sign language lesson to top it off...that's absolutely perfect! We'll call him.....Shy Violet."

          The Professor scrambled off to find the velvet choker, while Sally set about untying Duo's hair. She saw the pained lines around his clenched eyelids and patted him on the shoulder. "You look _nice_. You really do. Just keep reminding yourself who it's for. From what I've heard so far, no one escapes without help, and Heero's going to need all you can give him. Now come on and open your eyes, you really don't look that bad."

          "You said I looked _nice_."

          Sally rolled her eyes and fluffed up his bangs. "Just look." 

          Duo opened one eye, then the other. So far, his face was the same. He forced himself to look at his reflection below the neck, and there the similarities came to a screeching halt. His eyes snapped shut again. "I shouldn't have looked."

          "Honestly, the fuss you're making! You'd think we were asking you to throw yourself off a cliff or something! Everything's going to be fine if we all just stick to the plan, so keep your chin up. And smile!" She drew a stiff brush through his hair in long strokes, separating the strands into one large wave of chestnut, grinning to herself. "You know...I've always _wanted_ a little sister!"

          "Oh _God_..." Duo shook his head at the gaudy caricature and felt some belated motion sickness kicking in as Sally experimented on his hair with ribbons and barrettes. "Greater love hath no boy for his Heero than to prance around dressed like a raspberry fondant," he whispered. "He'd better appreciate this or I'll sock him one."

          Sally stifled another giggle.

**********  
  


          Relena did a pretty good job of mingling with the guests, even though she didn't feel like it. Quatre didn't mean to mingle alongside her, defying his lowly and menial position, but he was dressed so neatly and stayed so close to her that he was constantly being asked if they were brother and sister, so conversations were inevitable. Both of the fair-haired teens were deeply entrenched in cordial exchanges when someone in a plain dark suit stepped out the front door, squinting in the bright sunlight. They both saw that it was Heero, and they both debated jogging over to talk to him, though about very different subjects.

          _He must have taken a nap like I suggested after our last encounter,_ Quatre thought, noting the way Heero rubbed his eyes and seemed to be in a slight daze. He could feel Relena straying from her current conversation, wanting to dash over to him and show the world that they were still a couple, but she didn't get the chance. Trowa bolted across the lawn at that very moment and caught Heero by the arm, talking to him in low, tense tones and eliminating anyone's chance of speaking to either of them. After trading a few words, they both ran off in the direction of the stables, and then they were gone.

          Quatre felt Relena's heart sink a little as she watched him go, but there was no time left to feel sorry for herself. A bugle sounded, and a large team of huntsmen on horseback cantered onto the scene. The whippers-in herded the hounds over to the field master, who observed them carefully for signs that they had picked up the scent. The hunt was about to begin.

          Over at the stables, Trowa was finishing up the recounting of what he had seen to Heero, who took it all in with his usual mechanical expression. "...and he was armed. It looked like a .44, with six rounds and a pearl handle. He told me not to tell anyone, but he was obviously up to something, and given his track record with sneaking around and causing unseen havoc..."

          "You did the right thing," Heero said, looking over the remaining horses. "I suppose this is the only way to catch him?"

          Trowa nodded, walking to one of the last occupied stalls. "He asked for the fastest horse available, but I gave him the best jumper instead. _This_ is the fastest." He stopped in front of a dappled brown and cream quarter horse with patches of tiny black speckles here and there, and a mane and tail of a lovely golden tan colour. It looked just barely old enough to be ridden at all, but seemed like it would have no difficulty at all in supporting Heero's small frame. "His name's Pepper. You can take him out to find out what Treize is up to, just try to have him back before the hunt's over, or someone might notice he's missing."

          As Trowa saddled up Pepper for his first espionage assignment, they heard the bugle call again, and barking, and clomping hoofbeats as the hunt charged forward. Trowa cringed. He had really tried hard to find all the foxes on the estate and warn them of the impending danger, but his nose wasn't as good as the hounds', and so the hounds seemed to have located one first.

          Trowa opened the gate to the stall and led Pepper out for Heero's perusal. Not wanting to look like a fool for asking, Heero burned up ten seconds of staring time trying to calculate the best way to get on top of the beast before doing so, at which time he had a new problem. Sadly, he couldn't figure it out for himself, so he had to ask. "How do you start it?"

          Trowa blinked. "You've never ridden before, have you?"

          "Should I have? It never looked that difficult..." Heero snapped the reins, dug in his heels, and snapped the reins again, but Pepper wasn't going anywhere. Trowa chose his next words very carefully.

          "...look...maybe I should go after Treize and report back to you on what I see." _It would certainly be faster than riding lessons..._

          "I don't think you're adequately equipped to deal with his trickery," Heero said, pulling back the edge of his jacket just enough to reveal his own gun in its shoulder holster. "If he thinks we might have caught on to Lord Peacecraft's murder, he may be trying to make his escape while the household is otherwise occupied. I need to catch him _now_."

          "Alright," Trowa said, thinking. He walked up to Pepper and laid a hand on either side of his elongated head, looking deeply into his dark brown eyes. He attempted to plant the suggestion that Pepper should listen very carefully to Heero, with his heart instead of his ears, and take the boy wherever he wanted to go. A minute later, Trowa released Pepper and stepped out of the way. "Just think hard about which direction you want to take, and how fast, and tell him so. He'll try to understand."

          Heero raised an eyebrow, then leaned over the horse's ear, pointing to the stable door. "Pepper? _That_ way."

          Miraculously, the horse obeyed. Trowa's fingers were tightly crossed, and Heero threw a raised-eyebrow expression over his shoulder as Pepper clip-clopped out of the stable. It took Heero a few minutes to convince the horse that steering was necessary, but finally guided it in the direction that Treize had most likely taken, which was directly away from the commotion of the hunt.

          The first portion of their journey was far from smooth, with jerky turns, sudden stops, and odd changes in speed, but after awhile, Pepper seemed to figure out that his rider didn't have a clue what he was doing, and became a little forgiving. After that, Heero found he was developing a strange symbiosis with the horse. He could point it in a different direction by leaning left or right, and could control their velocity by leaning forward or backward. They'd only known each other ten minutes, and it was already turning into a highly productive partnership.

          There was still the problem of finding Treize, however. They were a good half hour into uncharted forest and there was still no sigh of him and his giant black stallion. Not only that, but Pepper had been turned around so many times that Heero was beginning to think they were lost. There was something attractive about that, being lost in the woods with no way home...he was a bit too old to be raised by wolves, but there might still have been plenty of fun to be had. It was just a question of staying lost. Heero could do that, he knew he could.

          A shot rang out and splintered the bark of a large oak tree a few inches from Heero's head. Pepper reared up a few inches and whinnied, and Heero had no option but to turn and acknowledge that Treize had caught _him_ instead of the other way around. Behind him, the Count was seated atop his jet black steed with a pearl-handled revolver in one hand.

          Heero sighed in disappointment. _Kisama...now I have to go back. That's it. Now it's personal._ He drew his own weapon and nudged Pepper forward.

          "Beautiful day for a hunt, isn't it?" Treize cooed.

          Pepper approached the other horse and rider, but only to a point with about fifteen yards between them. He stopped and protested, stomping his front hooves and shaking his head, sending his sandy mane flying in all directions. Apparently, he didn't like the Count's aura.

          "About time you decided to kill me properly," Heero said confidently. "Any half-decent strategist would have figured out how to do away with me _months_ ago."

          "Tempting, but unlikely," Treize answered. "I've decided that you have some sort of invisible steel shroud around you, and I'd just as soon not waste the bullets. Instead, I'll just ask you a few questions and let your horse hope that you have the right answers...or do you have enough invisible steel for _him_ as well?" He gestured loosely at Pepper with his gun, and Heero tightened his grip on the reins in fury. This was unforgivable. "First question...what did you do with the gold?"

          Heero didn't have to fake a blank and clueless expression, it just came naturally. If he meant the gold in the bank in Switzerland, he hadn't done anything to it, he'd just sent a slow-witted spy to look at it. "Nothing."

          "One more lie like that, and I just might reconsider my bullet-wasting policy! I know where the gold was supposed to be, but it's disappeared! Where have you hidden it!?" Treize, of course, was speaking of the gold stowed away within the walls of Bridlewood, leaving Heero at a distinct disadvantage, for only Duo, Wufei, and Arthur knew of its existence.

          Heero squinted at the Count's claim that the unmarked gold bars had vanished from a high-security safety deposit closet. _Could it have been stolen without the authorities noticing? Impossible...unless it was an inside job. Marcus did mention that Treize was bribing half of the board of directors at that particular bank, perhaps the other half wanted a cut too._ "Before you automatically blame me," Heero dared him, "maybe you should take a closer look at your accomplices. I never thought I'd say this about you, but you're far too trusting for your own good."

          Treize recoiled slightly in his saddle. _Accomplices? Dorothy? How could she have gotten inside the walls and dug out the gold when she wouldn't even pick a dropped object up off the floor for fear of breaking a nail? Poppycock._ "If you have any disparaging remarks about my _associates_, kindly keep them to yourself," the Count snarled. "Now, what should I do with you? I'm not entirely convinced that anything you say is the truth, which leaves me in a bit of a quandary."

          Heero glared. "Tough."

          Treize smiled. "But being of a generally forgiving nature, I'm prepared to make you a deal. By now, my men have vacated the pertinent area. If the gold should suddenly turn up mysteriously within the next few days, I won't say a word about it."

          "And if it doesn't?"

          Treize holstered his gun and raised one of his forked eyebrows. "Killing you probably wouldn't do me any good, but not to worry. I've found that there are many other ways of hurting you without drawing blood." He tugged the reins and brought his horse to attention, but paused. "Didn't I see your cat running around loose this morning? You really should keep it locked up if you don't want anything to happen to it...can't be too safe out here today with all these dogs running around..." Taking extreme joy in the involuntary look of fear that crossed Heero's face, he gave a command to his stallion and galloped away, jumping a fallen tree and giving Heero the slip in a heartbeat.

          Heero prayed that he was bluffing, but he hadn't seen Shadow since before he laid down for his nap. If the foxhounds had hurt her in their maniacal lust for blood because of his carelessness, he'd never forgive himself.

          He raced back to the house with Pepper and searched all of the cat's usual hiding places, calling her name, for she always came when he called, but she wasn't there. Dreading the thought that Treize might actually have unlocked several doors and shooed her outside into harm's way, he skipped luncheon with Relena and the socialites, the one he promised her he'd attend, and went looking for the animal on horseback. He and Pepper scoured the grounds in a zigzag pattern and were twice admonished by the whippers-in for getting in the way of the hunt. They couldn't find Shadow anywhere.

          Heero's life had just defied the odds by getting even more unbearable than it already was.

**********  
  


_~*~ Act Two ~*~_

Evening fell, and the day's focus shifted from outdoors to indoors as the hunt ball got underway. The hunstmen, many still clad in their sporting attire, marched into the ballroom in a military fashion, scrounging up what was left of their dignity after losing the fox and coming back empty-handed. Relena, as the hostess, entered the ballroom at the front of the line on the arm of the master of the hunt, a Mr. Berwick with thinning hair and a gold tooth. After the hunt participants came the regular guests, and the massive ballroom filled up quickly.

The round tables and chairs had been brought inside after the hunt and spread around the perimeter of the glittering ballroom, and a whole new series of drinks, desserts, and tableware assembled. The caterers brought out a buffet-style dinner in one end of the room, and a string orchestra began to play cheerful dance tunes in the other. Soon the place was packed with partygoers in fancy gowns and tuxedos, and once Relena had seen to their comfort, she could at last see to her own, if she was able to find it.

Once the party was in full swing, she looked around for Heero and just happened to spot him entering the ballroom from one of the glass doors that led outside to the patio. He looked his usual depressing self, but at least had remembered to change into his dress uniform, the one he wore to the opera. Knowing his duty, he ambled over to the head table and sat down on her left, the opposite side from Mr. Berwick, who sat on her right.

"You took your time," she said, concentrating more on her plate of food.

"I was looking for something," Heero replied honestly. Shadow still hadn't turned up, and he was getting an ugly gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach. A miscellaneous servant brought him an identical plate of food to Relena's from the buffet table, but he turned it down.

Relena waited until Mr. Berwick was genially engaged in a conversation with the lady on his right, the wife of Councillor Sombody-or-other, before putting her fork down and addressing the problem sitting next to her. "You don't intend to dance tonight either, do you? You don't intend to do anything but sit there and look miserable, I can tell."

They both stared straight ahead at the far edge of the table. Heero stared at his empty wineglass next, a cut crystal goblet with no redeeming liquid features to hold his interest. "And you know what I'm like at social occasions. If you've gone out of your way for this long to accept me with all my many faults, why stop now?"

Relena went 'Hmph!', angrily taken aback by his flippant tone. "Tonight's just going to be a barrel of laughs, isn't it?" She hastily picked up her waterglass, sloshing a bit over the side and looking away as she took a sip. When she put the goblet down, her free hand played lightly over the sparkling engagement ring on her finger. She twirled it around in a pocket of total silence that only extended as far as the chair Heero was sitting in. "I think I'll go greet some latecomers." She got up and walked away without any glance in Heero's direction. Her lack of enthusiasm was returned in kind.

Relena ran to the comfortably familiar, the only thing she knew she could do exceptionally well, and that was hostessing. There were a few guests trickling in who couldn't make it to the hunt, or just wanted to soak up the booze while there was still some left. Each guest was a surprise because the bulk of the guest list was provided by the hunt society, but she was doubly surprised by the fourth guest she greeted after escaping the head table.

"Doctor Poole! How lovely to see you! I didn't know you were coming! I love your dress! How _are_ you?"

Sally smiled and laughed at the barrage, not knowing that it was Relena's way of alleviating her loneliness. "It's nice to see you too, m'lady."

Relena and the Doctor clasped hands and curtsied to each other. "Do help yourself to nibbles and wine, and hopefully I'll see you again before the night's over!"

"Thank you very much indeed," Sally said, sweeping past her Ladyship in the emerald green satin gown Professor Giorgenson loaned her from his costume collection. That was the easy part. She went to take up her position while awaiting her cohorts, who weren't far behind.

Relena felt marginally better for getting a few introductions out of the way, but she needed to do more, to distract herself from her many problems. She composed herself just as the next two guests sauntered into the ballroom, and was immediately perplexed by them. There was a tallish gentleman in a flashy kind of admiral's uniform, wearing a red dinner jacket adorned with medals, ribbons, shiny buttons, and gold braid epaulets. He had thick grey hair slicked back against his head and a highly waxed moustache that turned upwards into a little point at each end. His small round spectacles hid his eyes from time to time, depending on which way he turned his head. Relena was certain that she hadn't seen anyone like him in the whole of her life.

"Er...good evening, mister..."

"Admeeral Sunderfoteneskilinghultsvad!" the man bellowed with a regal air.

Relena paled. ".....thank you," she said, not knowing what else to say. "Um...lovely to see you."

"Yes, hellu, I coome frum Sveden," the admiral said, "und thees is mee-a niece, Violet Sunderfoteneskilinghultsvad." He pointed to a slight figure to his right, a slender girl in a pale purple dress. She had a fan painted with violets held up to her face and lowered it politely to reveal a charming visage, complete with matching purple eyes. She smiled sweetly.

Relena and Violet curtsied simultaneously, fanning out their gowns around them. "How do you do, Miss Violet?" her Ladyship asked, not ready to chance her luck at the last name.

Violet said nothing, but looked up at her uncle expectantly. "Shees a-deeff, und she dun't talk mooch neezer," the old man said. Relena looked confused until Violet touched a finger to her lips, and then to her ear.

"Oh! You're deaf!" Relena took the girl's hand and patted it sympathetically. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know!"

"Yoo heff a bee-ootiful Engleesh coontryside, bee-ootiful trees und rucks! Thunk yoo fery mooch!" The Admiral took his niece by the arm and led her away with a smile.

"Um...yes, do enjoy yourself, mist--uh...Admiral..."

"Sunderfoteneskilinghultsvad!"

Relena breathed a sign of relief when they were gone.

The Admiral's niece jerked his arm slightly and whispered in an annoyed boy's voice, "That's the _worst_ Swedish accent I've ever heard! You call this keeping a low profile?"

"Shut up! You're deaf!" the Admiral whispered back.

Violet rolled her eyes and closed her mouth. The pair mingled from group to group, trying to reclaim their anonymity, and wherever they went, the gentlemen fawned over Violet and all agreed what a shame it was that she couldn't speak, and also what a blessing it was that she possessed such startling beauty. When Violet found someone she liked, she signed a greeting to them, and then a short phrase or question, which her uncle translated. She asked if they were enjoying the party, where she might find a glass of champagne, and at one point found an elderly hearing lady who could also sign well, and carried on a brief but enjoyable conversation using only her hands. The Admiral nearly burst wide open with pride.

Suddenly, Violet's gaze wandered over to a dark-haired boy sitting all alone at a table full of people, and looking very sad. She tugged on her uncle's arm. "Hm? What have you seen?" the old man whispered. Violet touched her closed fingers to her lips as if about to kiss them, then sprang her hand wide open with her fingers splayed apart. Next, she drew her index finger in a horizontal line across her chin. Her companion's eyebrows arched. "Oh, Heero! You'd better get over there, then." Violet winked and skipped away.

Over at the head table, Heero's stomach was noisily reminding him of when he last ate. Grudgingly, he gave in and headed for the buffet table, where a long line had already formed. Someone handed him a plate while he waited, and he let his eyes wander around the room as the line inched forward. He was almost within reach of the sausage rolls when something caught his eye that made him forget all about food.

Far across the ballroom, standing around while a gaggle of grown-ups gossiped amongst themselves, was a girl. She looked about Heero's age, with bright, vivid eyes and long brown hair that was pulled back at the sides to trail down her back in luxurious shimmering waves. Her gown was a gossamer cloud of lavender, decorated with tiny embroidered flowers around the neckline and scattered over the skirt. Around her swanlike neck was a black velvet choker with a cameo, and every few moments, she lifted a fluted glass of champagne to her lips. It defied explanation that she was standing alone, for every young gentleman in the place ventured over to ask her to dance, and yet she turned them all down with a smile and a shake of her pretty head. What really froze Heero's blood in his veins, though, was that the girl was smiling at him, a sumptuous, bewitching smile that promised much more, and Heero was shocked to find that he couldn't look away.

The plate slipped out of his hand and shattered into ten thousand pieces on the floor. Heero actually gasped at the noise, and the trance was broken. He and three random servants swooped down to sweep up the bits, but as soon as it looked like they had it under control, he bolted. It wasn't the shame of breaking one of Relena's priceless antique china plates that made him run, but the need to escape the strange girl's gaze. He ducked into the crowd and tried to lose himself in the buzzing throng, eventually locating two people he thought he might be able to hide behind, Dorothy and Otto. Mostly Otto.

"I would've liked a nice new red fox stole to go with this dress tonight, so you can imagine how disappointed I was!" Dorothy was saying as Heero slotted himself into their cone of conversation. "I was talking to one of those young, dishy huntsmen, and he can't understand what happened! There most certainly were foxes in the area recently, the dogs could detect them, but they all disappeared within a day! It'll be the last time they ever hold a hunt on this land, I can bet you."

"Mmm," Otto grunted boredly, wondering how he got stuck talking to the most spoiled of all brats. For once, he was actually relieved to see Heero. "So, where have you been hiding yourself lately? Her Ladyship is rapidly losing patience with you, did you know that? Shameful way to treat one's intended, don't you think?"

Long before that point, Heero had stopped listening and was focusing on scanning every face in the crowd for the face of the girl. He had the eerie feeling that he hadn't gotten rid of her, and an even eerier feeling that he didn't want to get rid of her at all. In that brief flash of eye contact, he was exhilirated beyond anything he'd felt for weeks, but it felt wrong. He also felt two sets of eyes burning holes into his head and waiting for acknowledgement. He looked up. "Hm?"

Otto sighed in a huff. "And that's exactly _why_ she's losing patience, because you don't pay attention to anyone but yourself!"

From far off in the crowd, the girl in the lavender dress reappeared. She was following him. Heero swallowed.

"I couldn't agree more," Dorothy added haughtily. "You should give some thought to what you're throwing away by being so distant and crabby all the time. There aren't many gentlemen as lucky as you are, marrying into the aristocracy straight from the working class. Of course, if I had my way, I'd do away with all the non-traditi--"

"Yes, excuse me," Heero blurted out as he darted away a second time, leaving the befuddled pair to scoff at his rudeness. He took an alternate route away from the windows and closer to the orchestra, hoping to find some large instrument like a grand piano or a string bass to hide behind. There was little left to choose from, and he looked all around for another form of escape. Just as his eyes flew from the buffet table to the far doors leading out into the hall, he caught sight of the smiling elven face once again, and his heart raced without explanation. He was dizzy and flushed, and briefly wondered if that was what malaria felt like. The only thing he was certain of was that he needed a drink, so he fled the ballroom through the near set of doors for the preferable solitude of the main lounge.

He left the door ajar and made a beeline to the liquor cabinet, on which sat an assortment of glasses and bottles beckoning to him. No sooner had he pulled the stopper out of a crystal decanter than the door shut quietly behind him, and was locked. He put the decanter down and slowly reached for his gun.

"Heero-sensei...konbanwa..."

The grandfather clock in the corner ticked away for an eternity while Heero turned around. Leaning against the door, holding a flowered fan over the lower half of her face, was the girl in the lavender dress. Heero gaped. _...but...that voice! It's impossible!_

The fan was lowered, revealing an impish grin.

Finally, Heero's eyes shone with true life. "Duo!" he breathed. They were paralyzed on the spot, each hearing nothing but his own pulse pounding in his ears before rushing to embrace each other. They collided in the centre of the lounge in a bear hug that had been far too long in coming. Duo scrunched his eyes shut to keep from crying while he tightened the iron grip around his friend's shoulders; Heero shook faintly as he exhaled into Duo's hair, then buried his nose in the crook of his neck. They stayed in that position until their arms ached from holding each other so tight, and slowly, painfully, pulled apart.

Duo gasped for air and smiled. "So! Honest opinion," he said, twirling around once, "how do I look?"

Heero looked over every detail of Duo's new image. "Words...escape me."

"Probably for the best," Duo said. "Tell me quick, are you doing alright? I got so worried when I didn't hear from you!"

Heero nodded dejectedly. "She's been intercepting my mail, and pretty much destroyed the telephone, but I don't want you to worry about it, because...I'm actually starting to feel better now."

Duo hugged him again quickly for good measure. "I missed you so much! I missed all of you guys, but you most of all!" He grabbed Heero's hands and bounced around in a circle, making Heero twirl around with him. "I've got so much to tell you! I don't know where to start!"

"Start anywhere! Say anything! Just..." Heero paused, struggling for words. "I've missed your voice, and all the inane chatter that came with it."

"Okayokayokay!" Duo jumped again excitedly and pulled out the first memorable event that came to mind. "_Gold_, Heero! We struck gold! All those gaps in the walls had gold bars in them, right under the floorboards! We took them out back and buried them in Arthur's vegetable garden!"

Another wave of shock struck Heero between the eyes. "That's what he meant..." When Duo blinked at him in confusion, he elaborated. "Treize came after me just this morning demanding to know where the gold was! I thought he was talking about something else entirely!"

"Ha! He has _no_ idea it was us! And Arthur was right, nobody even bothers to remember that he exists because he's just the carpenter! Man, all this time, the gold's been right under his nose for weeks, and he didn't even thin--"

"Wait a minute," Heero cut in, squinting, "what do you mean by 'we' and 'us'? Who else knows about this gold besides you and Arthur?"

"...ah..." Duo knew that would be a touchy topic, and withdrew a few paces for his own protection. "I couldn't get the gold out of there myself, but I couldn't let Treize get it either. His goons were tearing the house apart, he would've found it eventually! So...I sorta...teamed up with Wufei."

A long pause followed. "You did _what!?_" Not nearly long enough.

"Now, now, let's not overreact..."

"Duo, he could have very easily _killed_ you! He's threatened violence against _both_ of us time and again, and made it his mission in life to interfere and intimidate us, you especially! He does nothing but get in the way, _and_ he's Lord Jeffrhyss' personal messenger!"

"Actually, that's a little bit backwards," Duo pointed out gently. "We're in _his_ way. He told me this whole story about how Treize killed his girlfriend, and he's just here for revenge! He's not after you personally, you're just the obstacle keeping him from knocking off Treize!"

"And you believed him!?"

Duo slouched and sighed, gazing up at Heero with hurt eyes. He raised his arms hopefully. "Can we go back to the hugging now? That was a lot more fun than this is."

Heero walked up to him and gently pushed his arms back down at his sides, then wondered what to do with his hands next. He finally let them rest on Duo's shoulders while he thought about how unsettling it was seeing his best friend in a dress, paying particular attention to the disturbing lumps under the purple fabric. "Your cotton balls are crooked."

Heero wandered off a few steps while Duo looked down the front of his dress and readjusted his assets. "...'kay, I can see why you might not be able to take me seriously in this getup, but it got me past Queen Lena and her royal guard, so don't knock it." He gave the cotton wool one last shove and set his jaw in Heero's general direction. "I can accept that you don't trust Wufei, but I like to think you trust me, and if I trust him, even a little bit, shouldn't that count for something?"

Reluctantly, Heero nodded. "I suppose if you made it this far without getting maimed, you must have chosen wisely."

"Well, thanks." Duo slapped the closed fan into his palm a few times, summoning up his courage for the more important issue. "That's not the whole reason why I came here, just to tell you that. I came to ask you..." He swallowed and looked up. "I came to bust you outta here."

Heero squinted, at a loss for words.

"I hope you remember what we just established about our mutual trust level, because I met this guy, this...old, _weird_ guy. He knows Lord Jeffrhyss from way back, and he wants to see you liberated as badly as I do. This costume was his idea, so I could sneak in and find you. See, I tried a couple weeks ago, but Relena found me and tossed me out, and I've been staying in a little cottage on the grounds ever since...and I couldn't get near you until today." Heero's eyes enlarged by degrees as he listened to the curious tale. "So...I went to a lot of trouble just to get here and ask you...to come with me. If we stick together, we can take you away from Lord Jeffrhyss and break whatever hold he has on you. We've gotta do it, because you deserve better."

Heero blinked rapidly and ran a hand through his hair. It was a lot to take in at once, but at the same time, it was everything he'd been dreaming of for weeks and weeks. A simple escape...but... "It can't be that simple."

Duo exhaled; he hadn't said 'no' yet. "This guy said I should find you a doctor, so I brought Sally along. I think you know better than I do why you should even need a doctor...you look fine to me..." Actually, Heero didn't look fine at all. He was a little thinner than before, and had faint circles under his eyes. Duo stood quietly off to the side and awaited his answer.

Heero looked from Duo to the liquor cabinet and back again. Something was seriously wrong with him, and he knew it, though he felt somehow that Jeffrhyss' magic potions weren't entirely to blame. "I'd be putting you at great risk."

"This guy says if you leave voluntarily, Jeffrhyss can't touch me."

"...only if he decides to play by the rules..."

"If something goes wrong, this guy says he'll cover for us."

Heero folded his arms sternly. "I'd very much like to meet 'this guy.' I trust you, but for a decision of this magnitude...I'd just like to see him for myself."

Duo smiled, feeling a bit closer to his goal. "Sure. Just...before you decide, and I know it's a big thing," he said, stepping closer, "you need to know that I can't let you go any easier than Jeffrhyss can. I was going to go back to the cottage with or without you, but now that I've seen you, I can't." He dove forward and embraced Heero again, burying his face in the boy's shoulder, his voice wavering. "I don't care where I have to hide or for how long, but I _have_ to stay with you tonight or I'll go crazy. Stuff me in the closet or hide me under the bed if it's the only way we can stay out of trouble, but please don't make me leave. You don't know how awful it's been..."

Heero drew both arms around Duo and stroked his hair. "Yes, I do." They held each other for another few blissful minutes before the rest of the evening's work cried out to be done. They let go, and Heero steeled himself with a slow, deep breath. "Alright, let's go see this new friend of yours."

**********  
  


Relena knew something was wrong when she saw Heero dip back into the ballroom with Violet, the deaf girl, clinging to his arm. She watched them weave through the crowd and stop in front of the girl's uncle, the unpronounceable Swedish admiral. Heero stayed with the taller man while Violet ran back out of the ballroom and down the hall. Something in between jealousy and curiosity made Relena follow.

Violet ducked down this hallway and that, unaware that she was being followed at a distance. Finally, she spotted what she was looking for, a brunette housemaid with nothing to do. Violet snuck up behind the girl and grabbed her by the arms. The maid yelped and jumped around, then clapped both hands over her mouth, while Violet held a finger up to her own. Fortunately for them, Relena was too far away to make out what they were saying.

"Oh...my..._God,_" Hilde gasped after getting an eyeful of something nature didn't intend.

"I missed you, kiddo!" Duo whispered with glee. "How's everybody doing? How's the _food_ been lately?"

"Fine, and not so fine. Duo..." Hilde swallowed, scratched her head, walked a complete circle around Duo, and stopped where she had stood. "You know that _thing_ we were discussing about you and your...um...preferences? Don't you think this is taking it a _little_ bit too far?"

Duo stuck his tongue out at her. "It's not permanent, smarty. Listen, I need you to do something for me. Do you know where Heero's room is in this place?"

"Of course!"

"Okay, there's this cottage on the east lawn, pretty far from the house, and what I want you to do is..." Duo hung an arm around Hilde's shoulders and explained her task as they meandered down the halls. Before he'd even finished speaking, Hilde was nodding and grinning in agreement.

**********  
  


Heero stood alone with the stranger in the red military dinner jacket, eyeing him carefully. Any associate of Jeffrhyss was potentially very dangerous, but it felt right to trust Duo's judgement and give the man a chance. They were just behind the drinks table, and the stranger plucked a glass of champagne off of it and held it out to Heero. "You look like you could use this."

The man's voice echoed through Heero's memory and triggered something long forgotten, something less than pleasant, and his weaker self would have taken the sparkling beverage from him straight away, but he hesitated. Since reuniting with Duo, he no longer felt any need for alcohol. "No, thank you."

"Hmm, don't mind if I do..." The stranger tipped the glass back and downed the contents in one gulp. Putting the empty goblet back down, he looked Heero over in a nonthreatening way, he hoped. "Do you know me?"

"I know your voice," Heero said, visibly shaken by that fact. "There have been many voices...yours was one of the less frequent ones."

The stranger nodded. "Duo knows me as Giorgenson, much the way you know your master as Jeffrhyss, but I promise you, I've no designs on your friend. Got out of that business a long time ago, in spirit if not in practice. I'm more interested now in undoing some of the damage Jeffrhyss has done."

Heero tilted his head to the side. "Why?"

Giorgenson shrugged. "Some people say Hail Marys to atone for their sins, others walk around wearing hair shirts and sackcloth...I liberate agents, the ones that really need liberating. The ones that can stand the horrors of freedom." He could see that Heero accepted his answer without fully undertanding it. "I'll tell you both more when you're up to it, but I'd concentrate on getting through your trial of fire first."

"I need to know what you've already told him," Heero said firmly. "I've taken great pains to protect him from all this--"

"And he already knew far more than you intended before he even met me," Giorgenson finished without invitation. "You couldn't have prevented that, not with him. He's just as protective of you, and believe me, I didn't pressure him into any of this." He stopped, thought, then took out his beloved pipe. "Well, the dress took some talking into, but that's it. He was determined from the start to do this...I just gave him guidance, and a little information, enough to quench his immediate thirst."

"If he wants information so badly, fine," Heero conceded, "but I wouldn't have lied to him the way _you_ did. He's worthy of the truth, if he's to have anything at all."

Giorgenson looked quite innocent. "Who lied?"

"Voluntary relocation clause. You told him that if I left my assignment freely, Jeffrhyss wouldn't attack him for assisting me. Be serious! Since when did the rulebook make one bit of difference in his actions?"

"He helped _write_ that rulebook," Giorgenson reminded him, "and he'd follow it again if he had to...if someone forced him to..." Heero continued to glare. "Listen, son, I promised him that you and him and the good doctor would be safe while you were being freed, and you _will_ be. As soon as the three of you are settled, I'll be going right over to see Jeffrhyss and square it with him. No specifics between us, but I have one or two things I'm still holding over his head. He'll listen to me."

"And then what?"

Giorgenson received a nasty look from one of the waiters and extinguished his pipe. "One bite at a time, m'boy. Don't gobble. Concentrate on the now." Too much time passed in which Heero was unable to think of a suitable comeback, and Violet returned after her mysterious absence. She coiled her arm around Heero's and set her chin on his shoulder, smiling fondly. Giorgenson smiled at them both, and especially at the way Violet's eyes lit up when the orchestra broke into a lively gavotte. "I think she'd like a turn around the dance floor, don't you?" Giorgenson suggested, knowing that Heero needed that extra bit of convincing to shove him over the edge.

Violet tugged on his arm, ignoring his protests, and managed to push him into the stream of traffic, after which he was helpless to resist. The pair joined in the dance with dozens of other couples, swirling around the ballroom in a sea of glitter and colour. Normally, Heero loathed participating in such trivial wastes of time, even in the line of duty, but with Duo it was different; the rhythmic movements were not totally alien to his karate training, and it just seemed comfortable, if a little strange. While it may have been the champagne affecting his vision, Giorgenson could have sworn that he saw Heero laugh, just once and very quickly, at something Duo said or did while they glided across the floor. _Heero laughing?_ the Professor thought, raising his eyes and his hands to heaven. _There is a God._

Sadly, for the next dance, and her favourite, a waltz at that, one girl in the ballroom was without a partner. Relena was standing against the north wall, with her arms clutched about her and a piercing, hypnotic look on her face as she watched Heero and Violet sway to the strains of the flute and the violin. Her faith in Heero was now hanging by a tenuous thread, and the slightest pull could snap it at any time. Not wanting to see anything that would make her decision for her in a moment of rage, she left the ballroom and went up to her room to run out the clock on a positively hideous evening. No one saw her leave.

Nimbly navigating the ballroom floor in perfect time with the music, Duo looked Heero straight in the eye and asked him the question that made the dress, the flowers, and the goofy hair all worthwhile. "So...are you coming with me or what?"

Heero smiled faintly. "Yes."

**********  
  


Hilde paced in front of the cottage bearing the first of many loads of Heero's belongings. She happily volunteered to transport all his clothes, books, and assorted bits and pieces out of Sutherby Hall and put them in the appropriate room of the cottage Duo had described to her, but it wasn't as simple as it sounded. She couldn't get into the cottage, or rather, didn't want to just yet. She paced and paced, throwing desperate looks in the direction of the house until finally, four figures came into focus and seemed to be walking towards her.

Duo in a dress, Sally in a dress, Heero in a suit, and some kind of circus clown masquerading as military personnel were making the long trek in the dark, talking all the way. The clown seemed to be giving Sally instructions about checking someone's temperature and blood pressure every eight hours until there was a significant change, and Duo had his arm around Heero, telling him everything was going to be fine and not totally believing it yet. As they neared the cottage, Duo saw that Hilde was still standing outside with a bundle of Heero's clothes and looked very puzzled.

"What are you standing out here for? It's not locked, is it?"

"No, it's not locked, and right now, I'd prefer that it was, but we can't have everything we want in life, so just shut up!" All four looked at Hilde like she'd grown a third arm out of her neck just to smack herself upside the head with. "Look, this isn't working. I can't get in there because of some moron's idea of a practical joke!"

Duo looked worried at her obvious distress. "What's wrong? What practical joke?"

"Somebody must have heard me!" Hilde whined. "Some dumb twit must have heard me say that I thought foxes were cute and I'd like one as a pet! Okay, I admit I was being stupid! They're cute, but they've got pointy teeth and claws and they could be rabid for all I know!"

"You wanna get to the point?" Duo said, tiring of her exhibition.

Hilde tightened her arms around the bundle of clothes. "Someone put a bunch of foxes in your cottage! Go look in the window if you don't believe me!"

The other four rushed to the nearest window. There was only a bit of moonlight streaming in from the window in the opposite wall, but it gave them an adequate view of the kitchen, and the mess that was made in it. The six cabbages Duo's landlady had left on the counter for him were reduced to tatters, and bits of unfinished leaves were scattered everywhere, on the floor, and the furniture, and a few unfortunate pieces were sticking to the walls. It was much more difficult to locate any creatures capable or even willing to scarf down a week's worth of vegetables, but Hilde wasn't lying. They spotted a red furry tail with a white tip darting underneath one of the kitchen chairs into a shadow, and that was all the proof they needed.

"See? Told ya. Foxes."

"I heard at the ball that the hunt was a failure because all the foxes went missing!" Sally exclaimed. "Duo, you haven't seriously been keeping--"

"No way! This was _not_ my doing!" They all stood around wondering what to do next. "Well, they can't stay here! Somebody get them out!"

While there was a general argument about who should be the one to risk getting bitten, Heero walked calmly to the front door, opened it, stepped inside, lit the first match that came to hand, and at the sudden intrusion of unwanted light into the safety of their cave, five wild foxes scurried out of the cottage. The others saw them scamper away and disappear to their particular corners of the grounds, sighed with relief, then laughed.

Heero's highly analytical brain needed more information before he could coexist peacefully with what he had just seen, and soon after, he got it. The lit match created a pool of orange light that was the top of the kitchen table, and sitting in the centre of the table, licking her paws and looking quite pleased with herself, was Shadow. Heero's blissful evening was complete, and it showed on his face for once. He transferred the flame to a lantern, set it on the table, and picked Shadow up, cradling her and feeling genuine peace in his heart. "Don't you worry me like that ever again, you hear me?" he whispered.

Shadow meowed, then purred, satisfied that she had done her job well. All she was doing was helping someone escape a fate they didn't deserve, five furry someones who would all sleep soundly and live to see another day.

The others filed in, and Duo's eyes glistened at the sight of his old kitty companion. "Whoa! She's gotten so big! What have you been feeding her?" The two of them didn't talk much more than that, and just took turns rubbing Shadow's tummy and telling her what a good cat she was. Soon, Sally, Hilde, and the Professor took the hint that they'd be best off on their own for awhile. Hilde left the bundle of clothes and went back to the house, and Giorgenson took Sally back to her bed and breakfast, with a promise to the boys that he'd have her and all her equipment back at a totally unreasonable hour the following day. They shut the door behind them, and thoughtfully gave Duo and Heero some time alone to reconnect.

"I don't wanna clean up this mess tonight, do you?"

"Not really, no." Heero picked up a leaf fragment from the table and examined it. "Foxes eat cabbage?"

"I guess if they're hungry enough, and desperate enough, they'll eat anything. They must've been in here all day, poor little guys." Duo went over to the counter and grinned with glee at the discovery that his special surprise under the heavy glass dome had been left untouched. "They didn't get _this_, though!" He brought the domed plate over to the table, uncovering it, and Heero had to smile at what it contained--a chocolate cake with a file in it.

"Very symbolic," Heero observed.

"Indeedy!" Duo agreed. "You're going to be a free man soon, I'm sure of it."

Without further delay, they grabbed plates and forks, and dove into the cake, eating much more than they probably should have, but it didn't matter, because they were celebrating. Afterwards, it being very late already, they simply sat by the fire all bundled up together in the plaid woolen blanket and talked, longer than they probably should have, but it didn't matter, because they were celebrating. When they were too tired to keep their eyes open, they went to sleep in the same bed, as they so dearly missed doing, and held each other until morning. They got up very, very late, because even in sleep, they were celebrating.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Forty: Heero's road to recovery is anything but smooth, as the old familiar withdrawl symptoms creep in, and there's no twelve-step program in the world that can help him._

=@_@= I...am...zonked. I just spent...damn, I can't count, I'm that tired. A lot of hours on the road, that's all I know. *squeeeee* I love this episode, though. I hope you find it was worth the wait. =^_^= G'nite!


	40. Fever

**Warnings:** Slight angst, Kleenex beneficial for some, but not required for all. Oh yes! and..._Hilde's Motives Revealed!!!_...finally. =^_~=

**Disclaimer:** In a town called Perfect where there's a Walgreen's on every street corner, every author and authoress has their own set of Gundam pilots to love and to squeeze and to show off to all their friends. But we don't live anywhere near Perfect. *realizes she just ripped off a commercial to explain that she's not ripping off a tv show* Dangit.

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Forty: Fever

_"When I was a child, I caught a fleeting glimpse,  
Out of the corner of my eye,  
I turned to look, but it was gone,  
I cannot put my finger on it now,  
The child is grown, the dream is gone." ~Pink Floyd, "Comfortably Numb" _

March 16th, 1902

The first two days Duo and Heero spent in the cottage together were bliss beyond bliss. It was as if all their worldly troubles were suspended in time--no duties, no pressures, no mission, and especially no Peacecrafts. They talked so long that their voices nearly gave out several times, and spent their evenings curled up in front of the fire with a mug of throat-soothing hot cocoa each and one warm woolen blanket to share between them. It was such an enjoyable time that Heero hardly remembered the appointment with Lord Jeffrhyss that he was missing on purpose. On the third day, he got a nasty reminder.

Heero woke up with little appetite for breakfast, and he knew that the long withdrawal process he'd been dreading had finally begun. Sally, who had been checking in on them twice a day, moved out of the bed and breakfast and into one of the spare bedrooms of the cottage, and Heero explained as well as he could to her, and to Duo, about the strange smoke treatments he'd been receiving for the past four months.

It didn't take Duo long to make the connection between the start of the treatments and the date of his trial, and on some level, he had always known that Heero made some kind of personal sacrifice to save him from prison, he just didn't know what until that day. To spare Heero's feelings, he opted not to make a big deal out of it, yet.

In the days that followed, Heero's condition deteriorated as his system reacted to the lack of chemicals it was craving. It started as simple stomach cramps and a lack of appetite, but fatigue, dizziness, a high temperature and more severe pain soon followed. Sally took numerous blood samples and ran them through her personally-designed gauntlet of glassware and chemicals, trying to identify what it was he needed, as well as a way to alleviate his symptoms, but to little success. Once Hilde had finished smuggling Heero's belongings out of the house, she volunteered for extra duties, and she and Duo took turns sitting up with Heero and daubing his face and neck with cool cloths as he lay suffering in Duo's bed. After several days, he began slipping in and out of consciousness, and his keepers were very worried.

Duo woke up on the sofa in his borrowed room, with a kink in his back and a crick in his neck, and immediately sat up and looked at the familiar scene before him. Heero was asleep but in poor shape, having been unable to eat for some time; even at rest, he was glazed in sweat, with his shirt unbuttoned to the waist and a pained expression crimping his closed eyes. Hilde saw that Duo was awake, but kept her eyes on her patient. She had been sitting upright in a hard wooden chair all night, and seemed to have enough vigilance for a hundred more nights like it.

"I used to have dreams like this," she whispered. "They'd always start with the three of us, living happily somewhere...I used to dream about taking care of you both. I'd do all the cleaning, you'd do all the cooking, and Heero would have some important job somewhere...maybe a bank manager, or a city councillor or something...and I dreamt that I'd take care of you when you got sick, and that I'd be sitting by your bedsides, pressing cool cloths to your foreheads, opening and closing the curtains for you, bringing you water, just like I'm doing now. I know I could be happy if it was just the three of us. You two would have your own room, and I'd have mine, and it'd be okay...much better than choosing one of you and not seeing the other, or turning conservative and losing you both." She sighed lightly, holding back tears. "It's all gone wrong, Duo...we're being punished..."

"No, we're not," Duo insisted, rising to comfort her. Satisfied that he wouldn't disturb Heero in the slightest, he sat down on the bed facing her. "This is only one man's fault, and since he's not here for us to yell at, you're blaming yourself instead."

Hilde shook her head. "When I met you, I was too young to know what I wanted. When you found me last year and got me this job, I felt confused. Then I met Heero, and I saw the way you two were with each other, and suddenly my own feelings made sense. I've never really needed to get married or have children, and I'm not sure that I ever will, and that's why I convinced myself that I'd be perfectly happy living with you guys and basking in whatever glow you created together. It felt safe because I wouldn't be committing to either one of you, and yet I could admire you both from afar...and if you were..._together_...it meant that no other woman could have you." She sniffled and brushed at her eyes with the back of her hand. "I was being so selfish!"

Duo took her hand and squeezed it, propping one foot up on the bed and wrapping his free arm around his knee. "Look...you can't call this divine retribution because it was going on long before either of us met him. His boss is the one you should be mad at. I sure as hell am..." Duo was glad of her help, but felt edgy telling her anything about Jeffrhyss, even his name. Nevertheless, once she saw how sick Heero was, she insisted on looking after him from time to time so Duo could get some sleep, and she had to be told _something_. "You're just saying these things because you're tired. You go on back to the house, before they notice you're not at the breakfast table. I'll do the late shift tonight, you get some rest."

Hilde rose painfully from her chair, well aware of what those late nights of playing nursemaid on that stiff wooden perch were doing to her back. Massaging the side of her neck with a yawn, she looked down at Heero and sighed. "Do you think he can hear us?"

Duo followed her gaze with uncertainty. Heero had been teetering back and forth on the edge between peaceful sleep and feverish delirium for the past three days, and even if Duo said something directly to him, he couldn't always understand what was being said. At the moment, he appeared to be asleep, but one could never tell. "Who knows? Even if he can hear us, it might sound like gibberish to him anyway. I had a bad fever once when I was little, and nothing I saw or heard made sense. It was real scary."

Hilde leaned down and gave Heero a quick goodbye kiss on the forehead. His skin was burning hot and oddly clammy at the same time, and the natural tan he had only a week ago was blanched clean. "I wonder what he's seeing and hearing right now..."

**********  
  


_Heero was wandering around a plain room with plain walls, a little hungry and very bored. In the room were some chairs, but they were all too big for him to climb into. There were also two men in matching clothes standing on either side of the door, but they couldn't understand Heero and Heero couldn't understand them. The men didn't seem concerned with this, however, so Heero wasn't bothered with it either._

He'd been in that little room for a long time with nothing to do. There were a few things on the walls to look at, but they were much too high. In fact, everything in the room was too high; it certainly wasn't designed with little people like Heero in mind. The table was so tall that he could walk right underneath it without touching the underside with the top of his head, so he did so. The two men chuckled and said something to each other. Heero looked up at them, but they only smirked.

Heero then looked up at the table. The top of it was see-through, like a window pane, and there were a lot of boring things sitting on it--papers, books, an ink well, and a glass of water. In between two piles of paper, Heero could see a little fuzzy blob, brightly coloured in orange, yellow, white, and black. It was his little stuffed tiger, the one he brought from home. He wanted it, so he reached up to grab it, but his hand knocked against the glass and stopped.

The two men laughed again. One of them walked up to the table, picked up the little tiger, and pitched it underneath to Heero. It hit the floor and bounced happily. Heero picked it up, sat down on the floor, and cuddled it, making little growling noises and marching it back and forth across an invisible line.

Heero and his tiger were busily hunting imaginary rabbits when the door opened, and someone walked in. It was the man with no feet, and he came over with a 'clunk-clunk-thud, clunk-clunk-thud.' The two wooden legs and the cane always made that sound. The man spoke Heero's name in a gravelly voice and held a hand out under the table. That was another peculiar thing about the man with no feet, he only had one hand; the other was a hook. Heero obediently took the hand and crawled out from under the table, allowing himself to be led out of the room, still clutching his little stuffed tiger.

They walked very slowly down a long hallway with a concrete floor. It smelled dank and musty, and there wasn't very much light. Finally, they reached a door with two more men standing beside it, wearing the same clothes as the first two men. They opened the door and entered a kind of tiny amphitheatre full of men in suits and long white coats. There was a large area of floor with a heavy desk and office chair, antiques with an ugly wax build-up, and there was a half-circle of seats behind a wooden barrier that arched up towards the back corner of the room, like a lecture hall.

Almost every seat was filled, and they were all looking at Heero. It made him very nervous. He raised his tiger hand and started gnawing on his thumbnail, looking shyly up at all those pairs of eyes...studying him...evaluating him... The man with no legs pulled the hand away from Heero's mouth and gave it a little smack. Heero dropped his tiger and whimpered.

"Gentlemen," the gravelly voice boomed, "this is what I brought you here to see. I have just acquired this child, and you have all been summoned here to meet him, for he represents everything we have always dreamed of achieving. No longer will we lose our best agents to personality defects, for we will be able to mould new personalities to suit our purpose. This agent will be perfect from the very beginning...obedient, efficient, incapable of error. This boy is our future."

The men in the semicircle of arena seats started grumbling and murmuring, looking at Heero with disapproval. He picked up his tiger and hugged it to him for protection, made even more nervous by all the strangers talking in gibberish. Suddenly, a new voice cut through the din, snide and confident. "How exactly did you 'acquire' him? Are we going to be seeing his face on posters all over Europe now?"

Heads turned all around the gallery to give unpleasant glares to a man in the back row, cloaked in darkness except for a thin plume of grey smoke. "How did you get in!?" the man with no legs shouted. Heero shrank away and shuddered; he didn't know what the man said, but he sounded angry. Heero wondered if he'd done something wrong. "This meeting was intended for my private associates, not spies from rival factions!"

"Would you relax?" the shadowed man said. "You're going to give yourself a coronary. I'm not here as one of The Five, I'm here as a concerned citizen who wouldn't dream of copying your methods, this time. Frankly, I'm appalled. I mean, look at him! He's barely out of his crib and you've got him pegged as an agent already? Give the kid a break!"

"Starting an agent's training this early is, thus far, the best way to guarantee success. Loyalty and stability are two things which have been sorely lacking in my recent experiments, and I intend to correct this starting today!"

The room erupted into a dozen different arguments for and against what the man with no legs had said. Heero didn't like it; all those angry men yelling all at once were scaring him. He squeezed his tiger tight and tried to slip his hand away from the man's, but he wouldn't let go. The yelling got louder, and Heero's bright blue eyes began to water. He wanted his mother. He wanted to go home.

"Hapo?" Heero called out in a pathetic little child's voice. He kept looking around for his mother, but she wasn't there. Heero thought then that he hadn't seen her for days. Where was she? "Hapo? Ehunak an?"

Some of the men quieted themselves. One in the first row looked down the end of his nose at the boy and squinted. "Unusual...what language is he speaking?"

The man with no legs looked down at his charge briefly. "I don't know. He speaks Japanese as well, but seems more comfortable with this backwater dialect. Not to worry. I'll break him of it soon enough. His energy would be better used elsewhere."

"It's like nothing I've ever heard!" a second man in the gallery whispered.

"Yes, let him speak! We want to hear more!" a third piped up.

Now they were all staring at him, ravenously hungry scientists, the lot of them. Heero's lower lip trembled, and the first of many tears broke free and rolled down his cheek. "Hapo?" he cried sadly. "Tane kuhosipi rusuy...entura wa enkore...Hapo? Ehunak an?" He was suddenly terrified that his mother had gone home without him. She must have left him, otherwise, wouldn't she have been there? Why would she go without saying goodbye? Had he done something bad? Didn't she love him anymore?

Heero started to cry. The shadowed man way in the back breathed out a big puff of smoke and clucked his tongue at the others. "Now see what you've done. You big bullies..." A few men around him chuckled, but the rest of them kept staring at little Heero with their frightening glares and contemptuous frowns, and it only made him cry harder. Soon, he couldn't stop.

**********  
  


Duo wanted to wake Sally when Heero began tossing and turning fitfully, but something told him not to. A few minutes later, Heero started talking in his sleep, uttering strange sounds that Duo had never heard before. He knew that he _should_ have called Sally in from the guest room, but again, something stopped him. Instead, he grabbed pencil and paper from the kitchen and tried to write down the mutterings.

Heero looked terrible, deathly pale, slick with sweat, with deep circles under his eyes and the same mind-bending fever as he had earlier. He was tucked in bed up to his waist but was very lightly thrashing as if in the grip of a terrible nightmare, retaining at least a fraction of his dignity while being torn to shreds by delirium. His fists were twitching around handfuls of the bedsheets, his head lolled back and forth on his pillow, and his breathing was uncomfortably ragged. Both eyes were clenched shut in some kind of pain, and he kept whispering the same words over and over.

".....tane kuhosipi rusuy.....entura wa enkore.......tane kuhosipi rusuy..."

Duo scribbled madly, trying to capture the verbal essence of Heero's dream before it vanished, but as soon as he had it copied down, he couldn't stand to see Heero in such agony, and shook him awake. Heero very nearly choked as he was dragged back to reality; he shot straight up, eyes wide, and Duo jerked away sharply, very much startled. It took them both a moment to calm down, after which Heero gave Duo a tired and questioning look.

"You were having a nightmare," Duo said softly.

Heero nodded, unusually coherent for once, and looked at himself and the overall state of his health. "From the look of things, I'm still in it." He tossed off the sheets and swung his legs over the side of the bed, and just as he was looking down at a pair of trousers that he didn't think he was wearing before, and wondering what day it was, Duo spoke up again.

"What were you dreaming about?"

Heero propped himself up heavily and struggled to remember whatever vision Duo was talking about, but it had long since turned to dust. "I have no idea."

"Well...you were talking in your sleep...and it didn't sound like English..." The same force that stopped Duo from calling Sally in from the next room also stopped him from showing Heero the paper on which was written the best approximation of his words that Duo could make. He touched a hand to the boy's forehead while slipping the paper into his pocket with his other hand, and Heero shut his eyes and wobbled a bit. "You've still got a bad fever. Do you think you could manage a little juice for breakfast?" Heero shook his head weakly. "No? ...okay, I'll bring Sally in as soon as she wakes up." He helped Heero lie back down and tucked him in, but the brave face he'd been putting on all week was wearing thinner every day. Heero told them to expect some kind of illness, but it couldn't be over soon enough; instead of getting better, it was getting worse. Duo shut the bedroom door very quietly on his way out to the kitchen.

**********  
  


Starting the night of the hunt ball, Relena isolated herself from the rest of the household. No one except Doris was allowed near her bedroom suite, and she was only permitted to leave the girl's meals on a tray outside her door. Treize showed little interest in approaching her to ask what was wrong, for he had called in a telephone repairman at his own expense and was spending the lion's share of his time on it. Dorothy tried once, the day after the ball when Relena hadn't shown up for breakfast or lunch, but Relena politely told her that she needed time to think, alone. Otto avoided the situation altogether because, in his opinion, if Heero disappeared and broke her heart, it was her own fault for trusting a total stranger.

The only other instruction Relena left with the staff was that the morning mail should be brought directly to her room without delay. Each day, she separated out the household bills and the social invitations, and fairly often, there was one letter left over. Someone was still writing to Heero, and she kept everything with his name on it in a dresser drawer, safe from prying eyes; on this day, however, the leftover letter wasn't what she expected. It was addressed to Duo.

Unlike Heero's letters, which were sent directly to Sutherby Hall in Hampshire, this letter was sent to Bridlewood and was forwarded post haste. It didn't appear to have had a smooth journey, however, as it was missing the postcode and spent nearly two months bouncing from one sorting office to another, judging by the postmarks, stamped messages, and hand-written notes all over the envelope.

Relena decided to put it in the drawer with the others, and took one last look at the postmark before doing so. _I wonder who he knows in Ireland,_ she thought on a reflex. _No, I don't wonder. I don't care, not one bit._

She sat on her bed and resumed her much-needed thinking, but a recurrent theme kept popping into her head no matter how hard she tried to shove it out--the mental image of Heero running away with Violet. The more she thought about it, the more her eyes shifted to the dresser drawer with Duo's letter in it, and an even more disturbing picture formed. She was just contemplating the implications of that picture when she heard frantic voices approaching her heavy chamber door.

"...left orders not to be disturbed by anyone!"

"This is too important! She needs to know!"

"I shouldn't have even told _you_! How is it that you always, _always_ know who's got something to hide!?"

The voices were quelled, and a soft knocking took their place. "Miss Relena?" It sounded like Quatre, but Relena didn't feel like talking to anyone, even him. "We need to speak with you. May we come in?"

Weighed against the prospect of dwelling on Duo and Violet, however, having a few visitors in suddenly didn't seem that bad. "Come in," she said, getting up tiredly.

The door swung open with a squeak and a groan, revealing Trowa, Quatre, and Hilde, who had formed some kind of inseparable clique while Relena wasn't looking. They filed in and lined up before her, like good servants always did, but Quatre broke formation within seconds and stood directly in front of her. "We know where Heero is. Are you interested?"

The deliberation was brief. "Not really."

"Please, you _can't_ leave it like this," said Quatre. "You have every right to be angry at him for vanishing like that, but you also have a right to know where you stand. You need closure. I just found out this minute that he's in one of the cottages on the grounds, and that he's fallen ill. It could be an act, I really don't know...but don't you owe it to yourself to confront him?"

Relena's eyes darted to the dresser, and again she thought of the letter to Duo inside. She considered asking them, her loyal servants, whether they had seen the girl named Violet at the ball, whether they had noticed anything strange about her, whether they had seen the way Heero paid attention to her, but thought again, and decided the answer wouldn't be worth the effort of asking the question. "I think I already know where I stand. If he wants to apologize, he can come and see me."

Quatre bowed stiffly from the waist. "M'lady..." He led the delegation out and shut the bedroom door, then turned immediately to Hilde. "Take us to him," he whispered.

"I should've kept my mouth shut," Hilde sputtered. "This could already get me into _so_ much trouble..."

"Now that I know he's here, it's only a matter of time until I find him," Quatre replied harshly. "There are things that need to be settled with him, and if she won't do it, I will. All I'm asking is for you to skim a few hours off my search time so I can get back indoors with Trowa where I know I'm safe, but make no mistake, I can find him with or without your help."

Hilde glanced over at Trowa for support, but he shook his head. "Don't look at me. When he gets in a mood like this, there's no prying that bone from between his teeth. Just roll with it."

The housemaid sighed and turned down the hall towards the stairs. "Alright, follow me..."

**********  
  


Duo sat by Heero's bedside for even more uncountable minutes and seconds while he waited for Sally's latest status report. The Doctor had set up a temporary laboratory in the sitting room, with beakers and bottles and jars of brown and white powders, but all her paraphernalia couldn't bring her any closer to a solution. In the meantime, Heero had fallen unconscious again, and while they were alone, Duo indulged himself in a detailed study of his friend, secure in the knowledge that Heero wasn't about to wake up and shoo him away.

He had picked up one of Heero's hands and was poring over his palm, tracing every line with his own fingers. Night after night while they were apart, Duo had dreamed of those hands. They were two of the most captivating things about Heero, solid steel instruments of death that were still capable of such unerring gentleness, proof that his humanity hadn't been totally stripped from him yet. Duo wrapped both of his hands around that one of Heero's and squeezed it. The boy's hand was getting cold as he plunged from fever to chills. Duo pressed the cool hand against the side of his face and shut his eyes in worry and grief.

In the distance, he heard a knock at the door, and dropped the hand back on the bed in an instant. Sally was closer, so she got to the door first, but Duo left the bedroom at the same time to see who it was. He almost wished he'd stayed in the bedroom when Sally stepped aside to reveal their guests. "Whaddaya think you're doing!? This place was supposed to be a secret!"

Hilde slouched and picked at her fingernails. "They _made_ me tell! They were getting ready to break out the thumbscrews, I swear! What else could I do?"

"Morning, Duo," Trowa said, scooting inside and scoping out the brunch possibilities.

"I need to talk to Heero," Quatre said pointedly while Hilde followed Trowa inside.

"Yeah, well, he's not in a talking mood," Duo replied. "He's sick, and you two shouldn't be here."

"If he's that sick, maybe you and Hilde shouldn't be here either."

Duo winced, moaned, slumped, and crashed against the doorframe, all in about three seconds. "Alright, alright, get in! Just don't let anybody see you!" he griped, yanking Quatre in by the arm and slamming the door. Soon the five of them were standing around in the kitchen, waiting for the show to start. Hilde and Trowa were looking curiously at Sally, who had her arms folded over a simple blouse, under a blue suede belt, over a pair of tailored trousers in a blue-grey gabardine. Being the open-minded, progressive youngsters that they were, the two of them were mildly surprised to see a woman in pants, but not offended. Quatre ignored all three of them and stared at Duo, waiting for him to explain himself. Duo exchanged hopeless looks with Sally and shrugged. "I guess you want to have a look at him first."

He led them to his bedroom, opened the door, and let Trowa and Quatre see for themselves. The two boys gaped in shock at the sight. Even in the dim light tinted blue by the curtains, Heero looked gaunt and pale beyond their worst expectations. Quatre dropped the veil of anger he'd been hiding under all morning and finally felt the thick fog of worry blanketing the cottage. He clutched a hand to his heart and staggered forward to examine him more closely. "What's wrong with him?"

Sally gave Duo the nod to tell them whatever he liked. "I'll just be a minute. I've got a different mixture of herbs I want to try." She excused herself to her makeshift laboratory, and Hilde wandered over to the sofa under the window.

Duo wrung his braid as he looked over the audience of two in front of him. _There's no way to explain this but with the truth,_ he decided, swallowing. "Remember when all that stuff came out about Treize, and about Lord Peacecraft's death? And you, Quat, you just guessed last week that Heero was sent here specifically to investigate?"

Trowa nodded numbly, never taking his eyes off Heero, while Quatre stood still as stone. "What are you saying...that this is Treize's idea of retaliation?"

"Not...exactly. He was ordered to watch Treize, but not by the authorities. He's a spy, working for a big international conglomerate, and they wanted information on Treize so they sent him here to make friends with Relena, because it was the only way he could keep an eye on the jerk without drawing attention to himself. It got out of hand with the engagement and everything, and he never intended to hurt her, but he didn't have much of a choice."

Quatre reached down and gingerly felt around Heero's wrist for a pulse, only to draw back uncomfortably when he actually found it. "But why is he so sick?"

Just as Quatre spoke, Sally returned with a red satin pouch embroidered with a colourful dragon and sat down next to the bed. "I can field that one. Since approximately early November of last year, Heero's employer has been administering some kind of drug to him, for what, I don't know. Without a sample, I can't be sure even what chemical it is, but last week, Heero rebelled against his organization by not returning for any more doses, and this is the result. Whatever he was being given is highly addictive, and he's been suffering withdrawal symptoms for several days. I'm doing what I can to make him more comfortable, but at the moment, that's _all_ I can do."

Trowa had to sit down. "This is...unfathomable! Spies, drugs, secret organizations? It defies belief!"

"I was _so_ awful to him," Quatre moaned, half-burying his face in his hands. "When I caught him drinking on the morning of the hunt, I chewed him out for toying with Relena's feeling...I didn't imagine _anything_ like this...I _couldn't_ have...oh, it _can't_ be true, it just can't!"

"But it is," a stranger's voice said confidently. They all turned their heads to the bedroom door, all except Heero. A figure in white stepped through the shadows and into the dim pool of light. It was Wufei. "It's all true, and I promise you, it gets much worse." He turned to Duo and smirked. "And lock your front door next time."

**********  
  


Treize had no qualms about letting Dorothy listen in on his telephone conversations, because few of them were conducted in either English or Italian. The one he was engrossed in while she happened to be passing by the lounge, she judged, must have been very good news to result in such a gleefully evil grin on his face. Curious and bored, she sauntered in and plunked herself down in the chair opposite him, listening to the one-sided banter in a foreign tongue. Eventually Treize hung up the phone and smiled. "You're going to love this."

"Well, I'd better," the Baroness quipped. "There's even less to do out here in the country than there was in London."

"I know where the gold is."

That got Dorothy's attention at light speed. "Where is it!?"

Treize chuckled at his own ingenuity. "It never left Bridlewood. Four of my men were watching the estate long after the others left and saw that boy, Wufei, leaving the property late last night. He seemed to have been hiding in the carpenter's cottage all this time."

Dorothy gasped. "But...how does that tell you where the gold is?"

"Simple. My men converged on the cottage, and found the carpenter there alone. They said he was quite unhelpful at first, but after some...gentle persuasion...he revealed the location to them."

"You...they didn't..._kill_ him, did they...?"

Treize was horribly slow to answer, and his smile wanted to do all the talking for him. "No, he'll live...but he'll also learn to be a little more polite to guests that come knocking at his door."

Dorothy looked away uncomfortably. Sure, the old carpenter was uncouth, lower class, and all the rest of it, but she couldn't imagine anyone harming him, not even for gold. It made Quatre's gold especially more attractive because if she played her cards right, she could still make out like a bandit without personally spilling anyone's blood. "Well...where is it, then?"

"Ah, now if I told you that, you wouldn't need me, would you?" Dorothy scowled, and Treize laughed heartily as she got up and marched out of the lounge in a newly-formed sour mood. It was turning out to be a wonderful day after all. _And now,_ he thought, picking up the phone again, _I'll make another inquiry as to whether or not Captain Peacecraft has had his little 'mishap' yet. That would really make my day..._

**********  
  


It took the rookies less than a minute to figure out that Wufei was much more than their friendly neighbourhood interior decorator. Duo was just glad to see that the boy had brought the rest of his belongings, especially his box of recipe cards, but Wufei's stern expression and severe tone erased what little good cheer was left in the cottage. Wufei set his duffel bag and Duo's carpet bag on the walnut floor and straightened his white buttoned suit. "Jeffrhyss has his men patrolling the immediate ten miles around the Peacecraft estate. He's looking for you."

Duo's eyes bulged. "What!? He wasn't supposed to come after us if Heero left the house of his own accord!"

"I met your 'professor' friend," Wufei snorted. "Your little plan didn't work. Jeffrhyss wants Heero back in whatever condition he's in, and he wants him _now_. That Giorgenson person is running all over the county throwing Jeffrhyss' agents off the scent to keep your hideout a secret, but he can't keep it up forever. I checked in with Jeffrhyss on my way to find you, and he instructed me to inform him if I found either of you, but...considering our past partnership...I don't see that it's immediately necessary."

Duo slouched and sighed. "Thanks, man. I owe you several."

Wufei raised an eyebrow. "No argument here."

"Is this someone we should know about?" Trowa asked, obviously meaning Jeffrhyss.

"He calls himself _Lord_ Jeffrhyss," Wufei said. "Heero and I work for him, but on different assignments. He's a powerful and dangerous man, and now that you know of his existence, you're all in danger too."

Quatre felt Hilde shiver with fear across the room and went to the sofa to comfort her. Duo pulled a chair up to Trowa's, sat down, and gave him a sympathetic look. Sally had no time to waste worrying about their collective circumstance, as she was busily pulling glass vials out of the red satin pouch and mixing their contents with a mortar and pestle. Wufei stared at her. "I don't believe we've been introduced."

"Sally Poole, nice to meet you," she said without looking up.

Wufei looked her over more carefully, especially her eyes, and her bottles and jars, and lastly the red satin pouch, glaring a highly calculated glare. "Ni jiao shen-me ming-zi?"

Sally paused, looked up at him briefly, then went back to grinding her ingredients as if she couldn't understand him. "Beg your pardon?"

"You heard me," Wufei said crossly, "and you understood as well. I could see it in your eyes. Who _are_ you?"

The Doctor sighed with exasperation and thought quickly. _Might as well get it over with. I don't have time to waste on mind games._ "My father's name is Po, and he comes from Penglai. Wo shi Zhongguo ren. Happy now?" Again, she went back to work. Now they were _all_ staring at her. A flurry of questions hit her, about as tactfully as she expected.

"You're Chinese?"

"Why don't you look it?"

"And why didn't you tell us sooner?"

"Can you teach me to make won-ton soup?"

Sally couldn't help but feel motherly amusement at their curiosity, but Wufei still hadn't offered an opinion. From the look on his face, it wasn't going to be a happy one. "You dishonour your ancestors by adopting a Western name, _yangren_."

The faces of Duo, Trowa, Quatre, and Hilde fell all at once. Sally wasn't about to be told off by a smarmy teenager who didn't have all the facts, though. "Look...I'm only half Chinese, and my parents really couldn't give a flying fig _what_ I do with my name, and I'm sure all my dead ancestors don't have much to say about it either. I had to take another name because..." She gave up on the mortar and pestle, putting them down until her story was finished. "I left home wanting to be a doctor, but it's pretty miserable trying to find a school that takes girls in _any_ field, least of all medicine. Once I paid for my degree and all my equipment, I hardly had any money left for non-essentials like food and lodging, so I had to take what space I could get. My home and my office are in a rough corner of London that just happened to have a man named Po already living there, only he ran an opium den out of his basement. I was already struggling to make a living, and getting myself confused with the neighbourhood drug pusher wouldn't have helped my trade any, so I fudged my name a little bit. What's the harm?"

"...well..." Wufei still didn't look happy, but if her deception served a higher purpose, perhaps it was marginally excusable. "Maybe there is none."

"_Thank_ you," Sally heaved, picking up the mortar and pestle again. "One good thing about living in that rat's nest, I got to practice on a lot of withdrawal cases, and it's prepared me well to treat Heero. Some of his symptoms, I've seen many times before."

Duo sat forward on the edge of his chair, wringing his braid again. "You think it's opium addiction?"

"I wish I could say for sure," Sally said, "but only _some_ of the symptoms are consistent with opium withdrawal. Looking at the whole picture makes me suspect there were other ingredients mixed into whatever Jeffrhyss was forcing on him. If only I had a sample of it..."

A grim silence fell upon the bedroom. Getting a sample of Jeffrhyss' top-secret obedience narcotic would be like trying to tie a bell around the neck of a forty-foot cat with poison claws. Blindly treating each individual withdrawal symptom was hardly the most efficient way to make Heero well, but it would have to do. As she had been doing for days already, Sally continued blending the leaves and powders from her red satin pouch in search of the magic bullet that would bring a quicker end to the boy's suffering.

Softening slightly, Wufei perused her selection of bottled herbs from over her shoulder. "What have you been giving him?"

"Haung-chin for detoxification, Pu-gong-ying to cleanse the blood, Da-quing-ye to lower his fever, and some Dang-shen root, because he looked like he needed it," Sally said. "And now that his fever's broken, I'm substituting in Bai-guo-ye and Ma-huang."

Wufei looked down at the mixture and frowned. "Ma-huang? Are you sure that administering ephedrine is the right choice? Have you checked for signs of hypertension? How can you mix an alkaloid with a compound intended to stimulate circulation to the brain without knowing whether natural circulation has been compromised?" Now they were all staring at Wufei instead.

This time, Sally raised an eyebrow. "Secret agent, decorator, part-time herbalist...you _are_ a jack of all trades, aren't you?"

"I'm just making sure you don't screw up and cost our organization one of its most valuable agents," Wufei snarled, stomping over to a bare corner of the room in a huff. Maybe it was all the eyes singeing away his resolve particle by particle, or maybe it was guilt, but he half-turned and offered his advice a little more nicely. "Put that stuff away and use Sheng-di-huang instead," he said quietly.

Sally smirked at her satin bag. "I would if I _had_ some..."

The mood in the room deflated further. Not knowing why, Wufei looked at Duo, and was met by a hopeful, desperate stare. He'd seen that look before, right after Wufei had ratted him out in court about kissing Heero by the railroad tracks. For as much as he thought they were deviant weirdos, the pair of them, Wufei was not immune to the hurt in Duo's eyes, because he knew what it was like to lose one's best friend and soul mate. "I can get some for you," he told Sally over his shoulder.

Duo smiled at the gesture.

Over by the window, Quatre was feeling like they'd all worn out their welcome, himself in particular, after the way he'd railed on Heero for what turned out to be no reason at all. "Maybe...we ought to get out of the way," he said in Trowa's general direction, "let Heero rest...let Sally work..."

"We _have_ got work of our own to do," Hilde added gently," and there's not much we can do here right now..."

Trowa and Duo got up from their chairs simultaneously and faced each other. Behind eyes of normally the most joyful emerald, Trowa was in a dense fog, still trying to assimilate the torrent of information, and he still wasn't sure who he could trust. "No more secrets," he said.

Duo nodded solemnly and watched the three of them file out, leaving Sally and Wufei in the suddenly less crowded bedroom. Sally was both impressed and unimpressed by the upstart, smart-mouthed boy herbalist, and showed it by keeping her back to him and continuing her work. Duo retreated to the sofa, leaving Wufei more or less alone with her mighty ego, and again, not knowing why, Wufei felt compelled to be gracious about it and rebuild the feeble bridge between them. "Penglai, hm? That's in Shandong province, correct?"

"Mm-hm," Sally hummed.

Almost imperceptibly, Wufei slouched. "I've always wanted to see the northern country...is it beautiful?"

"Very."

A tiny moan captured their attention, and soon after, Heero magically turned his head to face her, his eyes no more than thin slits ringed in darkness. "...knew you...weren't British..." he whispered between breaths. Faster than cheetahs, Duo was crouched at the opposite side of the bed, grinning.

Sally gave her patient a good-natured smirk. "I shouldn't have expected to fool you for one minute." Heero tried to smile, then winced and clutched a hand to his waist. "Is the pain back?" He nodded. "I'll get you some more of that Lion's Tail, it helped last time."

She went back to the sitting room, and Duo helped Heero prop himself up against a stack of pillows. Duo saw that Wufei was looking for a tactful escape to fetch the herbs Sally needed, glanced briefly at Heero, and begged his attention. "Can you take a message to Lord Jeffrhyss on your way back, without telling him where we are?"

Wufei thought about it. "I can concoct a plausible story to explain it, I'm sure.

Duo looked expectantly at Heero. _This is your chance. Tell him you quit. Tell him you're never going near Jeffrhyss again. Tell him this whole scheme of his was a stupid idea from the start, and you'll see him in hell! Tell him!_

Heero took a deep breath, corralling his remaining strength. "Tell him I'm on strike."

Duo gawked.

"On what?" Wufei said, befuddled.

"On str--.....it's a concept," Heero said with a shrug. "It means I'm not going back to work until the conditions of my employment are drastically improved."

"Heero, back up!" Duo exclaimed. "What happened to all that stuff we talked about? Like how this was your one chance to get rid of Jeffrhyss for good, so we could get on with our lives!? We spent _hours_ on this! Why are you caving in now!?"

Heero tugged Duo a little closer and leaned back on the boy's shoulder. "He's already going to be furious with me for disappearing. I...just don't think I should exacerbate a situation that's already out of control. He'd only take it out on you, and you have no idea how cruel he can be." Duo's puppy dog eyes had no effect on Heero as he looked back at Wufei and gave him his decision. "Tell him what I said. Those are my final words."

Wufei conceded to Heero's wishes and promised to relay the message as it was given to him. On his way out, he also told Sally he'd try to obtain a sample of the narcotic blend from Jeffrhyss' compound, although he had no idea where it was or what it looked like. Once he was gone, Duo sighed miserably and leaned his head against Heero's. "I thought we agreed. You were going to _quit._ And don't give me that song and dance about protecting me from his almighty wrath anymore. I _also_ thought you knew that I can take care of myself now."

Heero fell silent again, as he drifted back into a dazed semi-consciousness, still sitting up and leaning back against Duo. He always looked so irritatingly innocent just when Duo wanted to throttle him. _Dammit, why'd you have to do that? You may never get another shot at escaping this rotten excuse for a life! You should've jumped on it!_

By the time Sally returned with the dried Lion's Tail leaves, Heero was asleep again. Duo laid him back down and tucked him in, then went and sulked deeply into the sofa to prolong his snit as long as possible. Sally went back to her work in the sitting room, and with nothing else to do for the rest of the afternoon, Duo was desperately craving a nap, especially to prepare himself for the long night ahead. No matter how he positioned himself on the sofa, however, he couldn't sleep with the midday sun beating down on him from under the bottom hem of the curtains. He found himself very hungry for the obvious alternative.

Being careful not to disturb Heero, he curled up next to him on the bed, on top of the covers, carefully snatching a pillow for himself. He laid comfortably on his right side, so he could watch Heero until he fell asleep. What really cast a dark cloud over him now, more than his friend being weak and sick all the time, was the worrisome thought that he had just thrown away his only hope of a normal life. In his last wakeful moments, Duo prayed for a second chance.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Forty-One: Strange as it may seem, Lord Jeffrhyss isn't the least bit worried about Heero's rebellious attitude, and there must be a reason why. Likewise, Treize isn't bothered about getting his hands on the Peacecraft gold just yet. Both of them are waiting for something, and only they know what that something is, for now. Heero's recovery continues, but takes a disturbing turn that has everyone questioning his loyalties, and Noin adds her own strategy to the cause._

**Another disclaimer:** It may turn out that I don't know jack about Chinese herbal remedies, so please DON'T try to treat your own fever, headache, stomachache, thinning hair, pidgeon toes, or any other ailment with the herbs I mentioned unless you get the thumbs-up from your doctor. Having said that, there's a lot to think about in this episode! =^_^= And you'll have a few days to think about it...*looks at calendar*...for we shall resume on March 25th.

NOW THEN...just to make sure you're paying attention, it's Quiz Time. =^_~= That mysterious language Heero was speaking? It ain't Japanese. Identify the language correctly, and you get a gold star. If you get that far, you may find a way to translate the words he was mumbling in his sleep. (The truth IS out there.) Give me the general gist of what he was saying, and you get **two** gold stars. And just for a bonus, remember the words painted on the door to Giorgenson's office? Correctly identify what those words mean, plus Heero's native tongue, plus a rough translation of his words, and you get **THREE** gold stars. Make me proud, people. If you think you know the answers, send them to me at koujonemitsugi@hotmail.com, or use the feedback form on my website. Get those stars! =^_~=


	41. Diabolic Absolution

**Disclaimer:** In a town called Perfect where there's a Walgreen's on every street corner, every author and authoress has their own set of Gundam pilots to love and to squeeze and to show off to all their friends. But we don't live anywhere near Perfect. *realizes she just ripped off a commercial to explain that she's not ripping off a tv show* Dangit.

**Warnings:** Violence. And I don't mean kick in the shins violence, I mean raving lunatic violence. And Zero-ness.

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Forty-One: Diabolic Absolution

_"I will stare into the sun until its light doesn't blind me,  
I will walk onto the fire until its heat doesn't burn me,  
and I will feed the fire." ~Sarah McLachlan, Pierre Marchand, "Into The Fire"_

March 25th, 1902

Heero stood in front of the bedroom window and with a slow hand, reached up and pushed the natty blue curtain aside just a quarter of an inch to peer out at the hedgerow right beside the cluster of cottages. About fifty yards away, standing under a tree, was a nondescript man in nondescript clothes. There were more men just like him watching the cottage on all sides. They were just about the lowest rung on the ladder in terms of the agent hierarchy--the grunts. Grunts wore drab rags and had pale skin and dim, lifeless eyes. Size, shape, gender or mental ability were immaterial; grunts did what they were told.

Just as Heero made eye contact with the grunt, he could hear Duo two rooms away, yelling out the front door at another grunt. "Whaddaya think you're lookin' at, huh!? Why doncha make an etching, it'll last longer! Hey! _Hey!_ I'm _talking_ to you!" Duo slammed the door and stomped into the kitchen, where Wufei was trying to quietly enjoy a cup of green tea. "They're still out there. Can't they take a hint? I mean, what are they waiting for? If they were supposed to come get Heero, why don't they bust in and _take_ him already?"

Wufei sipped his tea. "Would you stop asking that?"

"I can't help it! They're making me edgy!" Duo flopped into a chair at the table opposite Wufei, who, in the absence of anywhere else to stay, was availing himself of another room in the cottage. Duo didn't mind having him there, since he seemed to have had a permanent change of heart, but every time he asked him why he couldn't just return to Jeffrhyss, Wufei avoided answering, and looked rather edgy himself. Whatever the reason, Duo hoped there wouldn't be many more extra bodies staying at the cottage; between himself, Heero, Sally, and now Wufei, they were rapidly running out of rooms. "I thought you said Jeffrhyss wanted him back, no matter what condition he was in."

Wufei shrugged. "It appears I was in error."

"No kidding," Duo scoffed. He leaned back in the creaky wooden chair and folded his arms. "Come to think of it, you haven't been right once about what Jeffrhyss is gonna do next. Aren't you supposed to be his right hand man or something? Or are you just _guessing_ at our expense?"

"I think you're letting your imagination run wild. Don't expect me to read the man's mind."

Duo studied the way Wufei avoided his eyes and sipped his tea with the teacup raised in front of his face, as if he was trying to hide. "You know what I think? I think you're _afraid_," Duo declared. Wufei's grip on the teacup tightened, but otherwise, he didn't move. "I think that you don't know Jeffrhyss as well as you thought you did. I think you're staying here because you've just seen what he's really capable of, and you don't wanna go back and end up like Heero. You thought, at _most_, that working for that lunatic only meant getting smacked around once in awhile, but that's not good enough for him...oh no, he's gotta mess with your _mind_, too. You didn't know that until now, when you're just starting to see that you're in it up to your neck. That's what I think."

Wufei finally met Duo's eyes with a defiant glare. "Alright, I admit, my information about his methods of control was incomplete. I was...disappointed, nothing more."

Duo stared, then laughed bitterly. "Nononono, _disappointed_ is finding out you're not a 29-and-a-half inch waist anymore. _You_ are _afraid_."

"...shut up, Maxwell."

Triumphantly, the chef smirked. "Don't worry about it. Right now I'm more worried about Heero," he said, leaning forward and lowering his voice, though not enough to escape the subject's ears, as he was right behind the bedroom door, listening. "It sounds absolutely nuts, but I think he's having second thoughts about quitting. He keeps talking about 'divided loyalties' and 'irreparable mistakes'...and last night I think I caught him trying to sneak out."

Wufei heard the drop in Duo's voice and was instantly dragged into the seriousness of the allegation. "Are you sure?" he whispered.

"I woke up in the middle of the night and he wasn't there," Duo explained, too quick to notice the other boy's lack of obvious disgust that they were sleeping in the same bed, however innocently. "Snuck into the kitchen and found him opening the front door. I asked him what he was doing and he'd acted like I'd caught him with his hand in the gold-plated cookie jar. Tried to palm me off saying he was just checking to see if those guys were still outside watching the cottage, but I know better. He was trying to leave."

They whispered back and forth about why Heero would try to run away after everything he'd been through, and after all the sacrifices the people around him had made to get him that far. On the other side of the bedroom door, Heero listened to them, cold and machinelike. Even he was barely aware of the battle being waged in his own mind, the see-saw tipping between two powerful forces, two very critical people who were each vying for control of his psyche. The winner was not yet decided.

The furtive exchange taking place at the kitchen table was interrupted by a knock at the door. Hesitant to see which of the vacant-eyed thugs had come to forcibly retrieve Heero at last, Duo slowly rose to answer it. Mercifully, it was only Professor Giorgenson. "Are we all awake and decent this morning?" he asked, poking his giant bespectacled mushroom head only halfway through the door.

Wufei glared mistrustfully at the man, but Duo greeted him warmly. "C'mon in, I'll get you a coffee."

"No no, haven't got time for that now, just ask the delectable Doctor Sally to join us. I've got a guest I'd like to introduce to you all."

Sally heard her name through her own bedroom door and made a timely appearance, dressed again in the blue-gray trousers and neatly twisting her hair out of the way. Duo leaned close to Giorgenson and whispered, "What about Heero? He's still in his room, and he's been acting kinda--"

"I know, son, I know," the Professor said quickly, patting the boy on the shoulder. "Leave him where he is." Duo instantly wondered not only what the man knew about Heero's odd behaviour, but also _how_ he knew; there simply wasn't time to ask, though, as the Professor lined the three of them up in preparation for a short speech. "I'd like you all to be understanding and non-judgemental with this person, because frankly, the first words out of her mouth, you're not going to enjoy hearing."

Sally, Duo, and Wufei, still in his chair, glanced question marks at each other as Giorgenson went back to the door, opened it, and beckoned to someone standing outside. Having spent the last week or more looking at a drably-garbed thug keeping watch every time they looked out a window, they were all wondering if the Professor had dragged one of them in by the ear to negotiate. They were more than a little surprised to see an elegant brunette in a gray cotton dress instead. She brushed a stray lock of hair out of her eyes and stepped forward.

"My name is Lucille. I've been sent by Lord Jeffrhyss to find Heero and bring him back."

Duo hated her instantly. "No...way. Just turn the hell around, and keep on walkin'."

"Watch your mouth, mister," the Professor scolded. "She didn't choose to be involved, any more than Heero did."

"That...may be true," Lucille said, slowly rubbing her hands together, "but I don't like the thought of hiding behind the excuse that I'm only following orders. Believe me, if I knew a way to get us out of this...this _rat's maze_, and I've been racking my brain trying to dream up an escape route ever since Jeffrhyss caught me, I would, but I _can't_." She gratefully saw that the braided boy's glare was softening; he must have been a dear friend of Heero's to be so wary of her, she reasoned. "I hate the thought of Heero going back to that man as much as you do...but if we don't follow our instructions, worse things may happen."

"Worse things already _have_ happened," Duo said, softly but tersely. "I doubt there's anything left that's worse than what we've alr--" Duo paused when he saw Lucille's gaze widen and focus on something over his shoulder. On that cue, they all turned around and saw Heero, standing in front of his bedroom door in a perfectly straight posture that would have made any soldier positively green with envy.

His physical symptoms, for the most part, had faded to the point where he could get dressed, walk around, and putter at some task or other until Sally was satisfied that the withdrawal period was completed. Today he looked almost normal, in his duty trousers and waistcoat, every shirt button buttoned and not a crease to be found anywhere on his uniform, but Duo knew that he wasn't normal. His eyes gave it away most of all.

"I think if Lucille has come all this way, it would be a shame for her to go back empty-handed," Heero said. His voice was unusually light and ghostly, and his eyes seemed very dim. Based on these two observations, nobody was willing to let him walk out the door that easily.

Sally went over to him and put on her motherly smile, which was surprisingly well-used despite her longstanding reluctance to have children. "Heero, we discussed this. You were _very_ much in agreement that going back would be the worst possible thing you could do."

"Or perhaps a decision made in haste is the worst possible thing I could do," Heero countered, not quite turning to meet her eyes.

"That does it." Duo shoved a chair out of the way and charged, speeding straight for the bedroom door and virtually plowing Heero right through it. Heero stumbled backwards in shock, and the door was slammed shut, effectively barricading the pair of them inside. Two seconds later, the others heard the muffled sound of Duo angrily giving Heero what-for, and to alleviate the awkwardness, they went around their little circle with brief introductions. Wufei was the most aloof to the newcomer, naturally suspicious of an 'agent' he didn't know.

Giorgenson made a casual glance out the window at one of the vacant-eyed grunts. "Add some Margarita mix and we'd have ourselves a party, I'd say."

"They've been watching us for days," Sally said. "There's always at least six of them, and they stand there in six-hour shifts, day and night. They won't talk to us, or acknowledge us in any way. It's like they're waiting for something..."

Giorgenson nodded. "They're escorts. Ideally, in their minds, or what's left of their minds, Heero and Lucille are supposed to walk out that door anytime now, and their job is to make sure Heero is well under control on the way back to the base, given his unstable condition."

Lucille squinted in thought at the way Giorgenson and Dr. Poole seemed to know all about Heero's 'condition', a thing that she herself hadn't been formally advised of. "Does this have something to do with what I saw the day I asked you for help?" she asked the Professor, referring to the day she practically had to carry Heero to Jeffrhyss' cottage before he collapsed altogether. 

Giorgenson tilted his head toward Sally and ambled over to the kitchen counter in search of a snack. "Ask the professional."

Lucille looked at Sally, and Sally stuck her hands in her pockets and shifted into lecturer mode. "Heero was being coerced into taking some kind of narcotic, a blend of inhalants most likely based around opium. He's just gone through a gruelling part of the withdrawal process, and _now_...he's talking about going back, and we can't figure out why. I don't mean to sound judgemental, but I would've thought he'd learned his lesson."

"...inhalants..." The wheels turned quickly in Lucille's head, and soon a brilliant golden light bulb flipped itself on. "Nobody knows this...but I've seen what goes on in his Lordship's compound. I've seen him force Heero inhale something, but until you said 'narcotic', it didn't make sense."

Sally took a giant step forward, eyes intense. "You've seen the _actual_ substance he was being given?"

"He takes it out of these small cloth bags, like flour sacks," Lucille said, nodding energetically. "Then he grinds it up in a bowl and lights it on fire. It doesn't burn with a steady flame, but it smoulders, and he makes Heero breathe in the smoke."

"This is very important," Sally said, gesturing sharply with both hands for emphasis. "Can you _get_ a sample of this mixture _out_ of the base and bring it _here_?"

While Lucille's face was falling, Wufei stormed in from the far corner of the living room, where he'd been hiding stoically among the woodpile and the knitting basket, and scowled as if personally slighted by the notion. "If I couldn't get you that sample, why do you assume this woman, who we know nothing about, could do any better!?"

"I only know slightly less about her than I do about _you_," Sally pointed out with her arms folded, "and she knows what the stuff looks like. You didn't."

"Knowing what it is and where it's kept won't help her sneak past the guards with it," Wufei snapped, angrily trying to salvage his dignity. Procuring a few Chinese herbs to aid Heero's recovery had been easy, but not being able to spirit away anything from Lord Jeffrhyss' lab after delivering Heero's message was still sticking in his craw. He retreated a few steps to sulk again.

Lucille lowered her head an inch, already feeling defeat nipping at her. "He's right...I don't know hardly anything about the rules of this game...I'm just a civilian. If his Lordship caught me stealing, I don't want to think about what he'd do."

"It's a gamble," Sally sighed, "but it could _really_ help me figure out what's wrong with Heero. His behaviour is still far from normal, and this mixture of inhalants could be the cause."

"You're not making good medical sense anymore, _Doctor_," Wufei grumbled from the corner. "Every physical indicator says that the drugs have cleared his system. They can't possibly still be affecting him after the fact!"

"I'd like to make that determination myself, thank you," Sally sniffed. She turned back to Lucille and smiled sympathetically. "I can't force you to do anything to help us, and I know it's a sizable gamble, but the payoff could be enormous if we win."

Over by the kitchen counter and halfway through a hot cross bun with marmalade, Giorgenson made an amused little 'hmph' noise. "Where've I heard _that_ before..." They all looked at him questioningly, and he shrugged. "Nothing, my dear, you just sounded like Jeffrhyss himself just then, talking about potential payoffs. That man loved nothing better than a good gamble in his younger days, and even now, I'd be hard-pressed to say with certainty that he loves anything else at all."

A second light bulb flipped on over Lucille's head, and it outshone the first one by ten thousand watts. She stared straight ahead. "Did you say...Lord Jeffrhyss _gambles_?"

"Oh sure," the Professor bragged on his associate's behalf. "Horses, greyhounds, rugby, cards, dice, weather, you name it. If it has an outcome of two or more possibilities, he'll bet on it, no question. I'd call it a vice, except he's so damn good at it, he never loses."

Very slowly and with great depth of concentration, Lucille smiled. "I can get you your drug sample, Doctor Poole. Probably by tonight." The others looked surprised, but she didn't give anyone time to object. "Keep Heero in the house. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Lucille flew out the front door and vanished. None of the vacant-eyed grunts followed her, Giorgenson noted, because she didn't have Heero with her. He thought briefly about following her to make sure she was alright, especially if she had some scatterbrained scheme up her sleeve. Scatterbrained schemes, however, were the very best kind, and the newly-found determination in the woman's voice further served to convince him that she was finally ready to deal with Jeffrhyss on her own.

**********  
  


In retrospect, Duo wished he hadn't slammed the door so hard, but he couldn't help it. Many months' worth of frustration was finally getting to him, and he could no longer hide his anger under a cheery smile. He wheeled around and stomped to the centre of the bedroom as Heero nonchalantly went to the window and stared outside.

"Alright, a joke's a joke, but this talk about going back, it just isn't funny anymore. What's gotten into you lately!? Maybe I'm imagining things, but it sure sounds like you can't wait to get away from this place!"

Heero continued to stare out the window. "I just think it might be a mistake for me to stay here, that's all. It contradicts my orders."

"I'm starting to _really_ worry about you," Duo said, shaking his head. "I fought so hard to give you a little taste of freedom here and there, and you act like it's nothing! You were supposed to trust me by now, but all you can talk about is going back to that psychopath 'master' of yours! Doesn't our friendship mean anything anymore? Don't _I_ mean anything to you!?"

Heero said nothing. He stared almost hypnotically out the window at one of the grunts keeping watch, and didn't move an inch.

The only thing keeping Duo from feeling hurt and rejected was the iron-clad belief that there was currently something very wrong with Heero, something that was affecting his behaviour and higher reasoning functions. While Duo was pondering what it could possibly be, a darkish blob squeaked out from under the bed, drawing his attention downward. It was Shadow, of whom Duo had seen very little lately. It appeared as though she had been hiding under Heero's bed, and poked her head out during a lull in the unidirectional conversation to see if the coast was clear. When she spotted Heero by the window, she started taking a few tiny steps towards him, then stopped and dashed back under the bed. She seemed...afraid.

Duo thought about the little cat's actions, but they didn't make sense. Something about Heero was making her terribly nervous, and yet she didn't want to leave his presence completely, else she would have been scratching at the kitchen door all day to get out. Not only did it seem remarkably similar to the way Duo felt at that moment, but it further cemented his theory that the boy wasn't right. Animals were very psychic, in Duo's opinion, and if Shadow thought something was wrong, then something probably was. He decided to humour him for the moment.

"What if we asked Jeffrhyss to come here instead? Then you could stay here _and_ fulfill your orders. How would that be?"

Heero clenched both fists and looked menacingly over his left shoulder, his glare approaching maximum power. "You're trying to trick me into staying. You want to keep me here against my will."

Duo shrank away from the glare. "Hey, if it's a bad idea, just say so, don't get all bent out of shape," he said in his most appeasing voice.

"When I finally lose patience with you, it would be wise to stay out of my way," Heero growled. Without another word, he turned back to the window.

Now it really did hurt. Duo wrapped his arms around himself and looked at the floor. Even if there were mysterious forces at work, knowing didn't make the moments any less painful. "If...you are really, _honestly_...having doubts about...about us...you _can_ talk to me about it. I won't hate you for it, I swear. Nothing you could do could ever make me hate you." A long two and a half minutes of silence ensued. "So, what, you won't talk to me at _all_ now?" Again, silence. Duo sighed and left the room, shutting the door softly so Heero could be alone with his window.

When he got back to the kitchen, he saw that the new girl, Lucille, had left. He regretted being mean to her, because she was only doing her job, and now that she was gone, he regretted not apologizing to her, but at that particular moment, there were worse things. Sally looked up at him from her slouching position at the kitchen table, and Duo shrugged. "I don't know what to do anymore."

"If you want my second-rate dishwater excuse for an expert opinion," Giorgenson said, leaning halfway out the kitchen window with his lit pipe, "what you should do is nothing at all. My guess is there's a mental battle going on in that room. If you go and try turning it into something else, you'll get nothing but trouble _for_ your trouble, mark my words."

Duo looked at the Professor, then at Wufei, who offered no input, then at Sally again. Even if there was some kind of tug-of-war match going on in Heero's head, after the way he'd been acting, Duo was no longer sure that Heero would pick him instead of Jeffrhyss. He tossed a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the bedroom. "Anyone know if there's a key to lock that door with?"

**********  
  


Deep underground, in the well-concealed belly of the Isle of Wight, Lord Jeffrhyss awaited the return of his pretty puppet and his wayward agent. Inwardly, he laughed and scoffed at the hundreds of naive vacationers who visited the island each year, royalty and commoners alike, without having the faintest clue at what lay underneath, but that could only amuse him for so long. Soon, he grew impatient, and it was to the benefit of all parties concerned that he heard two distant sets of doors opening and closing, heralding someone's arrival.

The lab door opened next, and two grunts showed Noin in. To his Lordship's surprise and irritation, she was alone. "Where is Heero?" he demanded gruffly.

Noin took a few steps into the cluttered lab, recognizing too well the scarcely controlled chaos in which the man always worked. She clasped both hands in front of her and lowered her head respectfully. "I was unable to retrieve him." A white lie at worst, an embellishment at best. Noin could live with that.

Jeffrhyss, however, could not. He snatched his cane and waded through a sea of boxes punctured with icebergs of books on his two peg legs to stand in front of her. "You _failed_?"

"It was a mistake. An erroneous calculation."

Jeffrhyss grumbled and plodded away.

"A bad gamble," Noin added with emphasis.

The old man stopped, then turned. That last remark was not amusing. "I _beg_ your pardon?"

Noin looked up, directly into his round black spectacles. "It was never certain that Heero would consent to come with me, therefore it was a bad risk sending me there at all."

"Not certain!? Of course it was certain! He could not have resisted the pull of this place!"

"It's alright to admit you were wrong," Noin said in a sickly sweet, condescending tone. "Not everybody can accurately predict human reaction. You'd have an easier time predicting how much rain will fall, and on what days, and on which side of the mountain...although you'd have a hard time beating me at _that_ game." She turned and strolled to her left, admiring some of the architectural drawings on the walls. "Or maybe I'm just a better gambler than you are."

Behind her, his Lordship seethed. "How _dare_ you presume to be better at _anything_ than me! You'd still be running from town to town, smuggling yourself across every border in secret, and filling up your days with menial tasks while you waited to be captured if not for me! I gave you purpose!"

"Well, you pretty much wasted what purpose I had today," Noin said. "If I was in charge here, I wouldn't have bothered chasing after something unless I was at least fairly sure I could get it, and while we're on the subject, I don't think of being your secretary as a particularly gratifying purpose. I could do a lot better if not for my circumstances."

"You are _not_ in charge, and you never will be!" Jeffrhyss boomed, clomping angrily toward her. "Mine is the superior mind! In your most fanciful daydreams, you could never hope to best me at the basic tasks on which the success of this organization rests!"

Noin turned around and smiled. "That almost sounds like a challenge."

Jeffrhyss harrumphed in contempt. "As if I'd waste my time."

"Well, I can't fault you for that. I can see how losing to a subordinate female would be very humiliating."

The proverbial last straw had been arrived at. Jeffrhyss became livid, an unusual occurrence indeed for such a stable and reputedly superior mind, and he stomped around the lab railing on and knocking things over, but unlike previous tantrums that were much less severe, Noin didn't bat an eyelid. She stood very calmly to one side, looking over a blueprint for a theoretical flying machine, almost ignoring him. Finally, the proud old soldier halted his rampage and demanded her attention by ramming the floor heavily with his cane.

"Choose your game! Choose now and we'll see which of us has the right to be called 'master'!"

Noin made a great play of searching the room for something to bet on, thought she had made her choice long before she set foot back in the compound. She sauntered over to the current centerpiece of the lab, his Lordship's gleaming chessboard with the finely-crafted pieces, carved from rich, exotic woods. "Would you consider a wager on a game of chess?"

Jeffrhyss snarled and smirked at the same time. He hobbled over to his chair, sat down, and began resetting the board, pulling the pieces back from their spots on the battlefield and placing them in their traditional starting positions. "What shall we wager?" he asked, considerably calmer and more confident than ever.

Noin perched opposite him in a red plush chair, leaned back and crossed her legs, propping an elbow up on the chair back and looked quite confident herself. "If I win...I want my freedom."

Jeffrhyss thought, then grunted in agreement; he didn't waste any energy at all wondering how he could replace his pretty puppet on such short notice, because it simply wasn't going to happen.

"_And_...I want two bags of the herbal blends you give that boy twice a week. One of the new mixture and one of the old."

"What would _you_ do with _that_?" Jeffrhyss scoffed. "You have no idea what it does or how to use it!"

"Oh, I have a pretty good idea," Noin sang dreamily. "I know it keeps him coming back, and if it works on all young men, I could easily walk out of here and have an infinite supply of lovers who would keep me in the manner to which I'm accustomed, and who would never be able to leave me."

Fulfilling his Lordship's stereotype of the wicked rich woman, disenfranchised from her decadent lifestyle and just waiting for the ideal male target to leech off of, was easy. Not only did he believe her, but he was laughing on the inside, because both mixtures were tailored to Heero's physiology and likely wouldn't work as well on anyone else except a close blood relative, of which he had none. Blinded by the pain of damaged pride and loss of face, Jeffrhyss wasn't thinking clearly about the wager; if he had been, he might not have agreed so easily. "And if I win?"

Noin looked away furtively; this would be her biggest gamble ever, and it had to be right, first time. "You know all about my little _situation_...you know about my family, all those wealthy Greeks, high class, high expectations, won't take 'no' for an answer...you know that they expect me to marry a man I don't love, and forsake the man I do, just to increase our influence in the world, and you know that I've put every earthly comfort at risk by refusing them..." She leaned forward over the chessboard and drew a slow, deep breath. "Were you aware of exactly _who_ I'm supposed to marry? He's a Rockefeller, you know. _Very_ well off. Put our two families together, joined at the legal hip 'till death do us part, and it all amounts to quite a tidy sum." Next, she began examining her fingernails daintily. "If you win, I'll go through with the wedding. I'll transmute myself into a Rockefeller, and I'll get you that money...not to suggest that you're having a cash flow problem, but a few extra millions wouldn't go amiss, now would it?"

Jeffrhyss leaned back and stroked his beard, leaving the hook on his cane. "Can you prove to me that he's a Rockefeller?"

"Not without putting him on the boat and bringing him straight over here from America...but if you doubt what I'm saying, just concentrate on my family by itself. I'm sure you had our assets calculated down to the last drachma fifteen minutes after we met, so judge for yourself. Wouldn't our small fortune be a sufficient boost for you even if I didn't get married?"

"Hrmm...I suppose so..."

"And if the unthinkable happens and I can't embezzle enough to keep your coffers filled for even a day, I'd offer myself as insurance, and I'd remain in your service for as long as you wished. Either way, you win, because at the very least, you'll have shown me up badly and put me in my place." Noin propped both elbows on the table, laced her fingers together and set her chin down on her hands, arching an eyebrow. "So how about it?"

He had to admit, all that for one game of chess was a pretty good deal. The simple bonus of proving to the insolent female that he would always be in control, and was wholly _deserving_ of that control, was quite the sweetener. He nodded. "Acceptable." He put his good hand down on the centre of the chessboard and twirled it slowly until Noin had the light-coloured pieces in front of her. "Ladies first."

A quick surge of adrenalin flooded her veins as she realized her captor had taken the bait; she straightened up in her chair and delicately picked up a pawn, preparing to start the game. "I should warn you, before you make your first move," Jeffrhyss said, resting both his hand and his hook on the cane," that no one has ever beaten me."

Noin paused just a moment, then set the pawn down two spaces ahead. "Understood." _I certainly know how you feel,_ she thought as she planned her next seven moves, with a minimum of four defensive permutations each. _No one has ever beaten me either. Not even Milliardo._

**********  
  


Relena knew that if someone saw her and saw where she was going unescorted, there would be questions, but not one of the myriad of excuses bobbing around in her skull seemed totally believable, even to her.

_I could say I'm out picking berries...if there were any berries to pick. Or I could say I'm on my way to the village for a loaf of bread...that's plausible, considering Elsie's bread is the consistency of leather. Maybe I could say I'm surveying the property looking for places to have a quaint, romantic picnic for two...that is...if I had anyone to eat with, which I don't. I hate this._

After all the neglect, all the empty days and nights waiting for Heero to return and lying to the everyone when she said she didn't care, she was finally going to sneak out to see him. She knew he was hiding in a cottage somewhere on the grounds under a pretense of illness, but pride prevented her from asking the trio of servants who knew which cottage it was to show her the way. She would accomplish this task on her own or become hopelessly lost trying.

Apart from that minor detail, she had her escape all planned out. She would slip out at dinnertime, while everyone was busy either serving it or eating it, which would still leave her some time left to get back before dark. Her clothes for the journey would be some old, ratty floral prints in greens and browns that she had found in the attic, complete with a crocheted shawl, so that anyone spying her walking around would assume she was one of the labourers. Once outside, she would ask a few locals if there was anyone new hanging around that fit Heero's description, and would avoid Otto at all costs, since she didn't have a convincing excuse to explain any of her recent behaviour.

The last thing she needed was an excuse to actually _see_ Heero. She was prepared to give him just one more chance to repent and recommit himself to her, but of course, she couldn't walk in just _looking_ like she was desperate to talk to him, which she was. She had to make it look like she was just passing by on some unrelated errand, lest the boy's ego become overinflated like a fat man's bicycle tire. That would never do.

Just when the halls were empty, she went to the lounge and unlocked the world globe with the decanter of brandy inside. The letters she had been storing there, all with Heero's name on them, were safe and accounted for; she scooped them out and closed the globe up again, then went back to her room. There, she combined the first stack of letters with the second stack, socked away in her dresser drawer for the last two weeks. Duo's mysterious letter from Ireland was somewhere in the middle of the stack.

_I'll just happen to be strolling around looking for him so I can give him his wretched letters. He won't know I wanted to see him unless I want him to know. And if anyone sees me and asks what I'm doing...well...I'm sure I'll think of something._

Satisfied that her plan was the finest, most excruciatingly brilliant bit of strategy she'd ever given birth to, she stretched out on her bed and nibbled on some social tea biscuits, awaiting the dinner hour, when she would spring into action.

**********  
  


The battle was waged for hours, many brutal, tiresome hours that left Lord Jeffrhyss surprised and strangely impressed. The fair Lucrezia knew dozens of standard strategies and defences, as well as several very innovative moves for which he had to formulate some very quick defences to avoid losing key pieces. As yet, there appeared to be no clear winner.

Noin was equally impressed by the man's overall battle plan, and the importance he placed on the seemingly lowliest of pieces. Even after several hours, more than half of his pawns had not yet moved, as if he was guarding them especially carefully, and Noin found that most puzzling. Also, she had noticed early on in the match that each piece had something written on the bottom. The discovery was very furtively made when she accidentally knocked over one of his Lordship's bishops. She saw a light patch with a dark squiggle on the underside, but couldn't read it. The very next dark mahogany piece of his she took, she palmed under the table, and saw a bleached circle on the bottom on which was written someone's name. She didn't recognize it.

When Noin trapped Jeffrhyss into relinquishing one of his closely-guarded pawns, she leapt on it, and smuggled it under the table the moment he wasn't looking. The pawn she had taken bore the name 'Chang Wufei' and while she wasn't absolutely certain, she was fairly sure that was the rather rude Chinese boy she'd been introduced to earlier. Later on, she captured another pawn and flipped it over almost immediately. This one had 'Heero Yuy' written on it. Hoping the third time would be magically uncharmed, she took a peek at one of her own light-coloured pawns and saw 'Duo Maxwell' written in pencil. She didn't catch the braided boy's last name when she met him earlier, but how many Duos could there be in a small area? The game was becoming filled with too many glaring coincidences to be considered random at all, and she trembled at the thought of turning over either queen for fear of finding her own name underneath.

"My dear Lucrezia," Jeffrhyss cooed spitefully, "we could wrap this up in time for dinner if you are ready to concede."

Noin looked intensely at him, still fired up for another hour at least, if necessary. "The game doesn't look over to me."

"I feel that it's only sporting to warn you that, by virtue of your overworked knight, you'll be in check in thirteen moves."

Noin glanced over the board, calculated what needed to be calculated, and nodded. What Jeffrhyss said was quite true. "And I feel it's only sporting to warn _you_ that you'll be in _check and mate_ in _nine_ moves."

Jeffrhyss balked. "_What!?_"

"The Avandia Gambit. Bishop to king's knight three, knight to king's bishop four, rook to king's knight one, bishop takes knight, rook takes bish--"

"No! Once the knight is threatened, queen to king's bishop three, then--"

"Then you'll hasten your demise," Noin said softly. "Your leading pawn will have to advance to protect the queen from my rook. My last pawn, which could have taken your pawn earlier, will capture it _en passant_, leaving a gaping hole in your defences. Two moves beyond that, your queen will be lost." To illustrate, Noin turned the board forty-five degrees. "See it now?"

Jeffrhyss stared at the playing field from the new angle until his hair hurt and his eyes itched. Then he saw it, a chance of defeat so miniscule that he never even considered it. Lucrezia Noin had beaten him, fair and square. He clenched his only fist and jerked his head away from her and her loyal troops of fair rubber tree wood, boiling over with unleashed fury.

Noin stood up gracefully and looked dispassionately down at the pitiful man. "You _did_ agree to my prize," she reminded him.

The old dictator shuddered with rage and lashed out at the chessboard, scattering the remaining pieces over the already cluttered floor. "Take it and go!!" He curled over his cane with his hand pressed to his forehead, not wanting to see the vile, deceptive female ever again; still, a bet was a bet.

Noin walked over to the cupboard where she knew Heero's herbal treatments were kept, and opened it. Inside were two shelves full of small canvas bags, each group bearing a different set of numbers and symbols. She took one bag off of each shelf, untied them to ensure that they at least looked like different mixtures, then tied them back up and took them to her cell. Once there, she took her suitcase out from under her rock-hard Spartan bunk and loaded it up with all her belongings, everything she had taken with her when she fled Greece, and fled her family's wishes. Lastly, she packed the two small canvas bags on top and buckled the bag shut, taking one last look at the drab room and deciding that she wouldn't miss it one bit.

When she walked back out into the lab on her way to the main concrete corridor, Lord Jeffrhyss hadn't moved. In a strange way, she pitied him, but that was as far as she was prepared to go. She strode out of the lab, preparing to boldly look the guards in the eye and dare them to challenge her official release. Suddenly, she was feeling pretty lucky.

**********  
  


Relena detested the sight of herself in the peasant's rags she was wearing, but they did their job. Using a shawl and a kerchief to cover her honey blonde locks, she passed by several lower class workers during her flight from the house, and not one of them pegged her as lady of the manor. Unfortunately, though some remembered seeing Heero as far back as the day of the hunt, she couldn't understand a word they said. All she could do was walk in whichever direction they pointed, because their dialect was incomprehensible.

While she walked, she became amazed at how beautiful the country estate was becoming. She had brought the family there in the dead of winter, and after an agonizingly long wait, the grounds were finally greening up, and wildflowers were poking fresh new shoots up out of the soil. Relena became so wrapped up in the beginnings of beauty all around her that she almost didn't notice a very substantial clue that appeared on her right--a little cluster of cottages belonging to the grounds keepers.

For the hundredth time, she asked herself if she was doing the right thing, then took the stack of letters from the pocket of her green gingham apron and kept going. She had walked so long that the sun was beginning to set, casting a fiery red glow over the countryside and reminding her of how late it was. As she neared the cottages, one began to stand out from the rest, but not for its picturesque garden or quaint thatched roof. People were shouting, doors were slamming, and curiosity drew Relena right to the front door to take just one tiny peek.

Inside, things were going very, very wrong. Through the kitchen and towards the back of the cottage, there was a plain wooden door; standing near it was a funny-looking gray-haired man with a pipe, who seemed strangely familiar. Without warning, the door flew open and three very alarmed people ran out. Wufei, of all people, ran out first, with a dark gray cat tucked under one arm and a gun in his opposite hand. Sally Poole followed him with a startled and confused look, and also an empty syringe. Lastly, Duo ran out and pulled the door shut behind him, looking terribly frazzled. Wufei put his articles down on the kitchen counter and rushed to help Duo keep the door shut while he fumbled for the key, for there was someone on the other side of the door, angrily pulling on it, trying to get out.

Duo finally locked the bedroom door and leaned back against it, panting and struggling to catch his breath. The funny gray-haired man walked up to him with long strides, snuffing out his pipe. "What happened in there?"

"I think.....he's royally.....ticked off.....at us," Duo gasped between breaths.

"We tried talking him into leaving the country for awhile and he went nuts!" Wufei said.

Sally stepped forward and showed Giorgenson the empty syringe. "This could've knocked out a racehorse! Anyone else would have been put under instantly, but he's got some kind of immunity to it! It didn't have any effect at all!"

Something very powerful slammed into the door from the other side, and Duo was pushed off it by the force of the impact. "Ohhh, no, I think it had a very definite effect," Duo said, looking nervously at the door. "It made him angrier."

A massive voice built on unfettered fury screeched through the door and made them all jump. It was a long string of angry-sounding Japanese, punctuated with the sound of fists and feet beating on the wooden slab. Eventually, the voice lapsed into English, as if anyone needed a translation by that point. "Open this door or I'll smash it to pieces! Do you hear me!? You can't keep me in here! My master won't allow it! _Let me out!!_"

Relena's eyes went wide. _Heero! What are they doing to you!?_ She wanted to rush in and put a stop to whatever it was, but it was all too frightening, and all she could manage was to open the front door and slip surreptitiously inside. Fortunately, everyone was much too busy to even notice she was there.

Duo crept forward, wringing his hands. "Now Heero, you may have taken some of the things we said the wrong way, and we just want you to know that we forgiv--"

A fresh round of pounding started, and Duo jumped back. "_Kisama!_ Open this door right now! I'll tear this place apart if I have to!"

Duo bit his lip and turned to the others with his hands in his pockets. "Um...suggestions?"

"This was the strongest tranquillizer I had," Sally said, dolefully gesturing with the syringe. "If he won't respond properly to that, I don't know what else I can do."

All their quickest thinking wasn't quick enough, for the next sound they heard was glass breaking. Duo's eyes bulged. "The window!" He ran back to the door and shoved the finicky brass key back into the lock with Wufei and Sally right behind him. Relena slipped further inside the cottage and ducked under the kitchen table just as the gray-haired man turned in her direction.

"I'll try and nab him from the outside!" he shouted as he ran past the kitchen table and out the door. Relena exhaled softly with relief.

More glass was falling to the bedroom floor and shattering. The door cooperated at last, the they all rushed inside. Sure enough, Heero was pulling jagged pieces of what was once a window pane in its happier days out of the rickety frame. Duo and Wufei raced to the window and grabbed the boy by an arm apiece, and Sally wrapped both arms around his torso as they tried to wrestle him to the floor. Relena very timidly crawled out from under the kitchen table and followed them in; nobody had noticed her presence yet.

In the purest sense of the definition, Heero wasn't Heero anymore. A foggy, inscrutable pressure that had been building up inside him for days finally blew, turning him into a wild, snarling animal with the strength of five, thrashing around in the grip of three weak and pathetic jailers. When he looked into their faces, he didn't know them, and yet something else inside him kept saying he should, especially the one with the purple eyes.

Relena circled the knot of frenzied limbs in the middle of the room and brought both hands to her face, looking and feeling like a terrified rabbit but too enthralled with the scene to look away. Without even realizing it, she drew closer and ever so slowly stretched out a willowy arm between the other arms restraining Heero, reaching out to him. The caged monster saw Relena's face amidst the blurs and shouts. He saw the blue eyes, the fair hair partly hidden by a bit of cloth, and the delicate features that had drilled their way into his consciousness since the day he saw their likeness in an ink drawing almost a year ago. A red-hot flame grew behind Heero's eyes as he stared her down.

_...I'm here because of you!!_

He lashed out and shoved the girl away with tremendous force. She careened into the wall with a little yelp, dropping the stack of letters. Wufei caught the offending arm and wrangled it back under control, but before any of them could realize what happened, and to whom, the counterfeit peasant girl skittered away, holding a hand to her mouth where she had collided with the wood panelling. Relena ran straight out of the cottage, never to return, and once she was far enough away that she could no longer hear the struggling, she took her hand away from her stinging lips--it had a light coating of blood.

Many yards away, 'Lucille' was heading triumphantly back to make her delivery, and saw a poorly-dressed girl running away from the cottage, but thought little of it. As Lucille neared the cottage and saw the state of bedlam, she forgot all about the girl and hurried inside. "Doctor Poole? she called out nervously.

Sally backed out of the bedroom, throwing quick glances over her shoulder at Lucille. "Stay back," she warned quietly. She was only able to whisper because it had suddenly gone terribly quiet.

Lucille held her suitcase up and pointed to it. "I got it," she whispered back. Sally's eyes lit up, and she ushered Lucille into her makeshift lab, barricading the door behind them so they could work in relative peace and safety.

In the bedroom, things were quiet, but more tense than ever. Heero had broken free and was sizing up his opponents. Duo stood in front of the door and Wufei guarded the window, with Giorgenson peering in while picking broken glass up off the lawn. The three youths were crouched low in fierce battle stances, eyeing each other.

Duo held his hands up in careful appeasement. "Heero...stop and think for a minute. Is this normal? Is _any_ of this how Heero Yuy really spends a Tuesday afternoon? Think about it! You don't do anything without a good reason, so what's the reason for this!?"

Heero growled and shot him a bloodthirsty glare. "Get out of my way."

Duo shook his head once. "No. You're better off with me than with Jeffrhyss, I'm sure of that. If you can look at your sorry self in the mirror, and think about what your life was like before you met me, and _still_ think you belong somewhere else, go ahead and leave." He assumed one of the fighting stances Heero had taught him and closed his fists tight. "But you're going to have to go right through me to do it."

To his surprise, Heero took him up on his challenge. He lunged at Duo and sparked off a karate match unrivalled by any of their practice sessions. Wufei was in awe, watching Duo match Heero blow for blow, blocking every punch and kick with blinding speed. Gradually, however, both boys were tiring, and Wufei felt compelled to help. Between the two of them, plus Heero's growing fatigue, they had him pinned to the floor within minutes, but he still struggled until a piercing, authoritative voice cut through the noise.

"Heero!" Sally shouted from the doorway. Heero looked up through a mesh of his own mussed-up hair and saw her, crouched before him and shaking a little ceramic bowl a few inches from his face. "See this? This is what you want, isn't it? You want it? Hm?"

Heero calmed himself and stared at the contents of the bowl, which was a pinch or two of brown and white powders, with dried leaves mixed in. When presented with the choice of two very similar bags from Lucille's suitcase, Sally arbitrarily chose the one with the numeral zero printed on it in red ink; it happened to be the newer of the two mixtures and was an extremely fortunate choice, though Sally didn't know it yet.

"What's that stuff?" Duo asked breathlessly. He was more than a little disturbed by how totally transfixed Heero was by the substance.

"This is what Jeffrhyss was using on him. It may be the only thing that'll get him under control again," she said.

"You can't give him that!" Duo exclaimed. "We just got it out of his system! We can't get him addicted again!"

"Now that I have enough of it to work with, I can wean him off it properly. It won't hurt him." Sally stood up, took a match out of a copper container on the mantlepiece, struck it against the firebrick, and lit the contents of the bowl. The mixture smouldered evenly and gave off a thick wisp of smoke almost immediately. Heero's starving eyes followed her every move as she stepped closer carrying his salvation.

At that point, Lucille looked away; she'd seen that process many times before, and didn't need to see it again. She walked to the kitchen counter and leaned against it, folding her arms and glancing at the door just in time to see Giorgenson's grand re-entrance with two large handfuls of glass shards, which he promptly deposited in the dustbin. "Don't want any bunny rabbits cutting their paws on that, do we?" he said.

Lucille arched her eyebrows in agreement, then looked to her left; Duo and Wufei were now helping Heero walk dizzily to the kitchen table with an arm around each of their shoulders. They sat him down and propped him up while Sally extinguished the small fire and set up some glassware and chemicals on the table. Heero was now perfectly calm, but dazed and unresponsive, and potentially still vulnerable. Lucille couldn't think of anything she could do to help until her eyes wandered to the counter beside her, on which she saw a smoke gray cat, licking its paws and sitting next to a handgun. _Nice ornament_, she thought, picking up the gun without hesitation. "Is this Heero's?"

Duo looked up and begged with his eyes for a decrease in complications. "Yeah, uh...be careful with that, okay?"

Lucille looked the gun over and whistled in admiration. "Whoa...a genuine double action, self-ejecting, nickel-plated Adams & Deane six shooter! This is the one with the reversible ejector mechanism so you can shoot with either hand! I didn't know they made this in a .32 calibre!"

Now they were all staring at Lucille as she tossed the gun expertly from hand to hand, aiming at a spot on the far wall using one eye and then the other. Though Heero was not participating, this prolonged stare easily qualified the cottage for a large painted sign that would read 'Official House of the Staring People,' for which there was a darling spot outside next to the birdbath.

Lucille looked outside at the grunts keeping watch, waiting for her to betray her true loyalties and deliver Heero to them, and frowned. "I think it's time we sent a message to our ex-employer," the brave brunette said. Before anyone could stop her, she aimed the gun out the kitchen window at one of the grunts and squeezed off a shot. The bullet cracked the air and splintered the bark of the tree against which her chosen grunt was leaning, just an inch above his head. The grunt shivered, then ran off to warn the others, and soon they were all scampering away to tell their master what had happened. Gratified, Lucille put the gun back down on the counter and smiled, quite proud of herself.

Giorgenson rolled his eyes behind his spectacles. "Showoff."

While Sally studied the mysterious mixture at the table, Duo folded his arms on it and put his head down, exhausted. Wufei wandered back into the living room and collapsed into a sofa, also exhausted. Sally didn't like the look of Heero's eyes at all, and decided to run some chemical tests on the strange substance before proceeding. She separated some of the mixture into components, spooned a bit of white powder into a shallow dish, and set it on the table next to Duo's resting head. "Pour some water into that dish for me, will you?"

Duo groaned, but didn't move.

A moment later, Sally took the dish back, and it had a bit of water in it, as requested. "Thanks."

Duo lifted his head an inch. "For what?"

"For putting water in the dish."

Sally continued to work, oblivious to the confused stare coming from Duo. "But I didn't."

They both looked at Heero, who was seated between them and looked idyllically docile for someone who had just tried to flatten four of his closest associates. Playing on a hunch, Sally set another dish on the table and eyed Heero suspiciously. "Pour some water in this dish too, please."

Heero smoothly picked up the pitcher of water and poured the exact same amount into the second dish as he did into the first. He put the pitcher down and dropped his hand back into his lap, all without blinking more than three times or looking at the items he was manipulating. Sally thought fast. "Heero, count backwards from ninety-nine in increments of thirteen, and stop before you reach zero."

Heero rattled off the numbers in one breath. "Eighty-six, seventy-three, sixty, forty seven, thirty-four, twenty-one, eight."

Sally waved a hand in front of Heero's face; he didn't move. "Hypnotics!" she breathed.

Duo blinked. "Say what?"

"This mixture is mostly opium, but there are a lot of other things in it that I haven't identified yet. One of those extra ingredients may be a hypnotic drug of some kind, chosen specifically to induce a trance." She sat back and thought for a minute or two, during which Duo was more than patient. "I think I'm starting to understand Lord Jeffrhyss' methods now," she said, tapping the ceramic bowl with her fingertip. "This is a dual-stage control mechanism. The first stage is the narcotics--the subject experiences excruciating physical withdrawal symptoms that compel him to always return for his next dose. If that fails, the second stage kicks in--post-hypnotic suggestion that was programmed into him at an earlier date, _commanding_ him to return even if the first stage is ineffective. Mind you, this is only a theory."

Frightened by the prospect, Duo waved his own hand in front of Heero's face, and shivered when he saw that his eyes were totally vacant and without focus. He was indeed in a trance. "Geez...that sure would explain a lot..." For an instant, the temptation to command Heero to cluck like a chicken was unbearable. _I could even tell him to kiss me and he'd do it...mmm, better not, though...too many witnesses. I'd catch hell for it later._

"Every time Jeffrhyss gives him this...whatever this is, he can reinforce the programming, alter it, add to it, whatever he likes." Sally cleared her throat and addressed Heero authoritatively again. "What is your objective?"

"Collect reconnaissance on Treize Khushrenada," Heero answered blandly.

"What are your default instructions if security is compromised?"

"Return to base."

"And if return is prevented by...by the people around you?"

Heero paused. "Lethal force is authorized."

Sally and Duo shuddered as one, but soon Duo found a bright speck in an otherwise bleak afternoon. "You know what? ...he's been fighting his programming all day. His gun was in his room for days before anyone thought to swipe it, and he never touched it to hurt any of us. Even when he was battling me just now, I could tell he was holding back...sure, he was amazingly fast, but he wasn't hitting me that hard. All this time, there's been a voice in his head telling him to bash _our_ heads in and run away, and he couldn't do it!" Duo sighed heavily; it felt good to smile again. "Heero...who's your best friend in the whole world?"

Again Heero paused, and hearing Duo's voice seemed to soften his own. "You are."

Duo smiled even wider and threw his arms around Heero, nuzzling the side of his face and thanking the magic smoke for making him tell the truth. "I'll take that as an apology. If you wake up zonked out of your mind, I'm not likely to get one any other way."

With the sudden physical contact, Heero started blinking faster, and his head lolled forward with a little moan as he brought an unsteady hand up to rub his eyes. Sensing the change in his aura, Shadow leapt from the counter to the table, sniffed around Heero a bit, then meowed and curled up comfortably in front of him, giving him her official 'all clear.' Sally made a note of what it took to break the trance, and Duo slung Heero's arm around his shoulders and dragged him to his feet. "He probably oughta lie down now," Duo guessed. "Don't worry pal...I'll take care of you." Sally enjoyed a relieved smile as they left, but soon after, Duo came back, alone, looking slightly miffed and holding what looked like a stack of letters. "What are these?"

Sally shrugged. "They aren't mine..."

"They're addressed to Heero..." Duo held them out, and Lucille stepped forward, recognizing her own handwriting with a frown.

"They're from Lord Jeffrhyss. He kept calling Heero back and got no reply, that's why he sent me...but they were sent to the _house_. I don't see how they could have found their way here."

Duo snorted in anger. "Maybe I don't know where they came from, but I know where they're going!" He walked to the nearest fireplace, lit a fire, and tossed the letters in, not bothering to look all the way through the stack to see what else was there. Soon, all the letters had been incinerated beyond recognition, including the letter he really should have looked at first, the one addressed to him. "Good riddance. And now, if you'll all pardon me, Heero's feeling a bit woozy and needs someone to tell him what day it is." With that, he went back into the bedroom and shut the door, although it needed a little encouragement ever since it was warped out of its natural shape.

While Lucille and Giorgenson talked amongst themselves about where she'd be staying since she had no home to go to, Sally wandered into the living room and sat down next to Wufei, who had been strangely quiet. He didn't acknowledge her, but didn't shoo her away either. "Are _you_ alright?" she asked.

Wufei lowered his eyes. He was far from alright. The boy had laboured for months under the faulty assumption that Lord Jeffrhyss was a harsh but just man, fighting for some noble cause, but he was too concerned with seeking vengeance from Treize to bother asking what that cause was, and never stopped to really look at what was going on under his nose. The man was a monster who cared nothing for the welfare of his toys, and if Wufei didn't get out soon, he felt sure he'd be next. Still, there was no need to reveal squeamishness and fear to anyone, least of all her. "I'm fine."

Sally knew he was lying, but let it slide. She slapped his knee in a friendly fashion and stood. "If you want to talk, you know where I am." To his relief, she left him to his sulking, and also to the first of many hours of 'what ifs' that were bound to change his outlook on life.

**********  
  


Back in her room, safe and sound, Relena estimated the extent of the damage caused by Heero's unexpected attack, and it was minimal. She had a split lip, and would have it for a few days, but everyone was so used to her hiding in her room that no one was likely to notice, especially if she wore a dark lip colour to venture outside. She had also gone without dinner, and planned on sitting at her white wicker vanity with the tiltable mirror, staring at her reflection for a long, long time.

Though it didn't yet show on the outside, Relena had grown up a lot in the last hour or so. She didn't cry, and she didn't feel sorry for herself as she might have done before, but instead she tried to look at the whole incident like an adult and decide for herself what had really happened. She had seen many strange things at the cottage, but there was one piece of the puzzle that she couldn't get out of her mind.

_I saw the way he looked at me...like he hated me...and he was strung out on something, Lord only knows what...the drink must not have been enough for him. Is it going to be enough for me, if I marry him?_

A gentle knock came at her bedroom door, and her hand flew to cover her mouth instinctively. "W-who is it?"

"Bethany, Miss. There's a person at th' door for you."

Relena swallowed. If it was Heero, she was staying in her room, and that was that. "Tell them to go away!"

"But it's Marcus Wyndham, Miss. 'E wants to know if you'll accompany 'im to th' spring fair in th' village."

Relena's eyes widened slightly, and her gaze snapped back to the mirror. _Marcus! ...oh, but he can't see me like this!_ She swallowed. "Tell him...tell him I'm ill, but that'd I'd enjoy seeing him in a weeks' time, in London. Tell him I _would very much_ like him to visit me then."

Bethany paused, quietly repeating the message to herself and committing it to memory. "Yes, Miss."

"And Bethany?"

"M'lady?"

"Tell Otto to begin preparations for our return to Bridlewood," Relena said, straightening up regally in her chair. "It's time we were getting back home."

"Yes, M'lady."

**********  
  


Early that evening, Duo had lit a fresh fire in the fireplace of his borrowed bedroom, and propped a dozy Heero in front of it to warm up, since there was no longer a window to stop the chilly night air from getting in. He made a mental note to find some planks of wood to nail up to the wall the next day, but for now, he wasn't moving, not for anything. He kept Heero cradled close to him as they sat in front of the fire, wrapped up in their favourite plaid blanket, and as the hours wore on, Duo grew sleepier and Heero grew more coherent. Eventually, their positions were reversed, and Heero had Duo bundled up and cuddled close to him instead.

The events of the day were hazy, disjointed, and confusing. Heero's memory was fragmented, and all he could reliably pick out was a vague memory of being very cruel to Duo, the last person in the world he wanted to hurt. As they sat by the fire, Heero had both arms wrapped tightly around his precious mouse, with one hand curled around the boy's neck and jawline, slowly stroking the side of his face with his thumb. He stared into the writhing orange flames long after Duo had fallen asleep, declaring to himself that his captivity was ended.

_I have come through the fire.....and I'm stronger than I was before. Never again will I be anyone's slave, not while there's a breath left in me._ Duo stirred in his sleep, and Heero clutched him closer, burying his nose in the soft chestnut hair and inhaling deeply.

_Never again._

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Forty-Two: Surprises are in store when the family heads home to London. Heero receives a piece of jewellry that never belonged to him, Quatre receives a shock concerning his family, and Treize receives a phone call that puts a smile on his face even the Cheshire Cat would be proud of._

Wheeee! Happy dance! *dances* Curled up in front of the fire is a great way to end any episode!! And boy, am I glad I finally got to show Noin for what she is, a very strong lady. Sorry for the delay, but the timing had to be perfect. =^_~= And I hope nobody minds how much I'm messing with peoples' nationalities in this series...Noin got Greece instead of Italy, Dorothy got Italy instead of Spain, and Trowa got Spain because he looks so HOT in matador pants...*aherm* pardon me, lost my head there for a minute. =9_9= Now down to business. *gets out her calendar* We shall be returning to Bridlewood on the 3rd of April. Hope you all get some nice goodies from the Easter Bunny! =^_^=


	42. The Trials of Clan MacDougall

**Disclaimer:** In a town called Perfect where there's a Walgreen's on every street corner, every author and authoress has their own set of Gundam pilots to love and to squeeze and to show off to all their friends. But we don't live anywhere near Perfect. *realizes she just ripped off a commercial to explain that she's not ripping off a tv show* Dangit.

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Forty-Two: The Trials of Clan MacDougall

_"It is often easier to fight for principles than to live up to them." ~Adlai E. Stevenson _

April 3rd, 1902

Mid-morning sunlight streamed into the 'great room', a massive hall with plush furnishings that served as a parlour when the guests in the house numbered more than ten or twelve. While Otto was coordinating the last efforts to move the family and their belongings back to Bridlewood, Relena waited, one hand resting atop the ornately-carved white marble mantlepiece as she gazed out the window at the blossoming countryside. She had sent Hilde to deliver a message nearly an hour ago, but her Ladyship had infinite patience, this morning of all mornings.

Fifty feet away, the oaken double doors in the middle of the wall facing the windows opened, and a boy in a dark suit walked in. He shut the doors and stood in front of them with both hands clasped behind his back, content to stay where he was. "You asked to see me?"

"Yes." Relena took her hand off the mantle and toyed with the ring on her finger. "I called you here because we need to talk, and we haven't been doing a lot of that lately."

Reluctantly aloof, Heero walked up beside her, keeping a discreet arm's length between himself and the girl at the expectation that she would try to cling to him yet again. His revulsion for physical contact was rarely stronger than when he was in her presence, whereas in other rooms of the house, with other people, it was becoming quite the opposite. Even if that fact was potentially hurtful to Relena, Heero had to feel a little bit proud that he was starting to develop likes and dislikes for the first time in his life.

"The more I think about our engagement," Relena began, still staring out the window, "the more I worry...that we might be making a terrible mistake."

Heero double-blinked and looked all around the room, wondering when the _real_ Relena was going to jump out from her hiding place and shout 'Gotcha!'

"It's not that I don't care for you anymore, because I do...very much." She looked down at the ring and gracefully slipped it off her finger, gazing one last time into the gemstone's gleaming facets. "I've just come to the realization that you and I are very different people. This wasn't an easy choice for me, but if I'm honest with myself...you're not the man I thought you were."

While she wasn't looking, Heero rolled his eyes slightly. _I could have told you that._

"I hope we can still be civil to one another, and I hope that someday, you might forgive me for my...intolerance." At the end of her well-rehearsed speech, she held out the ring with her right hand, still unwilling to turn her head and look Heero in the eye.

It took a moment to sink in. Relena had broken off their engagement. Heero was officially free. He looked at the ring for a few heartbeats, the loop of metal to which his shackles and leg irons had been attached since Christmas, and took it, placing it in his waistcoat pocket where his watch should have been. "I understand," Heero lied, not really knowing what critical event could have changed her mind, unless his generally churlish behaviour over the last several weeks had been a sufficient protest.

"Now, as to your future," Relena said in a very businesslike manner, "my servants and I are returning to London, as you may know. If at all possible, I'd like to avoid going back short-staffed, so I'm prepared to offer you your old position back, with a small pay rise starting in June. Rather than go through the tiresome falderal of finding a new butler, I'd just as soon let you continue as you did before, since you know the house well and seem to get along with the rest of the staff."

Heero had to think about that. The engagement was off, the mission was off, and he had absolutely no legal responsibility to the Peacecraft family whatsoever. On the other hand, he had promised Pegan, the true head butler by rights, that he would protect Relena from whatever nefarious scheme Treize had simmering, and there was still the Winner family tontine to consider, and several other minor oaths of help and allegiance that Heero made when he thought he'd be tied to Bridlewood indefinitely...it was actually an ideal base of operations from which he could complete his moral obligations before moving on for good. There was just one thing needed to make it bearable. "What about Duo?"

Relena's neck muscles tightened. "What about him?"

"He's been out of work since you left. Those cleaning men the Count hired practically kicked him out of his own kitchen because he didn't know Polish cuisine. Were you planning on hiring him back as well?"

"_First_ of all," Relena said, on the verge of being huffy if not downright snippy, "it is not _his_ kitchen, it's _mine_. I own the house, and I say who's hired and who's fired. Second--"

"_Second_, if you don't want to go through the 'tiresome falderal' of finding a new cook as _well_ as a new butler, you'll reinstate him or suffer more of Elsie's dried-out chicken and crunchy lemon tarts. Take your pick."

Relena snapped her head around to deliver the first witty retort that popped into her vocabulary, but quickly recalled why she had deliberately avoided looking at him thus far. She turned back to the window, folded her arms and pouted, hoping Heero didn't notice anything different about her, but his senses were all working at peak efficiency again, and he wasn't about to miss anything. He stepped closer and turned her face towards his by the chin, curiously examining the faint red vertical line slashing down across her lower lip.

"How did this happen?" he asked with genuine concern.

Relena stared at him in shock. _You don't remember, do you?_ She froze from head to foot.

Heero stepped back and glared, faintly dissatisfied with her disturbing silence. "Did someone hit you?" he demanded, thinking instantly of her dear uncle and his lack of scruples. "I'm _serious_. Tell me who did this."

Since Heero obviously couldn't recall what had happened in the servants' cottage a week or so ago, and since it was a very important catalyst that caused a rapid mental maturation for Relena, she saw no reason to twist the knife and tell him the truth. "No one did anything," she said confidently. "I got up in the middle of the night without striking a match and I tripped over a footstool. That's _all_."

Heero studied her eyes intently; if she was lying, he couldn't detect it. He'd have to let it go for now. Nodding faintly, he stepped back and retreated to the door. Just as he reached it, her Ladyship spoke up again.

"I'd like you to choose one of the guest rooms for yourself," she said, glancing at a flock of starlings on the wing just outside the window. "The attic really isn't suitable for you."

Heero nodded again. "Yes, m'lady." He dutifully shut the heavy double doors behind him as he left, and for a moment, life seemed somewhat normal for both of them. Right when personal turmoil seemed to be at its peak, the youngsters perpetually gravitated towards the familiar, for comfort, and for solace.

**********  
  


The travel arrangements back to London were slightly different than they were on the way to Hampshire. Three carriages were lined up in front of the house, just as before, each heavily laden down with trunks and cases and hatboxes. This time, however, Heero was not invited into the lead carriage. Treize, Relena, Otto and Dorothy had that carriage to themselves, with Anna Maria and Frederick, of course. The housemaids were piled into the last carriage, leaving the middle one empty for whoever was left over by that point.

As discreetly as they could, Duo and Heero crept up to the middle carriage from the direction of the cottages, tied their luggage to the roof, and clambered inside before anyone in the lead carriage could give them a nasty glare. Before they left their humble hideaway, all traces of the last few weeks' drama had to be erased. Heero repaired the window he broke, Duo cleaned up the kitchen to a sparkling shine, Sally cleared out her glassware and other equipment, aided by Lucille, to whom Sally had offered a room in her townhouse for the time being, and Hilde swept all the cat, fox, and miscellaneous animal hair out the door. Just in time, the kindly country couple returned from their cruise holiday in Tenerife, nicely tanned, very relaxed, and still incomprehensible when they spoke. Five minutes later, Duo was out the door. On their way to the carriage, Heero told him what transpired that morning, with background behind the deal he struck with Marcus, and once they were comfortably settled for the journey, they discussed it further.

"How'd she take it?" Duo asked, tucking one foot underneath him on the cushioned bench seat.

Heero exhaled heavily. "Amazingly well. She didn't cry, she didn't scream or complain...she didn't seem like herself, but who am I to question? I got the end result I was looking for, best not to jinx it with unfounded suspicions."

"And this Marcus guy really likes her?" Duo whitsled a long, falling note of astonishment. "We'd better treat him like royalty. Maybe he'll take her off our hands." He slapped Heero's shoulder lightly with the back of his hand and grinned. "Hey, get him to come over for dinner and I'll bring my salmon mousse with dill out of retirement!"

"I'd bring it out of retirement _now_, if I were you," Heero said, shrinking guiltily behind his shirt collar. "She's only taking you back on the strength of your cooking, plus my threat of resignation for good measure."

Duo smiled. "Awww...you quit the _bad_ job for me, you almost quit the _good_ job for me..." He leaned over and rested his head on Heero's shoulder, coaxing a small smile from him at last. "You sure know how to make a guy feel special."

It was a lovely, cozy moment while it lasted, but someone unlatched the carriage door from the outside, and they jumped away from each other as the cherrywood panel swung open. Without warning, Quatre poked his head inside and perched a foot on the step, but froze when he saw Heero. A wave of guilt washed over the gardener's face, and it was only a prod in the back from Trowa that got him the rest of the way into the vehicle. Shadow graciously padded aside, letting the two newcomers share her bench, and they shut the door and sat down quietly.

Duo was the first to break the awkward silence. "So, Trowa, buddy! Bet the horses won't remember you after all this time, huh?"

"Don't worry, I'll take them out back in the park, spend some quality time with them." Another brief silence followed, and Trowa elbowed Quatre lightly in the ribs. "You're looking forward to getting back to the gardens, aren't you?"

"Uh, yeah, I'm...already late with my spring planting, so...it's a good thing we're on our way home." Quatre fiddled with the buttons on his washed-out gray waistcoat, avoiding the eyes of one person in particular. The weight of the next pocket of silence, however, soon made him crack. He looked up with forlorn sea green eyes and shook his head sadly. "Heero, I'm so _sorry_. I was horrible to you the day of the hunt, I just didn't realize that you had no choice in what you were doing! I was worried about Relena and I...jumped to the wrong conclusion."

"Your conclusion was a hundred times simpler than the real one," Heero said sympathetically. "No harm done."

Quatre smiled with relief. "So you're feeling better, then?"

Heero nodded. "Much improved, and it's not likely to ever happen again, but I also don't want you to be guilt-ridden about our...altercation. You were only looking out for Relena's best interests, and I respect that."

"I can't help feeling bad, though," Quatre moaned. "I wish there was some way I could make it up to you."

While Duo and Heero slowly looked at each other, the carriages sprang forward, carting their load away from Sutherby Hall, hopefully on the pace to catch the appropriate train to London. Heero looked back at Quatre with the gleam of a brilliant idea glittering in his eyes. "You really want to do something for me?"

Quatre sat up a little straighter, while Shadow climbed right over his lap to get to Trowa. "What do you have in mind?"

"I gather, from past observation, that you've got a good head for business," Heero said simply.

Quatre almost blushed. "Well, I like to think that I have a good sense of economics, and my math isn't too bad, but I wouldn't call myself an expert."

"Don't be so modest," Trowa said, scratching Shadow behind the ears. "I couldn't have managed to feed the horses on the measly stable budget if you hadn't found so many corners to cut in the gardening budget." Quatre almost blushed again.

"Now that I've abandoned Lord Jeffrhyss, I won't be receiving a salary from him anymore," Heero explained, taking a thick white envelope from his inside jacket pocket. "Problem is, he may want _back_ everything he's paid me up to this point. I've heard of it happening to other agents who either tried to desert or got killed in the line of duty. He reclaims their unspent wages and funnels them straight into a newly-activated agent, thereby keeping large amounts of cash off the books, and away from the authorities."

He handed over the envelope without a second thought. As it passed from his hand to Quatre's, the carriage hit a bump, and they almost dropped it. The gardener forced himself to take an uncouth peek inside, and gaped at the fantastic sum bundled up with a piece of string. It looked to be several hundred pounds, perhaps even a thousand. He swallowed.

"I want you to invest it for me," Heero went on. "Just in case Jeffrhyss sends someone to ransack the manor, I can't have that much money lying around. I'll leave it up to you, what to do with it, and you can place it under any name you wish, just so long as it's out of the house and difficult to find. We can all use it as an emergency slush fund. Anyone who needs to make a quick escape to another city, or country, will be able to do so, and we all have an enemy _somewhere_ in the world. It's the best use I can think of for profits I'm not exactly proud of."

"Y'know...I had my doubts about you," Trowa said to Heero, "but you're alright."

"I won't let you down," Quatre said proudly, concealing the envelope in his own waistcoat pocket.

Duo grinned at his friend. "Was that your good deed for the day?"

Heero shrugged. "If I can think of any more, you'll be the first to hear about it. Now that I don't have a master giving me orders, I'm on my own, so I should probably learn how to be an upstanding citizen, like the rest of you."

Quatre made a little 'tch tch tch' noise and shook his head, smiling. "Heero, look around you. What makes you think you're on your own?"

"And what makes you think you haven't got a master anymore?" Trowa chimed in, looking ahead out the window to the lead carriage, which was negotiating a sharp turn onto the main road to Southampton.

"Yeah, he just got shorter, younger, and blonder!" Duo joked. They all had a good chatty chuckle, trading stories about their Lady and taskmaster, and just enjoying the leisurely ride before they would be put back to work at Bridlewood once again.

**********  
  


Later that afternoon, Quatre eagerly made good on his word. He and Trowa visited an upper class bank on the High Street, wearing their Sunday best for an optimal first impression. As they sat before the banker in his marble-tiled office, Quatre astounded his companion with an extensive financial vocabulary. The humble gardener and the bearded banker discussed stocks, bonds, dividends, the market share index, and a multitude of other concepts that Trowa had only heard of in fairy tales. They managed to construct an impressive portfolio before teatime, and left the bank with their heads held high.

As the pair jogged down the white stone steps leading up to the bank, Trowa elbowed Quatre, who was all smiles. "You enjoyed that, didn't you?"

"Indeed I did!" Quatre answered melodiously. "I won't lie to you...I miss having money. I miss holding it, and counting it, and making plans with it. I miss being in control of my own meagre fiduciary destiny. Do you think that's being greedy?"

"I don't think it's the same thing," Trowa said with a quick shake of his head. "Greed is never being satisfied with what you have. You always seem to appreciate what you have while you've got it."

They joined the flow of pedestrian traffic out enjoying the sunshine before the spring rains set in, and Quatre steered his friend towards a newspaper cart with a striped awning. "I could teach you how to manage your finances too, if you like," he said, perusing the selection of newspapers on display.

"Thanks, but I haven't got that much to manage," Trowa chuckled. He picked up a paper at random and scanned the world news for anything of interest that was happening in Spain. "About the only useful thing I've done with my wages is take a few shillings to the racetrack. I won four pounds sixpence, mind you, but I suppose I can't rely on that forev--" Trowa turned to make eye contact with Quatre, but the blond boy was gone. He looked left, right, and turned around, but couldn't find him anywhere.

A pale hand tugged at Trowa's pant leg. "Down here!" someone whispered.

Trowa looked down and saw Quatre crouched down next to the newspaper cart, obscuring himself from everyone and everything to Trowa's immediate right. "What are you do--"

"Shh! Don't look at me! Look up! Look up!"

Trowa immediately looked up at the last published copy of Harper's Bazar, specially imported and offered at a premuim price as a collector's item. "What's going on?" he whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

"See that girl over there? The one with the headscarf?" Trowa turned his head to investigate, but that only got him a sharper tug and a frantic warning. "Don't look at her!"

"How am I supposed to see her if I don't look?"

"Well, you can look, but don't _look_ look, or she'll see you looking!"

Scrambling for ideas, Trowa picked up a newspaper, opened it in front of his face, and casually turned to his right, peering over the top edge of the inky newsprint. Not more than twenty paces away, there was a young woman with a few wisps of dark hair escaping from a golden yellow scarf wrapped around her head and shoulders. The rest of her clothes were fancy fabrics of red, orange and gold, draped around her very artistically but mostly covered by a dark coat of British origin. Not only did she look foreign, but she didn't look as though she had come prepared for the weather, or for the spring breeze that plucked her hair into plain view no matter how much she tried to shove it back under the scarf. She was also quite pretty, and about Trowa's age.

"I see her," he whispered.

"That's Nashida," Quatre said in his lowest possible tone. "She has a twin, Asalah, and they're _never_ apart. Asalah's bound to be around here somewhere."

Trowa watched the girl as she stopped browsing a street vendor's jewellery and began walking towards the newsstand. "She's coming this way!"

Quatre panicked, and chose the only route that reasonably guaranteed safety and concealment, which was under the newsstand. The heavily-sideburned cockney vendor yelped and jumped, looking down at the fair-haired youth crawling about at his feet, and was understandably surprised. Without missing a beat, Trowa caught the man's attention and complained bitterly, not to mention loudly, that the pages of the newspaper he was holding weren't in the correct order, just to keep him from giving Quatre away as the veiled girl walked past, paying little attention to the ruckus. As soon as she was well out of sight, Trowa dropped the paper, ended the argument with the frustrated vendor, and rapped sharply on the far right-hand side of the newsstand. Quatre emerged at the signal, scrambling fearfully to his feet, and the two of them shot off in the opposite direction from his sister as fast as their legs could carry them.

**********  
  


After a hectic and draining furlough in the country, Heero was looking forward to just putting his feet up until he was called back to his duties, but there was a small matter of accommodations to be settled first. Relena had offered him his choice of rooms elsewhere in the house, and he didn't take the responsibility lightly. After surveying a dozen different rooms and gauging their relative merit as living spaces, he chose a suite on the second floor with modest décor, and a small balcony, like many of the bedrooms had. It was at the back of the house, overlooking the rear gardens, and was the closest bedroom to the west stairs, which led straight down to the kitchen. Efficient, yet calming.

Anticipating that he'd be summoned to serve tea any minute, he slung his suitcases up on the bed and dug out one of his uniform suits to change into. He was out of his travel jacket and about to unbutton his waistcoat when the door creaked open, allowing a cat to enter and a mouse to follow. "Knock knock!" the mouse sang cheerily. "Anyone home?"

Heero waved Duo in as Shadow padded around her luxurious new environment with queenly grace. Duo stood just inside the door, still carrying his carpet bag with both hands on the handle, and took a long, sweeping glance around the new butler's quarters. It looked expensive, but tasteful, with upper-middle class furnishings, red and purple fabrics for accent, and its own ensuite bath. It was nice...far nicer than the so-called cook's nook in the attic.

"Wow...some place you ended up with," Duo said quietly, masking a touch of sadness with a wry smile. "Bet you can see clear across Regent's Park from your window...and no second-hand furniture, either! Yeah, this is a real classy joint you hooked yourself up with..."

Heero faintly smirked to himself and set about unpacking, content to let Duo jabber on for as long as he liked.

"Guess you're thrilled to get out of that drafty attic, huh? I haven't even been up there yet to count the dust bunnies, I just spent the last half hour surveying the damage in the kitchen. Man, it's a disaster zone down there...plates of half-eaten cheese perogies, stale potato pancakes on the stove, a vat of red cabbage stew that's been fermenting since God-knows-when...it's probably for the best that you've got your own room now, 'cause I'll be scrubbing the place down 'till three in the morning, and I wouldn't want to distur--"

"Duo..."

"...hm?"

"Put the bag down."

Duo's smirk grew into a genuine smile of joy. He tossed the bag aside, ran at Heero, and knocked him onto the bed with a flying tackle, inflicting a dastardly tickle torture on his victim as they flopped around next to the empty suitcases. The skirmish was brief, and they both sat up to catch their breath and bask in the glow of their combined optimism.

"Hey...ten to one Relena has a fit when she finds out we're sharing a room under her roof again," Duo wagered. "Or should I be saying, _if_ she finds out?"

"I honestly don't care whether she objects or not," Heero said firmly, "and I got the impression this morning that she'd rather _not_ know in any case." Dodging Duo's look of surprise, he got up and went to the chest of drawers, putting away what little he had in the way of non-business attire. "I'm not about to let her keep me from my freedom, after what I went through to get it, and besides, I wouldn't have made it this far without your help, so you have every right to be wherever I am." He turned around and was comforted to see that Duo had stood up and followed him eagerly. They locked eyes, hoping that no pesky knocks or clanging bells would spoil this ideal moment. "You saved me."

Duo's eyes sparkled, and his smile grew. The boys hugged each other tightly and were loathe to let go, but their duties had to catch up with them sometime, and the longer they spent in each other's arms, the tougher it would be to leave them. Duo was first to pull away. "Back to the salt mines, I suppose."

"There are worse things than an honest day's work," Heero reminded him with a raised eyebrow.

The chef nodded. "Yeah." He flashed a final grin and headed for the door, pausing to reflect on how well everything had turned out at last. "Amazing...things are finally looking up for a change." He left after that, opting to get the messy part of the evening's work over with before putting on clean chef's garb.

Heero went back to finding new homes for his paltry belongings, but was only alone for a few minutes before Quatre came knocking at the door next. The gardener politely waited until he was invited in, but practically ran over to Heero once the invitation came. He had a terribly serious look on his face.

"It's done," he said. "Every last penny. I put seventy-five pounds each in oil, steel, and grain futures, a hundred pounds each in Daimler Motorcars and the Creighton nickel mine in Sudbury, and the rest I put into an American company called Dupont." It sounded like good news, but the boy still looked highly troubled.

Heero nodded appreciatively, then picked up on the bad vibe. "What's wrong? Did the market collapse on the way over here?"

"No no, everything's trading normally for the time of day," Quatre reassured him...and yet...he continued to look worried.

"Are you...concerned that someone might stumble across the paperwork?"

"No, all the documents are in separate safety deposit boxes, and the keys to all those boxes are in this box," the gardener said, handing over a tiny silver key. "Um...I know you said we should save that money for an emergency, in case any of us needed to leave the country in a hurry...and I don't want you to think I'm making an early grab for it, but...I saw one of my sisters today."

Starting from the top down, Heero slowly deflated as the moral obligations all came back, danced around his head in a dizzying pattern, and stabbed him all over with their little pitchforks, letting his good mood drain out through a thousand spiritual puncture wounds. "Did you really?"

"I wouldn't lie about this, Heero, really! Trowa saw her too! She was in the street outside the bank...she didn't see me, but I'm _sure_ she's brought others along with her!"

Heero swabbed both hands over his forehead and eyes, then dragged them down the side of his face and exhaled. _What was Duo saying about things looking up?_ "Alright...we'll go to high alert and keep someone with you at all times. Wufei should have arrived before us, maybe he'd be willing to help, if you don't mind him knowing your life story."

"One more won't make much difference now," Quatre agreed, wringing his hands, "but I don't want anyone getting hurt over this."

"Of course." Heero shut the suitcases and stowed them under the bed; when he stood back up, Quatre was staring at Duo's carpet bag, on the floor next to the full-length mirror, and he had a strange, apprehensive look on his face. "Anything else?" the butler asked.

Quatre's head snapped up, and he babbled shamefully at being caught looking. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't realize that you two were still...um..." The boys followed each other with their eyes until Quatre choked out what he meant but was almost too embarrassed to say. "...sharing a room."

Heero was puzzled at the way the boy's voice dropped to a whisper, as if he found something hideously wrong with the apparent living arrangements. He blinked rapidly in wonderment. "You and Trowa are sharing a room," he said without concern.

"Well, _yes_, but not like...not in the same...I mean, uh...we don't _actually_...not that I'm suggesting that _you two_ are..." Quatre blubbered hopelessly, digging himself deeper and deeper while Heero gazed at him in total bewilderment. He knew for a fact that the boy couldn't have been drinking, and yet he couldn't finish even one sentence all of a sudden, and kept glancing uncomfortably back and forth between the carpet bag and the ever so slightly rumpled bedcovers. Finally, Quatre pulled himself together and laughed nervously, backing up to the door. "Heh...it's really none of my business anyway."

As Quatre failed at four attempts in a row to rapidly work the door handle and retreat, Heero felt somewhat bad for him. _Poor soul...the pressure must really be getting to him._

On the fifth try at the door handle, the gardener was successful, but instead of escaping what he saw as a den of sins he wished he didn't want to know about, he was shoved backwards by an anxious Trowa, who was just coming up to the other side of the door and barrelled through it. "We have a problem," the cinnamon-haired boy blurted out. "While we were away, Arthur was attacked."

The moral obligations flooded back in and swam around Heero's head, only instead of little pitchforks, they were whacking him with big wooden mallets. And it had started out as such a _nice_ day...

**********  
  


For the umpteenth time since the meddlesome boy arrived the night before and saw the extent of his injuries, Arthur swatted Wufei away as he tried to put salve on the last of his bruises. "Ach! Away with ye, lad! I've 'ad more'n enough o'yer mollycodd'lin!" the curmudgeonly carpenter barked.

"Hold still, you old buzzard, or I'll spill this all over," Wufei shot back. They were actually enjoying each other's company, though it would be difficult for an outsider to tell. Though they started off highly mistrustful and on guard against anything, they were also equally stubborn, equally driven by honour, and equally nasty when pushed too far. In short, they were getting along splendidly, and Wufei had been especially appreciative of him ever since he made his way back to check on the gold and heard Arthur's wild tale of treachery and torment. "And stop picking at that bandage," he added, slapping Arthur's hand away from his forehead.

"Ah'd a'thought ye'd 'ave bett'r things to do wi' yer time," Arthur shot back. "Ah'm no' an invalid, y'know!"

As they traded barbs and putdowns as easily as some people traded fishing stories, there was a knock at the door. Wufei put down the pot of salve and went straight to open it, knowing that Trowa had returned, as promised. It was a slightly larger group than he expected; both Heero and the boy gardener tried to look over Wufei's shoulder, and he let all three of them squish through the door and dash across to the sitting room where Arthur was nursing a wrist wrapped thickly in strips of cloth. Overall, he didn't look too bad, but then, what transpired happened many days ago, and he had nearly revocered already.

"What happened?" Heero demanded.

As they all took seats around his armchair, Arthur sighed and shrugged. "Didnae see 'em comin'...a right ratty pack o' workmen stormed in, oh...'bout three weeks ago, an' demanded to know where the gold was bein' kept. Ah kept me mouth shut as long as ah could, but then they got impatient. Made a terrible mess o' this place, e'en broke a coupla chairs, but ah didnae give 'em anythin', at first."

"Did they say who sent them?" Quatre asked.

"As if they 'ad to! They were talkin' some other language 'alf the time, but th' word 'Khushrenada' came through loud 'n clear."

Heero felt terrible. The poor man never would have gotten involved if not for him, and judging by how long it was taking some of his injuries to heal, he must not have been in prime health to begin with. He was covered in old cuts, scrapes, bruises, and probably some deeper wounds underneath that even Arthur himself couldn't see. While the butler silently berated himself, however, Trowa was itching for revenge. "We've got to find these lunatics before they come back for a second helping!" he exclaimed.

"They haven't been back since, and we think we know why," Wufei said. "All they wanted to know was where the gold's hidden. Once they beat it out of him, they just left. Nobody's come back to remove the gold, and as far as we can tell, it's all accounted for."

"That doesn't make any sense," Heero mused.

"Why would Treize go to all that trouble and then not collect on his investment?" Trowa wondered.

"And who's next on his hit list?" Quatre added with a slight tremor in his voice.

"Don't be frightened, lad," Arthur said, patting Quatre's shoulder. "Ah gave 'em quite the hiding before they subdued me, I'll tell ya! Used to box for mah old regiment in the Scottish army, and ah've still got a few good moves left! If anyone comes back, we'll be ready for 'em!"

Behind them all, the door creaked open, and a tall, smirking gentleman appeared. "I should stay off my feet, if I were you," he said in a velvety voice. All four boys leapt to Arthur's defence, standing between the old carpenter and the suave intruder with fierce glares all 'round. Treize took only two steps inside the cottage, then put his hands in his pockets and evaluated the potential threat from the servants as minimal. He shook his head at Arthur. "An elderly gentleman like you really ought to avoid exertion."

Heero immediately took the lead and scowled. "You don't look a bit worried, so why don't you just take what you want?"

"Have faith, Mr. Yuy, I'm no amateur. I know where the gold is now, and I'm content to let it sit for the time being. Is that so difficult to understand? And as for you, sir," Treize said, glancing casually at Arthur, "I require nothing more from you, so you may call off your little tribe of savages."

"We're just here to make sure you don't cause any more damage!" Trowa growled. "For all we know, any one of us could be next...even your favourite niece, I'll bet."

Treize gasped in mock horror. "You wound me, boy! As if I'd harm such a charming example of womanhood!"

"You took away her father, and now you want to take away her fortune," Heero said firmly, scowling harder. "That's harm."

"And I suppose the five of you think you have the power to stop me?" Treize chuckled.

To everyone's surprise, the door Treize was blocking the view of slammed shut, and Duo was standing in front of it. "No, but the _six_ of us have the power to make your life miserable in every _other_ respect, so don't push us."

"Now, now, children," Treize chided, "playtime's over and it's time you were all settling down for your nap. The gold is perfectly safe where it is, and the list of people who can get to it is growing shorter every day. I won't pester you with details, but there's been a rather significant battle in South Africa recently, one that's going to strengthen my position beyond your ability to reach, even if you decide not to let me leave intact. Besides, how do you think the courts will see it if an unarmed aristocrat is beset upon by five lower-class thugs taking revenge for their battered ringleader? If I don't walk out of here in perfect condition, it won't look good to the authorities, I promise you that."

Duo took the long way around Treize and leapt acrobatically over a table to join the others, still proud of the way he snuck up behind Treize all the way from the house without him noticing. "Go ahead and walk. We know where you live."

Treize smirked and strolled the short distance back to the door. "On a two-way street, if you'll remember. See you at dinner, Mr. Yuy." With that thinly-veiled threat hanging in the air, the Count left the cottage as silently as he had come.

The five young conspirators exhaled as one, and seemed quite down about their new situation until Arthur raised his voice with renewed strength. "Don't tell me you're all _intimidated_ by the likes of 'im! We've go' a duty to a young lass now, we can't _afford_ to be intimidated!" Struggling against lingering pain to lean forward in his armchair, he hastily pointed Quatre to a jug of cider on the kitchen counter. "Fetch us that jug, lad, and you, cook, fetch summat to pour it into!" Acting on his instructions, Duo and Quatre brought the jug of cider and six mugs to the sitting room, and a helping of the biting apple liquid was poured out to each of them sitting in the circle.

Arthur raised his mug and addressed the boys sternly. "Now then...the group of us, what's sitting 'ere...we are _not_ gonna be bullied by that forked-tongued bog monster, and we're _not_ gonna let 'im hurt Miss Relena! I'm makin' every one o' ye an honourary MacDougall, so now you _can't_ let me down or I'll disown ye!" The boys grinned at each other and Arthur. "Raise your glasses, lads."

Six mugs of cider were lofted in the air.

"Let's all of us show Khushrenada he's no' goin' to push us around anymore. 'Buaidh no bàs', lads! Victory or death!"

"Victory or death!" the others chimed in, before taking a drink in perfect unison.

"Preferably not death," Duo added.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Forty-Three: Quatre discovers the extent of the threat suddenly against him, as more of his family appears within the boundaries of London. Relena receives terrible news from the frontline of the Boer War, but will she run to Heero or Marcus for comfort?_

Guess what? I'm going to start doing historical notes again! (With Rachel's help. =^_^=) Actually...she did most of the work on historical accuracy for this episode, and she's cooked up some notes that'll knock your socks off! With any luck, they'll be up tomorrow, and believe me, there's something in there that made me laugh for ten minutes straight without taking a deep breath. It's that cute. Now then, next episode...*looks at calendar*...April 12th, if you can stand the wait. =^_~= Ja ne!


	43. O Brother, Where Art Thou?

Bleh...Dreamwater's having one of its "Cannot create directory" fits, as those of you familiar with their otherwise fine service should be used to by now. =~_~= But anyway, that's the inherent value of having **two** upload sites! =^_~=

**Disclaimer:** In a town called Perfect where there's a Walgreen's on every street corner, every author and authoress has their own set of Gundam pilots to love and to squeeze and to show off to all their friends. But we don't live anywhere near Perfect. *realizes she just ripped off a commercial to explain that she's not ripping off a tv show* Dangit.

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Forty-Three: O Brother, Where Art Thou?

_"Courage is like love; it must have hope for nourishment." ~Napoleon I _

April 12th, 1902

Theoretically, there was a city bylaw on the books in London prohibiting people from sleeping in public places, such as alleyways, promenades, and parklands. This of course applied to Regents Park, which touched the back property line of every stately home on Whittington Place, including Bridlewood, but there were a few souls desperate enough to risk arrest and camp out in the open air overnight.

Sleeping on poor straw mats but covered by upmarket gabardine coats, a small delegation of foreign girls slowly woke as the sun's first rays streaked the sky. Tired and travel-worn, they were greatly tempted to leave their chosen spot, right behind the six-foot stone wall enclosing Bridlewood, just opposite the stables, but even though they could have afforded the finest hotel in London, nothing would move them. They agreed that no force on Earth would tear them away until they had spoken to their brother.

**********  
  


Sally and Noin hit it off right away and were fast becoming best friends. Being the same age and about the same temperament, sharing the doctor's townhouse was practical and pleasant, and Sally's spare room, however humble, was easily the finest accommodation Noin had been afforded in more than a year. Very shortly, she felt comfortable enough to tell Sally all about her flight from Greece, including her real name and the name of her preferred beau.

When Sally heard the name 'Peacecraft', and started making assumptions about Noin's involvement with Heero's mission, confusion ensued. It didn't take Noin long to realize, with a mixture of highly-charged emotions that all required yelling to express, that she had been interacting with, fighting for, and obsessing over a boy whose job it was to cling to the sister of the man she loved, and never knew it. By the time Noin finished explaining the irony of it all, both their heads were spinning wildly. Passionately seeking a remedy, Noin insisted on accompanying Sally to Bridlewood, as she was going there anyway to check on Arthur's rate of recovery. The carriage ride there was...interesting.

"I could throttle that kid," Noin said angrily, limbs crossed sternly and one finger twitching in frustration. "All this time I've been sneaking off letters to Milliardo in secret, creeping all over the countryside hoping not to get caught, and if he'd mentioned just _one_ time that his whole purpose in life was to weld himself to Relena, I might've avoided a lot of torment!"

Sally nodded placatively. "Mm. Thoughtless, just thoughtless."

"And Giorgenson, too! He's been smuggling my letters to the post office for me! He knew who they were for, and he knew how much it would have helped if I could have spoken to Relena! Why didn't he _say_ something!? My family never would have thought to look for me in Hampshire! I could have been hiding there in total comfort since January!"

"Mmmm. Terrible, just terrible."

"I don't expect them to be mind-readers, but you'd think at least _one_ of them might have thought to tip me off before now! I mean, what's _wrong_ with them!? Why don't they _think_!?"

Sally nodded yet again. "Mm-hm. That's men for you."

Their carriage pulled up in front of Bridlewood, and Noin took a long look out the window at the imposing brick structure. "Milliardo brought me here once, years ago...to meet his father. He was a nice man, and he seemed to like the idea of having me for a daughter-in-law. Pity _my_ family wasn't as flexible..."

The two women marched boldly up the front walk, onto the porch, and rang the bell. Noin stood with her hands clasped behind her in a military fashion, and when Heero opened the door and performed the cutest double-take she'd ever seen as he displayed obvious shock at seeing her there, it was hard not to smile. "You might have _told_ me," she said before striding easily past him and into the foyer, before Heero had a chance to regain the power of speech.

The stunned butler watched Noin stroll away down the hall, then looked back at Sally for an explanation. "Told her wha--why is she even _here_?"

Sally clucked her tongue at the boy. "You men...maybe if you paid more attention to us womenfolk, you wouldn't all be perpetually in the dark, now would you?" She followed Noin's path, and Heero stood at the door, staring at the empty porch and thinking for a full ten seconds before shaking his head and closing it.

Noin walked right through the house, peeking in open doorways until she reached the main parlour, where she found who she was looking for. Relena was lounging daintily on the sofa, thumbing through magazines with colour plates of the latest spring fashions, and looked up at the gentle knocking on the doorframe to her left. At first, she didn't recognize the dark-haired woman, but a vague familiarity came to her as she rose to greet her guest.

Noin smiled and stepped forward, replaced unobtrusively in the doorway by Heero and Sally. "Hello, Relena," she said. "You probably don't remember me, do you? You were only that high, last time I saw you." She held her hand less than five feet off the floor to illustrate.

Soon, Relena smiled broadly and skipped up to the tall brunette, grasping both her hands and squeezing them. "Lucrezia!" she gasped. "Of _course_ I remember you! My brother told me he hoped to marry you when he came home from the war! How _are_ you?" She gave her butler a very minor glance. "Tea, Heero."

Noin was hustled away into a brightly energetic catch-up-on-life chat, and Heero was quickly forgotten. He raised an eyebrow at Sally, who apparently knew more about Noin than he did, judging by the smugly amused feminist look on her face. Shaking his head again, he left to fetch the tea, while Sally crept outside to check on Arthur.

**********  
  


Spring cleanup at Bridlewood, as Trowa discovered, was no small task. All throughout winter, and during the windy month of March, the trees on the property had been dropping twigs, and there were a few that even lost whole branches one blustery day. They all had to be picked up, dried out, and bundled up in the cellar to be used as kindling, and Trowa volunteered for this task in order to give Quatre more time to clean out the conservatory.

He gave his lower back a huge workout, bending down every two feet to collect the twigs and toss them end-first into a long, cylindrical basket slung over his shoulder. That morning, he worked his way along a four-foot swath of back lawn all the way to the rear property line without incident, but as he picked up a fallen pine bough and worked on breaking it into smaller pieces, a strange sound came floating over the wall. Someone sneezed.

Trowa put the sprigs of pine down silently and eyed the wall with suspicion. "Who's there?" he demanded, crouching defensively.

There were some quiet rustling noises, but nobody claimed responsibility for the sneeze. Hoping to catch whoever it was in the act of sneaking up on the house, Trowa threw down the basket of twigs, ran to the stable a short distance away, grabbed a wooden ladder off its wall pegs, and ran back to the same spot along the wall. He propped the ladder up against the high mountain of red brick, and climbed up to catch a glimpse of the would-be intruder.

As he reached the top of the wall, a strange thing happened. A wisp of golden yellow fabric appeared, followed by a lightly-tanned face with big brown eyes frozen in a fearful stare. It was a girl, one who stirred a vague sense of recognition in Trowa as they locked gazes, peering curiously at each other from the exact same elevation above the wall, their four hands steadying themselves against the concrete capstones. In a moment of horror, Trowa realized it was Nashida, whom Quatre spotted outside the bank more than a week ago, but in the very next moment, he almost couldn't believe that anyone with such soulful, feminine eyes could ever harm her own flesh and blood, let alone a stranger like him.

The girl swallowed nervously. "Please," she whispered with a light and exotic accent, "may I speak with him?"

Trowa slouched. Obviously, their cover had been blown, but at least the girl had approached him politely and without pretense. _Unless she's only being kind and honest because I caught her,_ Trowa thought grimly. "I can't let you inside. It's not my house, or my right."

The girl looked to either side and thought. "Could you bring him here to talk?"

Trowa tried to act aloof, while carefully watching for hidden daggers to come flying over the wall at him. "Well, I don't know...he's pretty busy...and even if I ask him, he might say no."

"Yes, I understand," the girl said. Suddenly, she dropped down about two inches and grabbed at the capstone, glancing at her feet. "Could you...hurry, please?"

Before Trowa could answer, the girl in the golden scarf dropped completely down behind the wall, and he heard some light thuds. Unfortunately, the ladder was too short for him to get high enough to see closely over the wall, but soon he had something new to focus on anyway. The same tanned face with the big brown eyes emerged back from below the capstone, only this time, it was wrapped in a scarf of emerald green. It was then that Trowa remembered that Nashida had a twin, according to Quatre. If his memory served, her name was Asalah. She looked tired.

"We'll wait right here while you ask him," the green-veiled girl said, "but say whatever you have to, to convince him.....you _must_, it's _very_ important!"

Trowa wished he had Quatre's gift for sniffing out a lie, but eventually agreed, guessing that if the two sisters had so much trouble just peeking over the wall, they probably wouldn't be able to cross it. Reluctantly, he nodded and climbed down, not just to fetch Quatre, but a sword as well.

**********  
  


After Heero poured tea for Relena and Noin, and brought up a tray of Duo's three-minute express finger sandwiches, he met Sally in the kitchen, on her way back from Arthur's cottage. He had originally refused all medical attention out of pride, but quickly warmed up to the idea of being tended to by a 'bonnie lass' such as Sally. When she came back in through the servants' entrance, in one of her more traditional dresses of pale slate blue, she found Heero alone in the kitchen with his own cup of tea, as Duo was off reorganizing the pantry.

"How is he?" Heero asked, pouring out some of the second batch of brew for her.

"Pretty good, actually," Sally said, sitting next to him. "About the only thing left on him that's still gravely injured is his dignity, but he'll recover." She took a sip of tea, then gave Hero a whimsical smile. "You should've seen the look on your face."

Heero half-grunted and stared straight ahead. Missing the link between Noin and the Peacecraft family after so many hours spent in the woman's company wasn't sitting well with him. "How was I to know?"

"Easy. Ask."

"I already knew all that I needed to about Lucrezia for the sake of the mission. There was no purpose in prying."

Sally quickly finished off her tea and smirked. "Maybe she would have appreciated the effort anyway." The doctor was met by a blank stare. "What I mean is, finding out one another's unimportant details is how people become close, mentally. It's called conversation...but then, I suppose that was programmed out of you a long time ago, to make sure you didn't accidentally endear yourself to anybody."

"...hn."

"But if you _could_ talk, what would you say?" Sally quipped.

Heero would have come back at her with something acrid and biting to the effect that he and Duo had a dozen conversations a day, but closed his mouth when he stopped to think, and discovered that he really didn't know many 'unimportant details' about his closest friend. Most of what they discussed involved the outside world; very little was about themselves. He would have pondered the matter further, but the front doorbell rang, and thinking time was officially over. "Will you be staying for dinner?" he asked on his way out of the kitchen.

Sally stood and shook her head, snatching a chocolate-coated tea cake and biting it in half. "I'll see myself out. Lucrezia warned me that she might be here awhile."

Heero raised an eyebrow at her one last time, then thought some more about the value of prying as he headed upstairs to answer the door.

**********  
  


As soon as Trowa found Quatre and told him who was hiding on the other side of the wall, the first thing they did was find Hilde and tell her too. She went straight to Arthur's cottage for reinforcements, and Trowa retrieved one of the swords hidden around the house, preparing for the worst. On the way back to the wall, they took a longer ladder from the coachhouse, for a little bit of a tactical advantage.

"You go up the short ladder," Trowa instructed quietly, "and I'll creep up the tall one so I can catch them if they try to leap over the wall."

"They're only a year older than me, and I don't think I could leap over anything that tall if I tried."

"Well, just in case then." They approached the wall and gingerly propped their ladders against it. Even the very slight noise the ladders made alerted the girls to their presence, and no sooner had Quatre stepped up high enough to put both trembling hands up on the concrete capstone than the golden-veiled Nashida appeared. The reality sank in just then that the last time Quatre was this close to one of his sisters, several people died. Nevertheless, he wasn't getting any threatening vibes from her, so there was a small chance that everything would be alright.

"Nashida," he breathed timidly.

The girl smiled. "Brother! Are you well?"

Quatre nodded. "Quite well, thank you."

"And thank you for coming. We weren't sure if you'd be willing to see us...considering..."

Down below, on Nashida's side of the wall, there was a sudden clink of metal on metal, and Trowa sprang into action, vaulting off his ladder and clear over the wall, sword in hand. The boys' assumption that it was just two girls on the other side of the wall was shattered, as _six_ young women yelped in fear and scattered in all directions. Asalah, who was holding Nashida up to the wall on one bare foot, dropped her, and they both tried to follow the other four away from their hiding place. Up ahead, a nimble Chinese boy leapt down from the branches of a tree with a sword of his own and blocked their path. To the left, a tall, pudgy groundskeeper in a cap emerged from behind another tree, brandishing a pitchfork. To the right, a petite brunette in a maid's uniform sprang at them with a slingshot at the ready. The six petrified girls were caught in a well-designed pincer movement.

Quatre climbed on top of the wall and stood towering over his sisters, trying to see the faces of the other four; they wore dark hooded cloaks, and were highly reluctant to reveal their identities. "We don't want any trouble," he reassured them, "just stay where you are for a moment."

The moment was long and deathly quiet as both sides evaluated the danger they were in. Ready to make the first move, one of the cloaked women, the tallest of the group, raised her hands in surrender and turned around, gracefully lowering her hood. It was a woman about Sally's age, with sea green eyes the same shade as her brother's, full red lips slightly parted with a tenuously held breath, and dark brown shoulder-length hair that billowed around her face in soft, shiny waves. She looked up at Quatre in the spirit of deference and negotiation, for she knew her sisters were at the mercy of her brother's fine English guard, and raised her hands up to him in a plea for all their lives. "Help us."

The deep, sultry voice, spiced with a hint of the east and all its mysteries, shot like a flaming arrow through Quatre's heart, and he clutched a hand to his throat with a gasp. "...Yasmeen!" Before Trowa could warn him not to, he hopped down off the wall and approached her, as she lowered her arms, palms facing upward in gentle submission. Quatre pored over the face, the eyes, and the ethereally visible parts of her soul, searching for even the tiniest signs of malice, and finding none. "I'm listening."

Yasmeen looked over each of her shoulders at the three girls still hidden by their cloaks, and all at once, they removed their hoods. Quatre knew them all, and despite the potential danger that still remained, he was glad to see them.

"We've been running," Yasmeen said, "ever since the rest of our family went mad and began hunting us down with their private armies. We earned your Rashid's trust by helping defend our ancestral home and its treasure vaults from our own blood, and in return, he told us where we could find you. For days, we've been searching this city, because we came and found the house empty, but when Nashida saw you and your friend, we had hope again. We all condemned the tontine because we have no wish to see our family exterminated from the inside, but there are too many others who still want to fight. If there was _any_ other place for us to go, to hide ourselves without endangering anyone else, we would, but we have been chased out of more places than we count." Yasmeen dropped her hands and lowered her head; the others all did the same. "We have no one else to turn to, brother. If you do not hide us, we are all dead."

Trowa was unconvinced. "I _distinctly_ heard the sound of metal a moment ago. How can we take you at your word if you've smuggled weapons into the country?"

"I swear to you, we came here unarmed," Yasmeen vowed, staring at the ground before Trowa's feet.

"Don't panic, Trowa," Quatre said. "I think I can explain what you heard." With an impish grin, the gardener folded his arms and walked past Yasmeen to another of the cloaked girls, who ducked her head guiltily as he approached. "Adeela...do you have something to show us?"

Adeela, another brunette, halfway between Quatre and Yasmeen, age-wise, with hazel eyes and straight hair tied back at the sides with colourful jewelled baubles, unwrapped her cloak and showed the others what she was wearing. She had on a dazzling blue and fuchsia dancer's garment, with intricate designs of gold woven into the skirt and row upon row of little gold charms sewn all over it, and she wore many bracelets, anklets and necklaces of different metals that clinked and tinkled every time she drew breath. The cloak was the only thing muffling the arsenal of metallic trinkets from her homeland.

Yasmeen gurgled in frustration and scowled at Adeela. "I thought I told you to take those off and throw them away!"

"Oh, but I couldn't, Yasmeen, I just _couldn't_!" Adeela whined. "It's my best dress, and I can't just ruin it! I only got to pick one dress when we left home, and if I chop off all the charms, where am I going to get a new one!? How could I earn anything dancing in a mangled dress if we have to stay in England for years and years until our money runs out!? I tried to be quiet, honest I did!" Adeela stroked the shining garment lovingly and gave her older sister a timid smile. "Besides...it's my favourite..."

Yasmeen rolled her eyes and sneered. "I can't _believe_ we're related."

"Could we _please_ come to a consensus here?" Hilde pleaded from the far right tree trunk, still holding up a primed and ready slingshot. "My arms are getting tired!" Arthur and his pitchfork, and Wufei and his sword, didn't disagree, but didn't add to the complaint for fear of appearing weak, but they both would have preferred to either use their weapons soon or put them down altogether.

Quatre retreated to where Trowa was standing, and could tell by the look on his face that he didn't approve. "Before you say anything," Quatre whispered, "I believe them. If they were trying to trick me, I would have realized it by now."

"So you're all prepared to let them hide _here_, without Relena's permission? Without her _knowledge_, even?"

"Well, we can't _tell_ her! As soon as she finds out she has six wealthy heiresses for lodgers, it'll be all over London! I won't hear a word against Relena, but you _know_ she can't keep her mouth shut!" Quatre rubbed his chin and sighed as they mulled everything over. "We could squeeze them into the basement, at least for tonight, until we can think of an excuse to tell her..."

Trowa still didn't like it. He frowned, then winced, then squinted, then took one look at Quatre's turquoise puppy dog eyes and caved like a matchstick bridge carrying a truckload of anvils. He sighed. "Are you sure about this?"

"Yasmeen's right. If we don't hide them, they could all be in terrible danger."

"But Shareefa found you easily enough, and so did Intisaar," Trowa reminded him needlessly. "Who's to say the next batch won't find our 'guests' with even less effort?"

Quatre shrugged. "Then that's the chance we take, but we'd be no worse off than we are now, and we'll _all_ be able to protect each other. Safety in numbers. What do you think?"

Trowa looked over Quatre's shoulder and nodded in the direction of the group behind them. "I think it's been decided for us."

At that, Quatre turned around and gawked. The twins had Wufei by an arm each and were shamelessly flattering him on his sword-handling technique, and he didn't look entirely displeased with the attention. Arthur was leaning on his pitchfork and chatting amiably with the two sisters who hadn't been formally introduced yet, and every few words, he pointed to the top of a different tree visible over the wall and told them what the weather was like on the day he planted it, and also what year. To top it off, Adeela was already showing Hilde how to use her finger cymbals as part of her very first belly dancing lesson. Yasmeen rolled her eyes at the lot of them.

Trowa slapped Quatre lightly in the shoulder. "You really think you can keep that bunch a secret?"

Quatre gnawed on a random fingernail and looked them over. "Maybe...maybe we can look into soundproofing the laundry room."

**********  
  


"...not that I'm worried, of course, but the last time I heard from him was when he made captain," Relena was saying. "We haven't heard a thing from him since, but I'm sure he's alright." Some minutes ago, the doorbell rang, but the two ladies in the parlour were still waiting for word on who their visitor was, and filled the gap with more conversation about the elder Peacecraft sibling.

"That was about the time when I heard from him last, too," Lucrezia agreed, "although...it hasn't been the best time for me to write letters lately..."

Relena looked instantly concerned at Noin's sad tone of voice. "Really? What happened?"

Noin flinched and swallowed, realizing she had said just a hair too much. She swiftly tried to think her way out of the corner she was in, but was mercifully saved any embarrassment by the parlour doors opening, revealing Heero, ready to make his announcement.

"Mr. Marlowe at the door, m'lady," he said.

Seeing an opportunity to retreat and reflect, Noin stood quickly. "If I'm getting in the way of scheduled company, I can step out for a minute."

"Oh no, it's just our family solicitor. Stay! It'll probably be a bit of boring legal business to do with father's estate, and then I can introduce you. He's ever so nice!"

"No, really," Noin insisted, "I'll just powder my nose and be right back, honestly." With Relena's eventual blessing, Noin left the parlour to maintain as low a profile as possible, and Relena asked Heero to kindly show Mr. Marlowe in. The butler disappeared momentarily, and on the way back to the parlour with the solicitor in tow, he managed to spot Treize peeking at them from around the corner, down the hall from the conservatory. Marlowe didn't seem to notice at all, and Heero decided to follow suit and ignore him just long enough to complete his immediate duty. He showed the strangely sombre gentleman into the parlour, reversed direction towards the front hall stairs, and ducked into a small niche in the wall to watch Treize's next move.

Within seconds, Noin came wandering past, and Heero quickly waved her over to the niche as well; confused, she obeyed and stood next to him, wordlessly agreeing to be silent when Heero raised a finger to his lips. Sure enough, Treize sailed over and stood just outside the parlour door, listening to the goings-on within. The voices of Relena and Mr. Marlowe carried just far enough for the Count alone to hear.

"Can I offer you a cup of tea, Mr. Marlowe? Or would you like to stay for dinner? Our chef's preparing roast duck, and there looks to be much more than enough to go around!"

Mr. Marlowe, in his darkest possible suit and tie, was hardly in an eating mood. His atttaché case dangled limply from his right hand, and his face was drawn. "No, thank you...I've actually came to talk to you about your brother."

"Oh, how lovely!" Relena cheered. "I was just chatting with a good friend of his and we..." The girl trailed off as she noticed that her guest was a little bit off himself. The look in his eyes, crushed under a tremendous burden, chilled her straight to the core, and she found herself struggling to inhale. "What?"

Marlowe hesitated for as long as he could stand to. "It's.....it's bad news, I'm afraid." He waited hopefully for Relena to insist that she didn't want to hear any bad news that day, but underneath, he knew it was futile. "Something was hand-delivered to my office today," he said grimly as he set his attaché case on the coffee table, opened it, and took out a single piece of paper, shielding it from Relena's eyes until he felt sure she was ready to see it. "The courier said...that a senior officer would be sent 'round to speak with you...but I thought it better if you heard this from someone closer to the family."

Relena's eyes grew incrementally in mounting fear. "Hear what? A senior officer from where??"

Marlowe kept the piece of paper lowered, but walked up to the trembling girl and placed his other hand on her shoulder. "M'lady.....Relena...there was a fierce battle in South Africa a few days ago, near a place called Boschbult. Both sides took heavy casualties..."

Tears instantly clouded Relena's eyes, and she shook her head weakly. "N-no..."

"Milliardo went missing behind enemy lines. It was too dangerous to risk sending a rescue party, and a fortnight's gone by since, and...and the army felt strongly that the odds of his survival were..."

Without waiting for him to finish his morbid phrase, Relena snatched the paper out of his hand and read it. It was a death certificate, verified in the field by a Dr. A. Doyle, telegraphed to England, and authenticated by the signatures of two high-ranking officers residing in London, enough for the late captain's name to be added to the national casualty list. Milliardo Peacecraft, faithful servant in His Majesty's army...missing, presumed dead. Relena fell against Marlowe and sobbed, crumpling the paper between them.

Outside in the hall, Treize smiled to himself. From their vantage point around the corner, Heero and Noin watched in confusion. They had heard a high, sharp sound very much like a young woman crying, but they had no idea what she was crying about, or why something so sad would make her uncle smile. After counting off a few seconds and re-forming his face into a mask of chagrin, Treize burst through the double doors and pulled them shut. Heero and Noin quickly skittered over to take his place, listening carefully as the tragic scene was played out behind an inch and a half of carved wood.

"Relena, darling!" Treize exclaimed. "Whatever's the matter?"

Ear pressed to the door, the knot in Noin's stomach grew tighter as the dreadful silence grew longer. Finally, she heard the tiny, birdlike sound of Relena choking out the terrible news. "...my brother.......he's dead."

Noin recoiled from the door and scooted backwards with one hand over her mouth and the other grabbing her stomach, until she bumped up against the opposite wall. Grief-stricken, she doubled over into a crouch with both hands flying up to cover her face as she struggled not to cry out and alert those inside to their presence. Heero left the door also and followed, drawing on some sort of recently-awakened instincts to put a hand on her back. "...I'm sorry."

She nodded, then tucked herself up a little tighter on the floor, lowering her hands so she could clutch her own shoulders in a white-knuckled grip. Displaying a rare amount of human concern, probably something that he learned from Duo, Heero slowly dropped to one knee and put an arm around the pitiful woman. Though she wasn't audibly weeping like Relena, the loss of her beloved hit her like a freight train, and it was a long time before she could stand up again...but she did stand, by her own effort.

"He warned me that this might happen one day," she said softly, staring at the closed parlour doors. "I've tried to prepare myself for it..." Now was a time to be strong for Relena's sake. She corralled her hair back into place, smoothed out her dress, and opened the door for herself.

Two heads turned to look at the steel-faced woman. The third belonged to Relena, and was firmly buried in the front of her uncle's shirt as she wept. Treize squinted at Noin for a moment, but didn't recognize her, and simply assumed that she was one of his niece's shallow, simpering little friends from around town. He let go of Relena, who turned and soon fled into Noin's arms; the taller woman deliberately avoided Treize's eyes, remembering the many warnings about the man's devious nature. She just stroked the top of Relena's head in a motherly way and whispered, "I know.....I know."

Having given his niece sufficient false comfort for one afternoon, Treize turned his attention to Heero, who stood just outside the open door and was only visible from the Count's perspective. Heero glared his most vicious glare ever, for somehow he knew. _You did this,_ he thought menacingly in Treize's direction.

Heero's conclusion must have shown on his face, because one of the Count's forked eyebrows leapt gleefully upwards and seemed to say, 'So?' Taking the final blow for himself, he strode to the double doors and took one in each hand, a testament to his massive frame. "If you don't mind, this is a private family matter," he huffed before shutting them in Heero's face.

There was really nothing Heero could have accomplished there anyway; as far as he was concerned, the damage was done. Otto and Dorothy needed to be told, while the news was still fresh, so he went to find them both and deliver Marlowe's fatal message, thus saving anyone else the trouble. Soon after that duty was completed, he saw Quatre literally appear out of nowhere and bolt into the parlour, then heard him joining in the effort to console Relena. For just a second, Heero thought that was strange, because he was quite sure no one had left the parlour to tell Quatre what had happened, but he couldn't muster the brainpower to figure out how the gardener knew. It had been a most taxing afternoon.

A chilly, uncomfortable feeling kept Heero in the vicinity of the parlour for a long time, instead of letting him flee to the kitchen, where his conscious mind knew he'd rather be. He spent nearly an hour dusting anything and everything capable of collecting dust in the front hall, and after a while, Relena came out of the parlour, head held high, finally ready to accept the awful truth that she was the last remaining Peacecraft at Bridlewood. Her entourage, having done all they could for her, left her alone as she walked towards the massive staircase on her way to her room. She stopped at the foot of the stairs and turned slightly, realizing that she was alone in the foyer with Heero, who had slowed his dusting on the other side of the room and was watching her as casually as he could.

She looked at him quietly. For once, Heero had no idea what she was thinking, because her face was totally blank. She twisted a small section of her powder pink skirt in both hands as she stared at him, trying to find the spark of affection still locked in the back of her head; it could have been a symptom of shock, but she felt nothing, not even fear that she might never feel anything again. Restoring what she could of her dignifed airs, she let go of her dress and straightened up, tall and proud. "I was expecting a gentleman by the name of Marcus Wyndham this evening. When he arrives, please show him into the drawing room, and then inform me right away."

Numbly, Heero nodded, and watched her sail up the stairs and disappear across the landing, only thinking of what a perfect opportunity it would be to give Marcus back his misplaced engagement ring. Somehow, seeing that she was at least able to conduct her daily business without bursting into tears quelled the chilly feeling that kept Heero in the front hall, and he went straight to the kitchen to spread the news to the rest of the staff.

**********  
  


After what would normally have been dinnertime, Duo and Heero had the kitchen to themselves. It was unusual, for that time of day; generally, the whole kitchen area was abuzz from five to seven, either with servants rushing about to fulfill the needs of the family, or settling down to eat their own dinner, but neither the family nor the staff had much of an appetite...except for Quatre, it seemed. Out of the four small ducks that Duo had prepared for dinner, Quatre took three and smuggled them straight into his and Trowa's room, saying offhandedly that there was a good reason for needing so much food, but that it wasn't the proper time to discuss it, considering the problems of others ahead of his own.

That left Duo and Heero, and one duck, huddled around a small side table in the kitchen, away from the cooler space around the windows and closer to the heated interior of the house. They had a quiet dinner during which Heero wasn't very talkative, as his mind swirled with a squawking flock of speculations that were pecking at him and demanding resolution, though all he really wanted to do was put the problems of the household out of his thoughts for the night.

Duo leaned back and looked out the window. The days were getting noticeably longer, and the sun was just leaving the sky, casting a pretty scarlet glow over parts of the kitchen. "Wow...six-thirty, and the birds are still chirping. I can't wait for summer. I wanna be able to go lie around in the hedge maze 'till nine, and take my time coming back. I don't think it's so much about being outside at night while it's still light out, it's more the novelty of having someplace to go afterwards that's got a roof over it." Heero didn't respond, staring down at the remnants of his roast duck and nudging the bits around on the plate with his fork. Duo's attempt to lighten the mood had failed miserably. "You feel like a heel, don't you?"

Heero looked up. "A what?"

"...I mean, you feel rotten that you couldn't do anything to help Relena this time. Don't get me wrong, I'm not currently that pleased with her, on the whole, but nobody deserves that."

Heero stared at the table and shook his head, zombie-like. "I didn't understand what bothered me until I had a chance to sit back and think about it. No matter what you or I think of her personally, I swore to protect her, and I couldn't. Nothing I could have done would have protected her from something like this. I suppose I shouldn't have made a promise I had no way of keeping."

"Aw, c'mon, you didn't know," Duo tried to reassure him. "If you really think Treize had something to do with this, it just proves that he's way too slick for us, and we oughta just cut our losses and stay out of his way. It's not like you have to send back reconnaissance anymore, and I can't believe he'd actually do anything to Relena herself...and then there's the other side of it, the possibility that her brother really _was_ a casualty of war, and Treize had nothing to do with it."

"Something's still bothering me about the way Captain Peacecraft's death was announced," Heero mused, folding his arms thoughtfully. "I spoke to Marlowe and got a good look at the death certificate. He said it was delivered to his office long before the army was supposed to send an officer here to talk to Relena personally. It just seems...backwards to me."

Duo shrugged. "Maybe that's just the way the military operates."

"Even so, why would the death certificate be sent to the family solicitor? Marlowe has no connection whatsoever to the military, and he told me himself that Captain Peacecraft never arranged his own will."

They thought it over, staring at the same spot on the table, occupied by a tiny glass vase with a flower in it. "Unless he needed to know because of something to do with _Lord_ Peacecraft's will," Duo suggested. "If you think about it, he probably left at least something to his son, and if Relena's next in line, Marlowe needs proof that his son is dead."

Heero's eyes tensed up, and he looked to the side with an awful thought that he regretted having immediately. "_If_ she's next in line..." Duo looked up and met his eyes with horror, and he continued the thought. "She's under-aged. She might not be _able_ to inherit anything until she's eighteen..."

"...in which case the estate might revert to the next closest blood relative..."

"...and if that's Treize, I'm going to be _extremely_ angry at myself for not figuring it out sooner," Heero finished with a self-depreciating scowl. "If I hadn't been struggling so much against Jeffrhyss lately, I might have realized what he was up to long before now."

Duo leaned both elbows on the table and ran his hands through his bangs, sighing. He was beginning to see that once Heero made a promise, he couldn't be persuaded by anyone to walk away from it. In a way, that was a good trait to have, but it also meant that he'd be tied to Relena's proverbial apron strings for all eternity, Jeffrhyss or no Jeffrhyss. "So...what do you wanna do about this?"

To the chef's surprise, Heero sulked and looked very weary of the whole issue. "I can't think about that now.....I'll think about it tomorrow." He set his fork down and honestly asked himself what he would rather think about, and got a lightning-fast answer. "Do you have any family that you know of?"

Duo's surprise meter went off the scale. "Well...no, not really. I mean, I keep showing up at Victoria Station once a year thinking I might see Mom and Dad, but I've pretty much given up on ever seeing them again. Why?"

Heero shrugged. "I was just thinking that I could be making more of an effort to get to know you, that's all."

Duo smiled, not even bothering to detect Sally's influence all over Heero's new interest. "No kidding? Wow...I didn't think you were into that kind of thing. Gee, I finally get you in a mood to talk about something other than karate and spy games, and I've got nothing to give you!" He gnawed on his lower lip and searched his memory for something of the family persuasion to offer his friend. "I could tell you about the orphanage, if that wouldn't bore you to pieces."

Heero's eyes brightened, and he leaned forward, nodding. "Go ahead."

Somewhere between worrying about the house and worrying about Quatre and worrying about Relena, the pair of them found a dream springing to life in the dankest corner of the poorly-lit kitchen. Heero had so exhausted himself on teaching Duo to read and write, improving his math and demonstrating how to deflect a roundhouse kick to the back of the head without getting a scratch, that he was finally ready to listen. For the rest of the night, he absorbed countless stories from Duo's younger days that brought them closer together than mere booklearning ever could. Sally was right--unimportant details _did_ have value.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Forty-Four: Duo and Heero get a late-coming smack in the face from Quatre for not paying enough attention to the goings-on in the household, but even then, Quatre's problems can't command Heero's full attention. The butler becomes obsessed with a strange feeling about Milliardo's death certificate, and won't rest until he finds the cause._

The extraordinarily alert among you may have seen a continuity error in this episode. If you didn't see it, I won't tell you what it is because...it's **not** a continuity error. =^_~= All will be revealed in the fullness of time...or at least some of it will be revealed on *looks at calendar* April 20th. Bai-bai!


	44. Flowers of the Desert

Yes, Dreamwater is having fatal errors _again_, so we'll just hang out at FFN until the digital weather clears up over there, kay? =^_^=

**Disclaimer:** In a town called Perfect where there's a Walgreen's on every street corner, every author and authoress has their own set of Gundam pilots to love and to squeeze and to show off to all their friends. But we don't live anywhere near Perfect. *realizes she just ripped off a commercial to explain that she's not ripping off a tv show* Dangit.

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Forty-Four: Flowers of the Desert

_"When we remember we are all mad, the mysteries of life disappear and life stands explained." ~Mark Twain _

April 20th, 1902

Duo couldn't remember being in such a bad mood for a long, long time. Crawling around on the kitchen floor with a meat cleaver would have put anybody in a bad mood, but the chef was consumed with a searing hellfire the likes of which that humble kitchen had never seen. "Come on out, you thieving vermin!" he grumbled as he prowled the stone-tiled floor under the kitchen table. "I know you're here somewhere, and when I find you, you'll be lucky if I don't swing you around by the tails and toss you out the window one by one!"

Oblivious to the thick black storm clouds encircling the kitchen, Heero wandered down the stairs with an open book in his hands, poring over the contents and totally ignoring his surroundings except those key components necessary for navigating without tripping over anything. Here were two individuals that had been totally engrossed with their own problems for the last week, so much so that they had no concept of how much they were missing a few rooms away.

"You think you're so smart!" Duo snarled at nobody in particular as Heero walked past the table.

"Mm-hm," the butler replied dully, walking straight past to the stove.

Duo stopped what he was doing and poked his head above the tabletop. "What?"

This in turn made Heero pause and look at Duo, puzzled. He shrugged, poured himself a coffee, and went back to his reading. Duo shook his head and ducked back down beneath the table, having no patience for distractions.

Before long, Hilde came downstairs with a basket of towels and frowned at the self-absorbed pair. "Oh, look, if it isn't the zombie twins. How long are you two going to ignore the world outside the kitchen and the library? There _are_ important things going on in the rest of the house, you know!"

Duo hauled himself to his feet and slapped the meat cleaver on the table, grumbling. "I am _trying_ to figure out where all the _food_ is going around here! Yesterday, I had a big salad sitting out on the counter, I took a quick trip outside to borrow some hothouse tomatoes from Arthur, came back, and the bowl was empty! Day before yesterday, I made a big batch of lamb sausage rolls for dinner, turned my back for ten seconds while I got some rosemary from the pantry, and when I looked again, half of them were gone! And today, _today_...I spent a whole hour making a chocolate raspberry trifle that I was _really_ looking forward to trying a piece of, went to get the good plates out of the china cabinet, and the whole thing disappeared! We've got mice!"

Hilde balanced the basket on one hip and put on her holier-than-thou face. "Duo, that's impossible. It's a question of weight ratios! A two-ounce mouse could not carry a five-pound trifle!"

"Maybe not, but if a whole bunch of them got together, they could!"

"You're deranged, you know that? There are _no_ mice stealing your food!"

Hilde seemed so confident about that statement that Duo narrowed his eyes at her, asking himself why. "How do _you_ know?" Hilde froze, looking the way she always did when she was hiding a guilty secret. Duo grabbed her by the arm. "You _do_ know something, don't you!?"

"I don't know anything! I'm a total dunce! Leggo!" The girl broke free and squeaked out the door to the laundry room with her basket, which only further convinced Duo that something fishy was going on, but also that she obviously wasn't going to be one bit of help. He turned around to ask Heero's opinion, but he didn't look as if he'd heard a single word they spoke.

Duo walked up to him and looked him over; he was leaning against the pots-and-pans cupboard next to the stove with his ankles crossed languidly, sipping the coffee he poured for himself while he stared down at the law book he carried. While Duo had been obsessed with vanishing vittles over the past week, Heero could think of nothing except cramming for imaginary term finals in beneficiary and inheritance law. The finer points regarding trustees, executors, probates, guardians, excises, notarial wills, holograph wills and everything in between so consumed the boy's senses that the entire exchange about mice and trifle had gone unnoticed.

"Are you gonna help me look for these mice, or are you gonna stand there until termites eat the cabinet out from under you?"

Heero finished off a paragraph on consanguinity before looking up. "What mice?"

Duo gawked. "You haven't been listening again! Food's been disappearing, and I think we've got mice!"

"A few misplaced meals is insufficient evidence to suspect mice," Heero stated, looking back down at the book. "If we had an infestation of something that size, you'd know it."

"C'mon, I _need_ you to take this seriously!" Duo begged, tugging on the other boy's sleeve. "I am the one and _only_ Mouse of Bridlewood, and I will _not_ have a pack of miniscule upstarts trying to rob me of my crown!"

Heero slapped the book shut and looked sharply at his companion. "Has it occurred to you even once that there might be more important things? I'm busy trying to learn all I can about British law regarding estate management before I meet with Marlowe this afternoon," he said, smacking the book with the back of his hand.

Duo was heavy-lidded and unimpressed. "Oooh, spending your day off in a lawyer's office? You rebel." He took a step closer and noticed several short dark hairs decorating the lapels and shoulders of Heero's suit. "I think you might be stressing yourself out a little _too_ much over Lord Peacecraft's will, know what I mean?" he remarked, brushing the hairs off.

Heero glared, but in an amused sort of way. "Your cat did that."

"I notice she's only _my_ cat when she needs brushing, or when her sandbox needs cleaning out," Duo whined. "And quit trying to change the subject! I'm not just mad about the mice, I'm mad at you for tying up your afternoon without even talking to me first! You don't get that many days off anymore, and I was just...sorta hoping...we could do something together today. Outside. Because it's nice out."

The glare softened, and Heero genuinely thought about it as he wandered over to the pantry in search of a snack. "Come with me to see Marlowe, then...we can find something to do on our way back. Make dinner ahead of time and leave Hilde in charge, then we'll be able to stay out as late as we want."

Duo smiled at last. Heero could have some really good ideas when he tried hard enough, and now Duo couldn't wait to see what kind of ideas he had once they left Marlowe's office. He followed him as far as the pantry doorway and watched him search several tins in vain, as all the muffins and tea biscuits had long ago fallen prey to the mysterious mice. While they puzzled lightly over the sudden food shortage, Trowa came in from the back garden, also looking for something to eat.

"Don't mind me," the cinnamon-haired boy said, bypassing the pantry altogether, where most of the baked goods were usually kept, as per Duo's instruction. Instead, he went rifling through the breadbox and cookie tins on the china cabinet, which were purely for decoration and almost never contained anything edible.

Duo squinted at him and folded his arms. "Yo, Tro...we don't keep food in those. You should know that by now."

"Yeah, but the tins in the pantry are all empty."

The squint sharpened, burning a little hole into the back of Trowa's head as Duo's suspicions jumped up and down like they were wearing springs on their feet. "I haven't seen you in here all day. How did you know the tins were empty?"

Trowa froze, swallowed, and straightened up, shutting the breadbox with extreme delicacy. He turned around and tried to put on an innocent face, but it wasn't nearly enough. "Um..."

"You know something too!" Duo hollered. "What's going _on_ around here!?"

Trowa's hands flew up in self-defence. "I don't know anything, I didn't _see_ anything, and I haven't eaten one morsel that I wasn't _specifically invited_ to eat! I gotta go..." He fled for the back door and wouldn't say another word about it.

Now Duo was sure something was afoot. "You see that?" he said, turning to the pantry and pointing at the back door. "He knows what's going on, _Hilde_ knows what's going on, but d'you think they'd tell me? Heck no, I'm only the cook! Why should I be aware of the tidal flow of food in and out of my territory? I can't think of a reason, can you!?" It didn't take him long to realize that Heero still wasn't listening. Duo frowned. _Man, that's infuriating! I'm having a crisis here! Can't you muster up just a little understanding!?_

Duo stomped towards the pantry with an unspecified intent of inflicting pain on Heero's person, at the same instant that Heero gave up on finding anything edible in the pantry and started to walk out, causing a near-collision in the doorway; what happened next seemed to occur in slow motion from Duo's perspective. A split second before what would have been the moment of impact, both boys twisted clockwise and scooted through the doorway with less than an inch between them, without even thinking. Their eyes met, and a jolt of electricity seemed to jab Duo in the chest. He followed Heero's eyes all the way out of the pantry, staggering backwards when the arc of voltage was broken as they moved apart. Heero looked unaffected by the close encounter, but Duo was so suddenly and thoroughly intoxicated that he could no longer remember what he was supposed to be upset about.

"Uh...what was I saying?" he asked with just a hint of a drunken smile.

Heero thought back, found several blank pockets in his short-term memory, and gave it his best approximation to fill them. "Something about feeding the mice," he guessed before heading back up the stairs.

"Yeah...gotta feed those mice..." Duo leaned back against the pantry shelves with one hand on his heart and the other on his stomach, listening to his own elevated heartbeat. Since the two of them started seriously conversing on a deeply personal level, that sort of thing had been happening to Duo a lot more often, and he liked it. The electric flashes that struck him when Heero was very near had a pleasing effect more powerful than alcohol and chocolate combined.

All that was left in Duo's mind was the anticipation of spending the afternoon away from the house, and he hurriedly began preparing a dinner he could leave completely in Hilde's capable hands. The mystery of the hour vanished from his mind as easily as the trifle had disappeared from the kitchen table.

**********  
  


Out in the backyard, killing time before lunch, when he would have to think up some more comforting things to say to his dear Lady, Otto stood solemnly with his hands behind his back, asking himself if he could have done anything more to protect Relena from the inevitable. He was quite used to playing the part of her guardian, a role which had been only half-heartedly passed onto Treize upon his arrival, but no amount of mental preparation made it any easier dealing with the girl in her time of mourning. The possibility that Milliardo would never return from Africa had always been in the back of their minds, Otto's more than hers, but there was a constant, lingering hope that they would never have to deal with the reality--a hope that was long dead.

_If only she had more people around her who cared for her as much as I do,_ the great bear of a man thought with a sigh. _Her uncle only seems to be helpful when it suits him, and that blasted boy, disappointing her with that failed engagement...and he's hardly offered two words of sympathy to the poor girl since! We should never have allowed him into this house..._

"Otto! Are you paying attention?" A few yards away, the other mischief-maker of the household was tapping her foot impatiently. "I need your brain to be here, along with the rest of you! This is very important!"

Otto looked at Dorothy with disdain. She hadn't been enough of a friend to Relena lately, in his opinion, and here she was, decked out in a new spring dress and carrying her layabout cat all over the grounds. "Miss Relena won't say what she thinks about your lack of consideration, but I will. I think it's appalling that you can't spend more time with her in one of her darkest moments."

Dorothy looked offended that anyone would question her thoughts and deeds, especially the staff, and flicked a lock of hair over her shoulder at him. "I _am_ sorry that her brother's gone, but all the weeping and wailing in the world isn't going to bring him back. We all need to turn our eyes toward the future now, and the immediate reality is such that Anna Maria needs her exercise after being cooped up all winter. All I'm asking you to do is look out over the back gardens, and if you see any stray cats, I want you to shoo them away. That's all! Once Anna Maria's had a nice walk in the fresh air, _then_ I'll go and tend to her Ladyship...although I really do think she's old enough now to take care of these things on her own." She walked out onto the lawn, just off the back terrace a few paces, and held her fluffy white charge up in front of her. "Mind you, if she needs someone to arrange the flowers at his memorial service, I'll do it _far_ cheaper than anyone will in town!"

Otto sighed again, a little deeper this time.

"I'm getting ready to put her down now. Are you watching?"

"...yes, I'm watching."

"Good." Dorothy placed Anna Maria gingerly down on her paws in the grass and stepped back. "Go on, sweetie. Mummy's right here..." The cat wandered around the grounds at will, ignoring her mistress shouting at the big bear to watch out for other cats, and had a lovely little adventure, chewing on weeds and chasing insects. After a while, a pleasing scent tickled her feline nose, and she followed it. It was a blend of floral aromas, like the kind she often smelled on her mistress, which was why she liked it so much, and wanted to see where it was coming from. She padded in a circle that led back to the house, to the left-hand side of the building, facing the gardens, and stopped at a window a good distance from the kitchen. Dorothy saw her pause and became just a little curious.

"Anna Maria? What have you found, darling?" She came up behind her cat, who was now sniffing and pawing energetically at the basement window, through which one could ordinarily peer down at the sunken cellar rooms. This window, however, had a closed curtain blocking the view, and was roughly in the same place as Quatre's bedchamber, Dorothy calculated. The scent wafting out through the gaps around the glass was a delicate, flowery perfume. Dorothy thought about that for a long time, but threw out every speculation she had to explain it, because she just plain didn't like any of them.

The Baroness studied the tiny gap in the curtains, and was suddenly rewarded with a colourful blur shooting past the window. Dorothy sat back on her heels and shook her head, then looked through the gap some more. Another blur went by, in much different colours than the first. Within a minute, a third distinct blur caught her eye. Many possibilities were tossed around Dorothy's head, but the simplest one that fit the evidence was that there were people in Quatre's room...new people that Dorothy had no knowledge of. This made her tremendously curious.

"Miss Dorothy? Is something the matter?" Otto was walking towards her. She had to think fast.

Scooping up her kitty, Dorothy whirled around and presented the house steward with a sweet smile. "No, no, everything's fine. Anna Maria found a grasshopper and she was playing with it, but it got away." She lifted the ball of fur high in the air and nuzzled her nose lovingly. "Anyway, I think that's enough exercise for now...we don't want you getting overtired, do we, Angelpuss?"

"Hm. Very well." Otto went back inside, trotting down the steps to the kitchen through the servants' entrance, just as happy to put some distance between himself and the conceited girl.

Dorothy preferred walking up the small concrete steps to the more formal entrance, leading up to the main level, but she couldn't get her mind off the cellar bedroom, where there was obviously something strange going on. _I'll find out what it is, too. If it has anything to do with Quatre and his millions, I'll definitely find out._

**********  
  


Mr. Marlowe welcomed the boys into his upscale offices that afternoon, and before they even sat down, they were stuck thickly into a discussion about Lord Peacecraft's will, most of which went straight over Duo's head until they got to the juicy bits.

"Given Her Ladyship's emotional state, delaying the proceedings as much as possible would be in everyone's best interest," Marlowe said in his clipped English accent as he slid behind his desk and pointed the lads to a chair apiece. "Unfortunately, news of young Milliardo's death changes the situation somewhat."

"How exactly?" Heero asked.

Marlowe opened a cabinet to his right and extracted a file stuffed with a good half-inch's worth of papers, splaying it open on the desk. "His Lordship added a stipulation to his will that if Relena was less than eighteen years of age at the time of his death, the will could not be read without her brother present. I wasn't told the exact reason for this, but I got the impression that His Lordship felt it was necessary after a long series of communiqués with Count Khushrenada."

Duo and Heero glanced sideways at each other, after which the latter leaned forward. "Did the Count know about this clause at the time it was written?"

"I've no idea one way or the other, but it's certainly possible," Marlowe said. "He most definitely knows now, because I was duty-bound to inform him. In the absence of the brother, the next closest adult blood relative would have to sit in on the reading, and it seems that would be the Count himself...especially in light of other events..."

"You wouldn't be holding out on us, would you?" Duo prodded.

Marlowe scrunched up his face in thought as he pulled a few telegrams from the middle of the file. "Well...I wouldn't ordinarily discuss matters such as these with the house staff, if you'll pardon me for saying so, but it does seem rather odd in the light of day...perhaps you can think of something I haven't.

"A few months ago, the Count wouldn't have been the closest blood relative within reasonable travelling distance of London. Lord Peacecraft had an aunt living in Middlesborough, and after his death, I was preparing to contact her if she was needed, but then I received the most peculiar message from the local authorities. It seems the poor woman was alone in her two-storey house and had a nasty spill down the stairs. Apparently she died instantly of a broken neck." If Marlowe saw the boys throwing an extended glare at each other, he didn't let on. "Since Relena never knew the woman, and since there were ample friends in Middlesborough to attend her funeral, I didn't think it prudent to bother the poor girl with more unhappy news, not so soon after her own loss." Marlowe handed the pertinent telegram to Heero, then raised both eyebrows at another telegram just underneath. "If I'd known then who _else_ might have fallen into harm's way, perhaps I--"

"There's _more_?" Duo gasped.

Marlowe shrugged apologetically and passed the second telegram to Duo. "About two months later, word arrived about a cousin of His Lordship's, a titled gentleman living in Cornwall. Hunting accident, I was told. Shot in the back this past autumn. Died on the spot."

Heero shook his head at the paper he held. "This is unbelievable..."

"It seems that Count Khushrenada is now the next in line to authorize the reading of the will, as the only other candidates are living abroad and haven't the means to return," Marlowe explained. "The reading can now take place at any time, but for the sake of being genteel towards Her Ladyship, I've been looking for excuses to delay it."

"Who is _actually eligible_ to inherit the estate with the brother gone?" Heero asked, tossing the telegram back on the desk.

"Don't know, I'm afraid," Marlowe admitted with reluctance. "I've always been the executor, but His Lordship was terribly concerned with secrecy over the actual contents of his will. He hired six other individuals in this office and dictated that they help write a page each, and never reveal what their portions contained, not even to myself. Knowing how important it was to him that Bridlewood go to the _right_ people, well...I can't help but be concerned myself. That's why I'm trying to delay the reading."

Duo was only paying attention to words and papers, but Heero and Mr. Marlowe seemed to be suddenly communicating on a higher level, a silent one made up of heavy, knowing glances. They looked at each other with a growing intensity that made Duo a bit edgy; he had never seem Marlowe be anything but pleasant, yet he was matching Heero glare for glare. Tying up everything he had heard into a tidy package, Heero leaned forward, folding his hands on top of the desk. "You suspect him, don't you?"

Marlowe nodded with his eyebrows and nothing else, an unusual trick. "Categorically and thoroughly. The pity of it is, the police don't see it that way, even after I pleaded with them to investigate the two other deaths in the family. Lack of evidence."

Duo glanced right and left, puzzled until it dawned on him that they were speaking of Treize.

"I might have had slightly better luck," Heero said, talking a sealed envelope from his inside coat pocket and handing it to Marlowe. "This is all the evidence I've collected regarding Khushrenada's crimes against the Peacecraft family. As you've probably surmised by now, I was employed by an interested third party to infiltrate the household and catalogue his activities." It was near enough to the truth, for Heero's purposes.

Marlowe took the treasure and tore into it gratefully. "I had my suspicions, to be honest. Never thought you were the type to be a servant, although you did a cracking good job at it, from what I saw."

Duo smirked. "You haven't seen the streaks he leaves on the parlour windows." That earned him a raised eyebrow from his companion.

"Quite," Marlowe chuckled warmly, eager to break the spell of death and deceit they were all under. "Now, this evidence of yours...to which 'accidental' death does it pertain? The auntie in Middlesborough, or the cousin in Cornwall?"

Heero leaned back and slumped as the spell returned. "Neither."

The boys waited patiently for Marlowe to drop his cloudy confusion and read his way to a gruesome revelation. The first page the solicitor examined was a signed statement from a Dr. Poole, pinned to a sketchy and grossly inadequate medical report on Relena's ill-fated father. In a short time, his eyes widened and his jaw fell as he was bowled over by the gravity of Poole's findings. "...good Lord.....it's a good deal worse than I imagined."

Duo scratched the back of his head, a bit unsettled. "Yep...sucks rocks, doesn't it?"

"It...it's absolutely _scandalous_!" Marlowe exclaimed. "Just thinking that the dear girl's own uncle may be responsible for _three_ deaths directly in line for the Peacecraft fortune...have you shown any of this to the authorities?"

Heero shook his head sharply. "Everything we have is circumstantial, probably not even enough to make an arrest, and the needless shock to Her Ladyship would be irreparable...but it _does_ make one wonder about her brother."

That suggestion sent a chill down all their spines. Without hesitation, Marlowe extracted another file from the right-hand cabinet and took from it Captain Peacecraft's death certificate, giving it to Heero straight away. "You're welcome to have a look at anything in these two files, but I haven't very much information about the brother. I've asked the Ministry of Defence to speak to whatever army generals necessary to confirm or refute this document, but so far, nothing."

Heero studied the paper for a long time, but couldn't find anything immediately wrong with it, and set it back on the desk. He and Marlowe drifted into a stream of legal jargon that Duo had no desire to comprehend, and to pass the time while they spoke, he picked up the death certificate out of pure curiosity to see what one looked like. In less than a minute, he found several things wrong with it.

"Uh, 'scuse me, fellas, but if this guy got nailed in Africa, why was this form filled out and witnessed in England?"

Marlowe leaned towards the braided boy on his folded arms and tried not to sound condescending. "Under the circumstances of a war being fought in such a remote location, it's not strictly illegal, so long as the attending doctor provides his authenticating signature on his return to England. Until then, the signatures of two officers is sufficient to declare the Captain dead and proceed with the reading of his father's will. One could have sent the final document by post, but this is much quicker."

Duo stared, hoping to give the impression that he understood. "Uh huh...and this name typed out here," he said, pointing, "that's the army doctor on the scene who made the judgement call that the Captain wasn't going to make it out of wherever he was alive?"

"Yes, that's right."

Heero couldn't see why Duo suddenly looked so pleased with himself, as if he'd finally found a way to contribute to the conversation, and leaned over his shoulder to give the document a second glance. "What is it?"

"Okay, just...bear with me a minute here," Duo blurted, shifting around in his chair energetically. "Suppose the Count wanted to go whole hog and bump off his nephew. We pretty much know he's been in Europe during the whole war, so he would've had to send someone to Africa to take care of the job. Whack him in the head or whatever, get the death certificate, send it here, and nobody questions it. _Now_ suppose that whoever he sent..._couldn't_ get the job done. If we take it for granted that Treize isn't the sort of person you say, 'Oh, sorry, I goofed' to, the person would have to get a doctor's name from _somewhere_, just to fill the gap on the death certificate long enough to flee the country before his boss found out that the target got away." Heero silently nodded at the speculation; he could certainly relate to it. "So, this person might have just happened to pick a doc's name at random off whatever they could find...old duty rosters, whatever, right?" the cook proposed.

Marlowe looked blank. "I'm not sure where you're headed with this, honestly."

Ignoring the solicitor for the moment, Duo swivelled in his chair, held the paper up to Heero, and tapped the doctor's name with gusto. "C'mon, Heero, _think_! Where have you seen this name before?"

Heero looked at the name again: Dr. A Doyle. It held a vague familiarity now that he was reading it and looking at Duo in the same glance. "...in those magazines you found in the attic."

"Yes!" Duo cried, clenching his free hand in triumph. If Marlowe hadn't been there, he would have kissed Heero for renewing his faith in the butler's ability to pay attention to the small details of Duo's life. Instead, he settled for smacking the paper down in front of Marlowe. "_Arthur Conan_ Doyle! I've read almost everything he's ever written, including a piece he did just this year about the war itself! He was only in Africa for a few months, and then he came home and started writing again! He couldn't _possibly_ have put his name on that certificate!"

Marlowe's eyes widened. "Are you sure!?"

"_Extremely_ sure," Duo said solemnly. "Either someone picked that name out at random, or there's two Dr. Doyles in the army. I don't even know if he was high up enough to fill out forms for the military anyway, 'cause he was only a volunteer." Duo leaned back and buffed his nails on the lapel of his black frock coat and let his ego soak up the impressed waves of astonishment trickling around the room. "Yep, you sure are lucky I came along. You happen to be looking at one of the world's major aficionados of the life, works, and philosophies of Arthur Conan Doyle, and we pride ourselves in knowing more about the man than anyone else. In fact, if I ever find out what he eats for breakfast that makes him so smart, it's going on _our_ menu, permanently!" Duo looked around. The other two were still looking at him, but the admiration had faded. He sat up and stopped buffing. "I'm done now."

With a small but genuine smile, Heero reached over and gave Duo's hand a little squeeze, below the desk where Marlowe couldn't see. "Good work," he praised his assistant. Duo smiled back.

"If all this turns out to be exactly what happened," Marlowe continued excitedly, "then there's a faint chance Captain Peacecraft might still be alive! Of course, we shouldn't get Her Ladyship's hopes up..." He stood, signalling that time had run out on the interview, and the boys stood as well. "I have two more appointments before tea, and then I'll get straight on to a chap I know in the merchant marines. Maybe he'll know a way to bypass official channels and get some _real_ news from Africa."

"We'll make some inquiries on our own as well," Heero agreed. "Hopefully between the three of us, we can find out the truth."

Marlowe saw them to the door, then paused with one hand in his pocket and the look of someone hoping to negotiate a good deal on a pre-owned horse and cart. "Don't mind my asking," he ventured with a grin, "but this 'interested third party' of yours...I don't suppose you'd be forthcoming with the gentleman's _name_..."

Heero have him a genial stare for several seconds. "Thank you for finding the time to speak with us, Mr. Marlowe." He shook the man's hand and walked out. Duo followed with a shrug and a smile, mirrored by the thwarted solicitor. It was worth a shot.

**********  
  


To the surprise of some and the delight of many at Bridlewood, one person who seemed totally committed to making Relena feel good about life in general again was Marcus Wyndham. Since they day he learned of her brother's fate, the giddy young aristocrat made time to drop by and comfort her every single day, and Relena became increasingly glad to see him strolling up the front walk with his bunches of flowers and boxes of chocolates.

As a special treat, Arthur brought a large, heavy object out of storage and polished it to perfection, a porch swing that had needlessly fallen into disuse. He re-assembled it in the gazebo on the back lawn, which was at the exact midpoint between the house and the hedge maze, and it served as an ideal thinking spot for youngsters with a great deal to think about. That day, when Marcus arrived for tea, Relena asked him to stay for dinner, and afterwards they crept out to the gazebo together, to lounge around on the newly-revived porch swing and watch the sun set.

The poor little rich girl hadn't had much to smile about in recent days, and Marcus thought that was a crying shame. On a whim, he nudged her in the shoulder with one hand, while taking a half-crown coin from his pocket with his other hand. "Here...watch this." With an engaging smirk that expertly captured her dulled attention, he held up the coin, pressed it into his left palm, closed his fingers around it, then flashed his hand open. The coin was gone.

Relena smiled and almost giggled, but the boy wasn't through yet. "Hang on, what's that?" he asked, pointing to a lock of her hair that had somehow tied itself into a thick square knot. She gasped and wondered as he picked it up and grasped the golden ribbon on either side of the knot. "Hold out your hands," he instructed, and she did so. Marcus gave either end of the lock of hair a little tug, and the knot came undone, letting the coin of mystery fall down into her waiting hands.

Relena laughed at long last, quite amused with the trick. "That was wonderful! I had no idea you were as clever as all that!"

"Well, you looked like you could use a laugh," Marcus said gently in his musical Liverpool tones. "I make it a point to laugh every day, even if there's nothing to laugh at. We can cry as much as we want, but when we stop laughing, we're finished."

Relena hummed in agreement and turned the coin over in her hands. "I know I'll have to get on with my life sooner or later, but for some reason, I can't set my mind to the future as easily as I could before. My head used to be swimming with party plans and new gowns I was going to buy and soirées I was going to attend...but now...all that seems so unimportant. I can't decide what to do with myself from one day to the next, because it feels like everything I used to do, doesn't matter anymore." She stared down and sighed. "Sometimes I think your visits are the only reason I get up in the morning."

"There's nothing wrong with you, m'lady," Marcus said. "Maybe there was something wrong with all the things you used to do, but there's nothing the matter with your charming self. You're growing out of certain things, that's all. I used to shoot nuts at squirrels with a catapult when I was a lad, and I grew out of that, so there's hope for you yet!" He indulged in a long, full-body stretch and a yawn, which had the perfectly-planned effect on Relena, which was to make her yawn as well. Relaxation was a must. "You're becoming a different person because of this, but it's nothing to be afraid of, you know. It could result in an even better you than before, and you needn't worry about running this place on your own either, because I'd be more than happy to pop 'round and give you my unsolicited opinion." He finished his offering with a quick, light nuzzle to the side of her head, which made her smile even more.

"You're so sweet..."

"Mumsy always said I could give sweet lessons to the honey bees."

Relena giggled, finally reaching some sort of peace. The sun was setting before them, and the west-facing porch swing provided the ideal perch to watch the sky burn with every colour in nature as night descended upon London. The two youngsters sat there through the entire spectacle, and after a prolonged silence, Relena leaned to her left and rested her head on Marcus' shoulder, drenched in comfort. They stayed that way until the stars began peeking through the great blue bowl placed over the Earth, and then, went inside to say their goodnights.

**********  
  


There was plenty more sunshine to be had after leaving Marlowe's office, and the two boys soaked up as much of it as they could, lounging around on the banks of the River Thames. The whole world seemed to be out and about that day, enjoying their well-earned spring weather; Duo and Heero fit right in, looking like a dozen other pairs of lazy kids who were lolling about in the parklands, watching clouds, skipping stones, and rolling up their pant legs so they could dangle their feet in the water. They both agreed, this was the way life should always be.

It ended all too soon as the setting sun began chasing everyone back inside for a late dinner; nevertheless, the boys took their sweet time getting back to Bridlewood. Hoping that no one of great importance had noticed their absence, they crept in through the kitchen door, still basking in the glorious feeling of freedom they had shared. Their post-outing reverie was short-lived, however, as they saw Hilde was waiting for them, just inside the hall that led to Trowa and Quatre's room.

"Hi, guys," she said with shifty eyes and a tremor in her voice. Duo knew from experience that an intro like that couldn't precede anything but bad news. His face fell.

"Oh _no_. What went wrong? It was just a casserole! You can't _do_ anything to a casserole! What happened!?"

Hilde wildly waved off the idea with both hands. "No no no, _dinner_ was fine! It was absolutely perfect! We didn't miss you one bit!"

Duo glared.

"But...there _is_ a problem," the girl continued. "Well...not so much of a problem as just...something you need to know." She looked over her right shoulder, expecting to hand the conversation over to someone behind her, but the someone had fled in fear. After a little growl of frustration, she stomped away towards Trowa and Quatre's room, from which odd noises were heard shortly afterwards. The noises grew louder, and when Hilde returned, she had Trowa with her, and they were both holding Quatre a full two inches off the ground by an arm each, carrying him into the kitchen by force. The gardener's little legs were windmilling as he struggled and whimpered and pleaded with his friends to reconsider. Unmoved by his sad green eyes, they dumped him in front of Heero and poked him with their elbows a sufficient number of times to make him take a step forward under his own power.

Quatre glanced nervously around the room, deliberately avoiding the spot Heero was standing in, and looked back at Trowa and Hilde. "Do I have to?" he squeaked.

"_Yes_!" they bellowed in unison.

"We're sick and tired of lying for you!" said Hilde.

"And _stealing_ for you, too!" said Trowa.

Quatre sighed at Heero. "I was going to tell you eventually anyway, honest. I, uh...guess you'd better come take a look." He beckoned for him to follow, and Duo as well, and led all four of them back down the hall to his room, stopping just in front of the door. He opened it a crack, whispered to someone inside, gave one last pleading smile to Heero, and let them inside.

As the very befuddled butler stepped into the double bedroom, five young women in strange clothes scampered hurriedly about and arranged themselves into a tidy horizontal line, some holding colourful objects that required some explanation. A sixth woman, who appeared to be the oldest, remained where she was, leaning back against a chest of drawers, arms folded and face drawn. While the girls in the lineup giggled and primped and smiled at Heero, who was sharing a moment of pure speechlessness with Duo, Quatre stepped between them all and put on a showman's smile.

"Heero, these girls are all my sisters," he began, rubbing his hands together nervously as the butler's gaze darkened. "Now, I know what you're thinking--"

"No, I don't think you do," Heero interrupted in a low growl.

"Give them a chance, please!" Quatre begged. "They came here in peace, and they want nothing more than to make themselves useful!" He jogged over to the first girl in line, a brunette wearing an emerald green headscarf and a blue wrap-around dress, and pulled her forward, presenting her to Heero with both hands on her shoulders. She stood just half a head shorter than her brother. "This is Asalah. She's a seamstress, and she'd _love_ to help around the house with the mending, to earn her keep!"

Asalah smiled and stepped forward excitedly. She was holding a hand-embroidered sash of the finest red silk, which she had decorated herself with flowing geometric designs in brightly coloured threads. She quickly stretched both arms around Heero's waist and tied the sash securely around his middle, knotting it off to the side and delicately combing out the fringe with her fingers. "May the sun never cease to shine upon your children, and upon your children's children!" she sang before kissing his hand and stepping back in line. Heero was wide-eyed in shock. Duo was not amused.

Before either of them could utter a sound, Quatre brought another sister forward, identical to the first except for a golden yellow headscarf and a flowing red dress. "This is Nashida, Asalah's twin. She's a weaver! Just think, she could keep the manor well-stocked in baskets and rugs until it crumbles to dust at our feet!"

Nashida smiled, bowed deeply, and piled a fabulous hand-woven throw rug into Heero's arms. It had a picture of the sun setting behind a scene of tree-covered mountains woven right into it with soft yarns of sheeps' wool, and was edged with strands of gold. "May the rivers be full in every place you tread, from now until eternity!" she trilled before leaning forward, planting a kiss on his cheek, and skipping back to stand next to her twin. Duo was even less amused.

Heero rolled up the carpet and tried to catch Quatre's attention. "If I could just--"

"And this is Hessa," Quatre barrelled forth, presenting a humbly-dressed young woman wearing a variety of muted greens and browns, with platinum blonde hair like her brother's. "She taught me everything I know about gardening! If it weren't for her, I'd be out of a job!"

Heero shook his head briefly. "This really isn't--"

"Kind sir," Hessa said, beating him to it nicely, "please accept this small token and guard it well." She gave him a small clay pot packed with mossy soil, out of which was growing a dwarfish green plant with broad, oblong leaves, spiky yellowish sprigs, and a single white flower. "It's a cutting of Arabian Jasmine, from my own garden. I know you'll take excellent care of it, and in turn, it will blossom faithfully for the rest of your days." She helped him juggle the rug enough that he had a free hand to carry the plant, gave him a hug, and stepped back in line.

Now Heero's gifts were starting to block his field of vision. "Th-thank you, but--"

"Let me look at you!" the next girl in line shouted with concern. She had on a dark costume of the deepest midnight purple, short, flowing curls of dark tan hair held back by an embroidered headband and tied into a loose braid, and wore a different ring on each of her fingers. Heero had the best view of her rings, for she ran straight past Quatre, grabbed Heero by the face, and was peering deeply into his bewildered eyes. "Stress!" she shouted. "I see nothing but stress and discomfort in your life! You need to learn how to relax or you'll perish before your time!"

Heero tried to say something, but couldn't; the girl had his face in such a tight squeeze that he couldn't move his mouth.

"This is Kamal," Quatre interjected from the side. "She's very.....spiritual."

Kamal glanced over her shoulder. "Hessa? Chair!" Obeying her elder sibling, Hessa quickly ran behind Heero to the writing desk, yanked out the old armchair from in front of it, twirled it around and rammed it into the backs of Heero's knees just as Kamal let go of his face. He fell backwards into the chair, still clutching the plant and the rug, and soon Kamal was right behind him, massaging the two tense spots between his shoulders and neck. As she firmly kneaded the cloth and flesh between her strong fingers, she leaned down to whisper in his ear, "That's it, just let all those tensions melt away..."

The fifth and final girl in line bounced forward, oddly enough, covered by a dark gabardine coat. The pretty brunette, bubbliest of them all, bent down and put her face an inch away from Heero's. "You _do_ want us to stay now, don't you? Pleeeease? If you throw us out of the house now, you'll never know how _happy_ we could have made you..."

Right on cue, Hessa took out a skinny yet bulbous pipe-like object, sat cross-legged on the floor, lifted the instrument to her lips and began to play an exotic tune, sounding like a cross between a kazoo and a partially-strangled duck. The bubbly brunette stepped back and peeled off her coat, revealing a shapely figure wrapped tightly in a shiny costume of blue and scarlet, decorated all over with little gold charms and accentuated by dozens of bracelets and other assorted pieces of jewellery. To Heero's shock and Duo's horror, she began to dance in wiggling, slithering motions, flinging her hips about and clinging her little finger cymbals while Asalah and Nashida clapped in time with the music. Heero tried very hard to look away, but couldn't stop himself from peeking at the gaudy display out of the corner of his eye as he squirmed. It was strangely hypnotic, like watching a train wreck in slow motion. Duo, for his part, was so far from amused that he was starting to forget what amused felt like.

The sixth woman, still leaning against the dresser, had just about had enough, and marched straight up to the dancer just as she was displaying a scandalous amount of leg, and tugged sharply on her ear. "Adeela, put that away," she groaned. Adeela stopped dancing, and with her stopped also the music and the clapping. She slouched and toddled off to the side at her older sister's command, but not without sticking her tongue out at her first. Once the room was quiet again, Heero's rescuer stood in front of his chair, looking down, and extended a hand. "Yasmeen."

The boy took her hand, frightened of what might have happened if he refused it. "Heero."

"I'm a mathematician, and I don't believe in bribery, so from me you get nothing."

Heero blinked. "I respect that."

"You must forgive my siblings, _especially_ my brother," Yasmeen said in a low, sultry voice. "We came here only a week ago, and he graciously took us in, but on the condition that we meet with the approval of the one in charge of this house. When he described you to us as being ultimately the one who must decide whether we stay or go, my sisters couldn't wait to abase themselves by fawning over you in an attempt to win your favour."

"Whoa, whoa, _hold_ on a minute..." Duo stepped up beside Heero's chair, unable to contain the blizzard of odd feelings about the whole matter. "Why is he the one who gets to decide? He hasn't been inconvenienced by you people one bit! It's pretty obvious now where all the food's been going, and I was having a nervous breakdown all week thinking we had mice! _I'm_ the one who's been doing all the suffering, but Heero gets showered with presents and I get nothing!?"

Quatre gave him a pitiful frown of sympathy. "Ohhh, I'm sorry, Duo! I didn't realize it would upset you this much, and nobody gave you anything either..." Thinking quickly, he went to his bedside table, opened the drawer, and took something long and skinny out, with pink, yellow and green spiral stripes. He held it out to Duo with a smile. "Here's a tutti frutti candy stick I was saving for later, would you like to have it?"

Duo stared at the pretty stripes, then acted very begrudged as he swiped the candy out of the gardener's hands. "Alright, I'll take your candy...but only to ease your guilty conscience," he said, just beginning to drool, "and not because I really..._really_ love tutti frutti candy sticks..." He went off to a corner, happy as a clam, and unwrapped his treasure, slucking off the stripes almost immediately.

"As...I was saying," Yasmeen went on, "we will try to earn your trust honestly from now on, because the alternative is unthinkable. We fled our homeland to escape the horrors of a family at war with itself, and we only ask for a place to hide, and if necessary, to defend." Yasmeen turned slightly at the waist and looked each of her sisters in the eye. "And while we are here, we will _not_ make excessive noise, we will _not_ eat more than our deeds are worth, and we most _definitely_ will not drench this room in rose water so much that those to whom the room belongs cannot sleep!"

".....thank you," Trowa said meekly from the back.

Quatre knelt down beside Heero's chair and put both hands on his right arm with a hopeful smile. "Well? What do you think? Can they stay? Just for a little while, at least?"

Heero was paralyzed. Nine pairs of eyes were firmly fixed on him; the tenth pair was too busy looking at the fading stripes on the candy stick, but Duo seemed content enough with the situation now. He just hated being left out of anything. Heero sensed Quatre was getting impatient. "Who else knows?"

"Just Arthur and Wufei, nobody else, I swear."

".....hn..." The ticking of the kitchen clock two rooms away filled the entire space around them as the butler deliberated, looking from face to face and feeling his steely resolve melt like so much chocolate left out in the sun. Heero sighed. "They can stay."

The five younger sisters all fell at his feet, uttering high-pitched prayers of thanks and pressing his hands to their faces. Three of them were actually weeping for joy. Trying very hard to be a gentleman under such bizarre circumstances, Heero carefully wrenched himself out of their grasp, and out of the armchair, grabbing Duo by the braid and retreating out the hall to the kitchen. Once safe, he leaned against the nearest wall and banged his head on it lightly, still carrying the treasures bestowed upon him a few minutes earlier. Duo was only half-way through his own sugary treasure, and gave Heero a silent pat on the back for being such a good sport.

A moment later, Quatre tip-toed out the hall and regrouped with Heero, mostly to see how angry he was. "Are you sure you're okay with this?" he asked timidly.

"They seem to have made themselves at home already...how can I _not_ be okay with it?" The deathglare was in Heero's voice instead of painted on his face; Quatre knew he wasn't out of the woods just yet.

"I know, I'm sorry...Trowa and I demanded total honesty from you two, and then I turn right around and start keeping all these secrets...but you have to understand, they just appeared out of nowhere! I had no idea they were even in England! ...I was going to ask you if they could stay the very same day they arrived, but then we found out about Miss Relena's brother, and...it just seemed like a bad time, and it stayed a bad time all week. See what I mean?"

Heero looked Quatre straight in the eye, dead serious. "Relena's importance is secondary. The real issue is whether or not you realized the kind of security risk you were setting yourself up for when you let them in. Any one of them could secretly be an assassin, or perhaps they _all_--"

"I know what I'm doing!" Quatre shouted, balling his fists momentarily before calming himself. "I can't explain how I know this, but I am absolutely certain, with every fibre of my being, that those women mean absolutely _no_ harm to me. Please, you _have_ to accept the way I feel, if you have any faith in me at all. I trust them."

It was an argument that had as much resilience as a sheet of tissue paper, but something in the boy's eyes compelled Heero to believe him, and he nodded at last. "Not a word to Relena, or anyone else."

Just as Quatre was smiling with relief, a clumping noise came down the servants' stairs, and a tired and frustrated Otto appeared, looking as gruff as ever. "What's the meaning of all this noise? Miss Relena's in bed already, and we can hear something strange from three floors up!"

The trio looked at each other briefly. "Mice," said Heero.

"Big mice," said Quatre.

"With really powerful lungs," said Duo. "But don't sweat it, we've got it covered. They won't bother anyone again." He smiled, lips tinted faintly pink from the candy, and Otto backed away with a sneer. As soon as he was gone, Quatre thanked Heero with his eyes and went back to his room, leaving the cook and the butler to ponder what to do with the rest of the evening...all ninety minutes of it. Duo crunched down the rest of the tutti frutti treat and threw away the waxed paper wrapping. "Don't you wish all your days off were this exciting?"

Heero sighed tiredly and held up his new potted plant. "I'm going to find a place for this...and then I'm going to bed." Duo chuckled and agreed that this was the best plan yet that day. He carried Heero's new throw rug for him as they dragged themselves upstairs to rest, and to plan ways to avert whatever crisis reared its ugly head without warning next.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Forty-Five: While on assignment to watch Treize's movements outside the manor, Duo falls in the path of a strange bit of luck that could change the financial course of the rest of his life. Meanwhile, Dorothy attempts some detective work to find out what's going on in Quatre's room, and Heero has to contact an old, fearsome acquaintance to continue his investigation._

Mmmm...old-fashioned candy sticks... *drool* They still make those, y'know. There's a store down the street from me that has them...and now I want some. =o_o= Well, I guess I know what I'm doing tomorrow afternoon. And I wondered if there were any diligent Sherlockians out there who might have seen my use of Doyle's name last episode and immediately knew there was something wrong with it...*teehee* I love doing that...and I can't also help but wonder if anyone caught the Monty Python reference in this episode. =^_~= It's sort of in honour of the Comedy Network picking up Flying Circus for the summer. Canada is a happier place now. *grinz* Now, I'll need a couple extra days to sort myself out before next ep, so let's regroup on April 29th. Say, we're gaining rapidly on our 1-year anniversary... =^-^=


	45. Windfall

**Warning:** ...how shall I phrase this...how about, 'oblique sexual innuendo'? That oughta cover it. It gets itself over with pretty early, if you're squeamish. =^_~= I say it's oblique because it's highly nonspecific, because I want each of you to fill in the gaps with something appropriate to your own sensibilities. You'll see what I mean...

**Disclaimer:** In a town called Perfect where there's a Walgreen's on every street corner, every author and authoress has their own set of Gundam pilots to love and to squeeze and to show off to all their friends. But we don't live anywhere near Perfect. *realizes she just ripped off a commercial to explain that she's not ripping off a tv show* Dangit.

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Forty-Five: Windfall

_"Gambling: The sure way of getting nothing for something." ~Wilson Mizner _

April 29th, 1902

Based on new information provided by Mr. Marlowe, the select group at Bridlewood who knew the terrible truth about Lord Peacecraft's death, or as Duo had dubbed them, the Regents Park Irregulars, instituted a new policy of watching Treize at all hours of the day, and following him wherever he went. Heero was hoping that they might catch him in the act of doing something suspicious that may have led to clues about young Captain Peacecraft's whereabouts, dead or alive. Today, the Count remarked to his niece that he was going out for the day, and invited her to come along, but she politely declined; in the next room, ear pressed to the door, one of the Regents Park Irregulars silently accepted the invitation in her stead.

It was Duo's turn to watch Treize that day, and once he received word that the Count would be slipping out soon, he went up to his and Heero's room to swap the chef's uniform for his black suit and frock coat. He was just re-braiding his hair for tidiness' sake when there was a gentle knock at the door.

"Enter at your own risk!" Duo called out, transfixed by his own image in the full-length mirror and hunting for errors to correct ahead of time.

The door opened, and Quatre nudged his head an inch or two inside. "Hi...have you got a minute?"

"As many minutes as Count Iron Drawers gives me," Duo said, fluffing up his bangs a bit. "I'm supposed to be following him into town, so I've gotta look sharp."

Quatre smiled and walked the rest of the way in, shutting the door firmly but quietly behind him. "I'll try not to take up too much of your time, it's just getting harder and harder to be by myself lately, and I thought I'd grab the opportunity to come and talk to you."

Duo straightened the black string tie he'd bought to replace the priest's collar which originally came with the outfit, and turned around with a grin. "What's on your mind?"

Quatre licked his lips and fidgeted uneasily. "Well....." Unfortunately, 'Well' was as far as he got, for he had no idea how to gracefully approach the subject he wanted to discuss. A reddish tinge quickly filled in his pale cheekbones. "Uh...you and.....you and Heero........"

The longer the pauses became, the higher Duo's eyebrows sat on his forehead, and eventually they dissolved into his bangs altogether. "Right...me and Heero...good nouns, but could I trouble you for a verb or two?"

"You know you can talk to me about anything, don't you?"

Duo shrugged. "Sure, but right now, I think you're the one who needs practice talking."

Quatre's blush worsened, and he stepped closer, lowering his voice. "You and Heero...you're very....._close_...aren't you?"

Duo lowered his own voice to the same level. "Why do you ask?"

"I just...was curious, that's all," the blond boy stammered. "_If_, let's say, I knew two people...two _boys_, who were.....more than friends...I'd just be curious to know...what it was _like_."

They looked at each other with dazed stares, and it really didn't click in Duo's mind, what Quatre was so bashfully agitated about, until his sea green eyes darted from Duo's face to the bed, and back again. Duo followed the path of the furtive glance, got a hideously clear flash of insight, and backed away sharply from both Quatre and the bed, tugging at his collar and turning an interesting shade of crimson himself. "Oh, _nooo_. No no no. _No._ We're not...I mean, we don't...no, we're just...whew! Is it getting warm in here?" Since he was at the window anyway by that point, he jerked up the sash and stuck his head outside, and was lucky not to dislodge Heero's Arabian Jasmine plant from the windowsill.

Poor Quatre became beet red, mortified at his mistake and yet unable to figure out how it happened. After all, he was only basing the assumption on the kinds of auras he picked up on when Duo and Heero were together, and his sixth sense had never steered him wrong before. He backed away towards the door, head lowered. "I'm _so_ sorry! I never meant to cause offense! ...I'll just go." 

Duo pulled his head back in the room. "Now wait, wait...nobody said anything about offense," he said with a mediator's tone. "Let's talk about this, calmly and rationally, okay?" He pointed Quatre to the old walnut chest at the foot of the bed, and the gardener quickly sat down and stared at his shoes. Duo paced next to the bed, back and forth about eight times, then dragged a pillow over to the chest and sat down next to Quatre. He propped the pillow up on his lap and slumped down into it with a slouching hug, sinking his chin into the feathery bundle of fluff and studying his own shoes with equal interest.

"Just to make sure we're on the same page," Duo said slowly, "when you talk about me and Heero being close...you mean, like the stuff you heard at the trial, right?"

The false testimony of Treize's lackeys. It had burned the ears of everyone in the courtroom for hours, detailing the sort of physical behaviour two men could be tarred and feathered for in less civilized societies, and yet nobody present could tear themselves away. What they heard was scandalous, forbidden, compelling, and strangely exotic all at once, and their sense of revulsion was only slightly overpowered by their curiosity and thirst for cheap titillation. Quatre swallowed. "Yeah."

"Yeah." Duo straightened up a bit and took a deep breath. "I'll level with ya...I'll be the first one to admit that a lot of that stuff sounded _extremely_ gross...but a few things...I dunno...when I attach Heero's name to them in my head, somehow they don't seem that bad."

Quatre looked up at him, wide-eyed. "Really?"

"Sure, like, I can't stand to even _think_ about doing that sort of thing with a stranger, it just turns my stomach! But then I look at Heero, and I want to hold him...and be held by him...and then I don't know what's supposed to happen next because I never get that far, but I want to know. Sometimes I sit and daydream, going down the list of everything they accused me of at the trial, and think, 'What if we did this?' or 'What if we did that? What would it feel like? What would Heero do if I even suggested it?'" He hugged the pillow a little tighter, reliving some of the vivid thoughts he had secretly pursued as recently as the previous night, then relaxed again. "Which, of course, doesn't mean to say that I'd do _everything_ on the list...some of it was too gross even for me. It's revolting, when you think about it! How could you kiss somebody after knowing where their mouth had just been!?"

Both boys shuddered violently and made 'Yuck!' faces at the wall.

"I didn't honestly believe you'd lower yourself that far," Quatre said, pulling himself together at last.

"Hell no. Neither would Heero, I hope. It'd sure take the taste away of whatever I cooked for dinner that night." Duo exhaled slowly and flopped on his back, bouncing lightly against the mattress and hugging his pillow a little tighter, with a dreamy look on his face. "I bet he's got _great_ hands, though. That's what I think about the most. I wouldn't push him into doing anything really weird, but...I'm a reasonably normal, healthy, red-blooded kid, and it's only natural that I'm going to get a little hungry, y'know? I'd just...kinda like to know what's on the menu."

The trans-dimensional space around Duo warmed itself considerably as he drifted into the innermost rings of his imagination, and Quatre felt it. From his perspective, looking down at the blissful chef, the warmth and joy he exuded expanded to fill the entire room; it was something like a soothing spiritual sauna made up of soft ocean waves and warm sunbeams, all emanating from the relatively tiny body of the braided boy next to him. He smiled. "You love him, don't you?"

With his eyes softly closed and his lips only barely parted, Duo nodded, serene and trancelike.

"Does he love you?"

Duo opened his eyes, and at the same time, the sunbeams dimmed. "I don't know," he whispered. "I'm not even sure he knows what it means, and I'm _way_ too chicken to come out and ask him."

Quatre sighed. "That's too bad."

"Yeah."

They thought about it for a short time, while simultaneously acting as if it was the farthest thing from their minds, until sudden footsteps came rollicking up to the door a scant three seconds before it opened. Duo sat up, saw Heero in the doorway and smiled. The warm sunbeams returned, glistening with twice as much life and beauty as before. "Hey!"

Heero noticed Quatre was there, but wasn't terribly concerned, to the suddenly nervous gardener's relief; he had bigger fish to fry. "Treize is ready to leave. There's a carriage outside."

Duo tossed the pillow back to its usual place and leapt off the bed, tucking his braid down the back of his frock coat with a wink. "That's my cue, then. Showtime!" He headed out the door, followed by Heero, who gave a polite nod to Quatre, indicating, in Quatre's mind at least, that he really didn't give a flip if he was alone with Duo in their bedroom or not.

_At least he's not the jealous type,_ Quatre thought. He tried very hard to get a glimpse of what Heero was feeling, but at the brief moment before they both left, Duo's sunbeams were overpowering everything else in the room. Before Quatre left the sacred spot as well, and fled back to his familiar surroundings in the back garden, he promised himself that sooner or later, he was going to take a peek inside Heero's soul and find out if he cared for Duo or not.

**********  
  


Dorothy found the practice of tracking Quatre's movements to be very irritating, because he was constantly flitting about the estate like a rabid chipmunk, and she never knew exactly when he was going to pop out from behind the hedge or shoot out from the nearest doorway. It was highly detrimental to her mission, which was to sneak a look at whatever, or whoever, was in Quatre's room. At least Trowa had the good sense to spend the bulk of his time with the horses. Good old, predictable Trowa, able to store up human contact like a camel stores water.

Part of Dorothy's plan involved swiping a few matches from somewhere in the house, which was fairly easy. Remembering well what happened the last time she tried to light a match unassisted, she had been practising lighting a fireplace every night for the past week. Confident in her new skill, she took the tapered matches out back and looked around cautiously.

_He's got some nerve, locking his bedroom door all the time! It's like he doesn't trust me or something!_ She strolled casually past the kitchen window, towards the north end of the house. _Well, I'll show him that he can't keep secrets from the likes of--_

The servants' door to the kitchen opened. Dorothy instinctively ducked down behind the nearest potted spruce and started formulating excuses rapidly. It was Heero; he walked straight past the back terrace without any sideways glance and continued on, past the hedge maze and out of sight. Dorothy stood slowly, her heart racing, counted her blessings and dashed over to her target, Quatre's bedroom window.

The curtain was still there when she crouched down to the sunken window pane. What she needed was a crack in the woodwork between the bricks and the glass large enough for a matchstick to fit through, and she soon found it. _Shame...such pretty curtains...but they are dead common, so they deserve to burn._ With a devilish smile, Dorothy lit a match on the very first try and delicately poked it through the hole, just far enough to catch a few fibres of the flowered curtain and set it alight.

That done, she jumped up, taking the match with her and blowing it out, then ran to within an inch of the kitchen window, knowing that the kitchen was probably the nearest source of running water in the basement. Dorothy held her breath, peering in the window while keeping herself carefully concealed, and sure enough, someone took the bait.

Two short, feminine creatures with veils, one dressed in reds and golds, the other in blues and greens, came tearing into the kitchen from the left-hand side and made a beeline for the washbasin. They each filled a fruit bowl with water and ran back the way they came. _Success!_

Dorothy smirked. She didn't need to go back to Quatre's window for a second look; the curtain had probably already been replaced with an emergency reserve curtain of some sort. Besides, she found out what she wanted to know anyway. There were girls hiding there. Foreign-looking girls. Sisters perhaps. Feeling the giddiness of knowing something she wasn't supposed to know, Dorothy walked up the concrete steps to the main level, triumphant.

**********  
  


When Heero knocked on the door to Arthur's cottage, he was surprised to be shouted in by an angry young voice. Inside, he found Arthur and Wufei sitting opposite each other in front of the fireplace, staring down at the coffee table. On it was a cribbage board with red and black pegs, and each of the gentlemen held a small hand of cards. Even at a distance, Heero could tell that the reg pegs were much farther ahead; judging by the sour look on Wufei's face, it appeared he was in charge of the black pegs.

The butler attempted to say something but was quickly hushed by a waving hand attached to a white-suited arm attached to a very desperate Chinese warrior. Arthur and Wufei each counted up the points for their cards that hand; Wufei was able to move his black pegs ahead an impressive twelve notches, but it wasn't nearly enough. Arthur's hand counted for eighteen, and it put his red pegs at the finish line with a few spaces to spare. Wufei gurgled angrily.

"It's impossible to win so many times in a row! How are you doing this!?"

Arthur sat back and smiled good-naturedly. "Ah can't 'elp it if yer'e no expert at these sort'ah games."

"Well, cribbage just isn't my best game, that's all!" Wufei shouted. "If we'd been playing backgammon, I would have mopped the floor with you!"

"Oh, aye?" Arthur leaned forward. "I've go' a backgammon set in th' storage cupboard."

Wufei leaned forward as well. "Bring it on."

Arthur got up and toddled off to the other room, while Heero raised an eyebrow at the entire exchange. Less than a year ago, Arthur and Wufei were eyeing each other suspiciously across eighty feet of grass and cobblestones, and wouldn't have stood in the same room together, let alone sit at the same table, yet here they were, trying to humiliate each other at card games. He thought perhaps Duo would have found something hysterically funny about it all, but Heero couldn't imagine exactly what. "So...you two are getting along?"

"I _must_ beat him at _something_!" Wufei growled at the table, cracking his knuckles. "It's not just about winning anymore! My honour is at stake!"

When he stopped to think, Heero found it strange that a young man who seemed to match him in cunning, intelligence, and fighting ability couldn't manage to beat an elderly man at a board game. It seemed...unbefitting an agent. He blinked the problem away to the back of his mind, to be dealt with another time. There was serious business to be taken care of first. "Have you been to see Jeffrhyss lately?"

The anger drained from Wufei's face, replaced by apprehension. He wasn't ready to admit it out loud, but seeing what the man did to Heero had spooked him badly, making him realize just how deeply entrenched he was in something he basically wanted no part of. "Not since...no, I haven't." He lifted his chin bravely, but his eyes were on the floor. "Have you?"

"I promised Duo I'd have no contact with him until it was safe," Heero said, "that's why I've come to you instead."

The Chinese boy couldn't help but be intrigued. "What do you need?"

"I'm trying to find out if Relena's brother is really dead, but to do that, I could use the help of any operatives or agents on assignment in South Africa. I used to know the movements of dozens of operatives, but that was over a year ago. A lot could have changed since then."

"And you need me to ask Jeffrhyss who's in the area," Wufei finished for him.

Both of Heero's eyebrows twitched, and he tilted his head to the side. "Don't you already know? All agents in the field are supposed to know each other's movements, so we don't shoot each other by accident."

Wufei fidgeted. "Maybe...maybe I just wasn't paying attention when I was told. I tend to do that when I'm being force-fed tedious details about people and places that are of no consequence to my life.

Though he didn't let on outwardly, Heero thought that was very strange. The hierarchy of the organization from oneself downwards was one of the first things an agent was drilled on before being released into the world, and Wufei's total ignorance on the subject was just one more thing about the boy that didn't add up. Either he was much lower on the ladder of power than he originally let on, or there was something more sinister behind it all. Still, it wasn't the time to make him irked and defensive, at least not until Heero got what he wanted out of him. "I wouldn't ordinarily ask you to ferry any more messages for me, but if there's any possibility we can catch Treize in an act of fraud, or murder..."

Wufei nodded at the idea. He'd been talked out of slitting the Count's throat some time previous, since the number of crimes they could pin on him had grown considerably, and if they all worked together to prove his guilt, they had the power to inflict much greater suffering on him. "I _do_ know someone in Brighton who could relay a telegram to the base. We might get a reply by this evening, if we're lucky."

Heero looked relieved that he wouldn't have to speak to his Lordship personally. "I'd appreciate that."

"One game of backgammon, and then I'll go," Wufei declared, a moment before Arthur returned with the game in question.

Heero left them to it, and retraced his steps back to the house, but he couldn't get the nagging inconsistencies about Agent Chang Wufei out of his mind. When they met, Heero should have known of him, as he would anyone belonging to Jeffrhyss who was below him in rank, but he had never heard the boy's name or seen his face before his arrival at Bridlewood. Wufei knew some key secrets about Jeffrhyss, however, things only a high-ranking operative in his Lordship's company could know, so he wasn't lying about his involvement...but he was still a cause for mild suspicion. As soon as the business with Treize was sorted out, Heero decided, he would devote more of his energy into discovering what it was about Wufei that unnerved him so.

**********  
  


Duo had to admit, he'd had more exciting afternoons. Even after swearing off his old habit of thrill-seeking, the night he and his best friend nearly got killed by an oncoming freight train, he was seriously considering going back to his daredevil ways, if only to fend off dying of boredom.

Right after leaving the manor in a hired carriage, one that Duo followed easily by sprinting down side streets and alleyways, and also by relying on heavy traffic downtown, Treize went straight to Lady Une's mansion. She appeared to be expecting him, and sailed out her front door in a lemon chiffon sundress and matching wide-brimmed hat, eager to join him on his planned adventure. Duo followed them to the shops, through the park, and up west, where he subsisted on a meagre lunch of fish and chips while the Count and his fair Lady dined at a gourmet restaurant. It was all quite tedious, but Heero had asked him very nicely to watch Treize, and watch him he would.

After lunch, the aristocrats went to the racetrack, where the new sporting season's fastest fillies and most sturdy stallions were charging around in dirt-covered circles before an audience of thousands. Treize and Lady Une each placed a few bets, just for fun, and took their seats in the executive gallery with the striped sunshade, amongst the rest of London's rich and famous, and had the best view of just about everything to be seen. Duo sat way in the back of the grandstands, on a hard wooden bleacher as opposed to the socialites' high-back upholstered deck chairs, and struggled for a long time to get comfortable enough to concentrate on observing his target.

At the far left-hand side of the race track, a bell clanged, the retaining gates at the starting post opened, and eight jockeyed horses sprang out at full speed, clomping and jostling as they made their way around the sun-drenched oval for the crowd's amusement. Duo found nothing spectacular about it.

_Whee. Horseys go round in circle. This is better than sleeping pills._ Three races later, the Count hadn't moved, preferring to keep close to his companion and the bottle of champagne they shared. _They look like they're celebrating,_ Duo thought. _Probably dreaming up a thousand and one ways to spend Relena's money, once they get their grubby paws on it._

No one had thought of the possibility that Lady Une was assisting Treize in his larcenous campaign, but now Duo was starting to wonder. The extra thought this required made him hungry again, and since his target hadn't moved in the past half hour or more, he felt safe enough to nip back to the concession stands in search of anything remotely resembling a Coney Island hot dog. He got up and squeezed through the lower-class crowd without any trouble, but when he got to the aisle, where the cheap seats met the stairs, his foot caught on something, and he halted, looking down.

Stuck between two slats of poorly-maintained wood, but nosing out just far enough to nab Duo by the toe of his shoe, was a small brown leather pouch. He picked it up, turned it over a few times, and gave it a squeeze. It sounded and felt like there were folded papers inside. Duo looked around furtively, but saw no one scanning the stairs for lost items, nor did he see anyone looking at him in a way they shouldn't have been. Nonchalantly, he slipped the pouch into his pocket and exited the grandstands in the opposite direction from Treize.

Once safely at ground level, Duo picked out a covert spot behind a hedge and took out the leather pouch to give it a closer inspection. With the best and purest of intentions, he opened it, and nearly choked at what he found. Inside was a roll of bank notes, altogether totalling thirty-five pounds. He realized, both excitedly and foolishly, that with a sum equalling a year's salary in his pocket, he could sit _in front_ of Treize and Lady Une, with champagne, smoked salmon and a strolling violinist, and still have enough to buy a whole new wardrobe on the way back home.

Just in time, guilt slapped him in the face and told him to knock it off. The best thing to do, he reasoned, would be to turn the money in to the lost property office, and let them deal with it. Unfortunately, he searched the entire racing complex three times over, and couldn't find the lost property office. Failing that, he went to the nearest unoccupied ticket wicket, where a trio of bookies were on their coffee break with the 'Next Window Please' sign clearly displayed.

"Excuse me," he said, tapping politely on the window.

"Next window, please," one of the three rough-edged tellers yawned, without looking up from his racing form.

Duo looked at the other windows, and they all had long lines in front of them. He preferred to unload the cash as soon as possible, before it was unlawfully picked from his own pocket by a more experienced thief. "But I need some help _now_, not an hour from now. Can't you guys spare two minutes?"

The second teller, a gruff-looking bearded bloke with an eye patch, bit down on his cigar and snarled at the boy. "Oi! Cawn't you read!? It says we ain't open, so clear off!"

Duo faked looking hurt and humble. "Ohhh, I'm sorry, I just hoped there was someone who could tell me what to do with the _big fat wad of money I just found_!" As his voice hardened towards the end, heads turned, and the three tellers all looked shiftily at each other. To their disappointment, all three had heard the boy quite clearly, so none of them could offer to look after the money and pocket it without the other two knowing. At occasions like this, Duo was glad that he understood the criminal mind.

"Ain't there nobody at the lost property office?" the first man said, putting down his coffee with a slosh. He appeared to be in charge of that particular window, had dark, thinning hair, spectacles, and heavy jowls hanging off his face with three days' worth of stubble.

"Maybe there would be, if I could find it," Duo explained, "but half the people in line over there know I'm walking around with a small fortune, and if I go looking for the place _now_, and someone follows me, smacks me over the head and steals it, it'll be _your_ fault for not helping me! I'll sue!"

"Awlright! Awlright!" the man whined with his hands in the air. "But you cawn't jus' dump a load o' money on us...if you wanna leave it 'ere, you'll 'ave to place a bet."

Duo looked down and to either side, gnawing on his lower lip and thinking. He couldn't give the money away in case the owner was still looking for the pouch, and he _certainly_ couldn't gamble with something that didn't belong to him...but if the owner was never found, gambling it and losing it was spiritually better than keeping it. He took a deep breath and huffed it out in exasperation, removing the leather pouch from his pocket and shoving it through the open portion of the window. "Okay, if that's the only way to get rid of it."

He started walking away, but the man called out and stopped him. "...'ang on, you've gotta pick an 'orse first!"

Duo spun around and sighed, looking up at the odds posted for the next race. He picked the horse with the worst chance of winning, hoping never to see the money again. "Alright, the...the blue one, up there. Whatever." He pointed at his choice, the turned to leave again.

"Gillingham Bluebell to win at five-to-one," the man muttered as he filled out the paperwork. "Oi! Son! You forgot your betting slip!"

Again Duo stopped and groaned. Every moment he delayed getting back to his seat was a moment in which he could lose the Count's trail. He stalked back to the window, snatched the piece of paper confirming his wager, and practically ran to the grandstands and up the stairs to his spot. Thankfully, Treize hadn't moved.

Duo found the entire trackside experience rather boring; horses just weren't fast enough for a decent race, in his opinion. _Too bad Professor Giorgenson didn't soup up a couple dozen jalopies just like Winifred. Then we'd have a race._ The chef was pretty much zoned out when the next race began, but slowly became aware of the droning announcer's voice, piped to the audience by a man in a straw hat and striped waistcoat, pouring a speedy commentary into a metal speaking trumpet.

"...ahead by two lengths, falling back is Pardon My Garden, and it's Razzamatazz, Hershey Bar, and Chiquita Margarita coming down the back stretch, followed by Twenty-Three Skidoo, Gillingham Bluebell, and Pardon My Garden. Into the third corner now, Chiquita Margarita inches ahead, Razzamatazz still strong on the inside, and coming up on the outside is Gillingham Bluebell. Gillingham Bluebell closing fast on Chiquita Margarita as they come out of the fourth corner, and it's Razzamatazz and Gillingham Bluebell, Razzamatazz losing ground as they head to the post, and at the finish, it's Gillingham Bluebell by half a length, followed by..."

There were disappointed groans peppering the grandstands, and a few grateful cheers from the few that took the same long shot that Duo took. The chef blinked. _Hold on a sec...I won, didn't I?_ Frantically, he tore the betting slip out of his pocket and read it twice. Gillingham Bluebell to win at five-to-one odds. Duo swallowed. _But...I can't win with someone else's money! I've got to straighten this out!_

In a flash, he dashed back down the stairs, forgetting his mission, and ran straight for the window with the three Cockney clerks in it. Only the man in charge with the heavy face and the thinning hair remained, as the other two had gone back to their own wickets, and the window that had been 'closed' was now open for business, complete with a long line. Duo stood at the end of it and fidgeted, tugging at the scruff of his neck where his hidden braid was scrubbing an itchy patch into his skin. When he finally got up to the man, he slapped the paper down with a wild and desperate look in his eyes.

"You've gotta take the bet back!" Duo shouted.

The man looked at the slip and whistled appreciatively. "No can do, my son. You are now the proud h'owner of one 'undred and seventy-five quid."

"_What_!?"

"Plus your stakes money back. That makes two 'undred and ten."

The clerk opened his cash drawer and started counting out twenty pound notes. Duo gurgled with fright at the prospect of semi-stealing such a large sum and smacked both hands against the glass. "No no no no! I can _not_ take this money! It's not mine!"

"It is now, sunshine."

"Look, I don't _want_ it!" the boy insisted. "Can't you just stick it under the counter and hope one of your goony friends makes off with it after closing time!?"

"See 'ere, we may be a bit shifty, but we h'ain't unethical!" The clerk rubbed his stubbly chin and thought about it. "Tell you what, though...if you're really dead keen on losin' it, you could always place a tougher bet."

"Nuh uh, no way! I'm through gambling! I like to restrict my crimes to public lewdness, petty theft, and occasionally using my sleeping best friend as a decorative display pedestal for my cat! This is out of my league!"

"Not if we make it easier to lose!" the clerk said, taking out the day's racing form and spreading it on the counter at an angle from which they could both read it. "...'ere we go, race after next, the one with the worst odds is Sweet Adeline at ten-to-one. Suppose you put your winnin's on _that_ 'orse, and it loses, then you can just keep the original thirty-five quid, since you came by it honestly. Howzat?"

Duo looked doubtful. "Well..."

"And in the remote 'appenstance that Sweet Adeline wins, you can put the winnin's of _that_ race on the worst runner of the _next_ race, which would be.....Harlequin's Gallop at _fifteen-to-one_."

Duo blinked and looked up. He'd heard that name before...

"Then only one 'orse has to lose, and you've lost the lot. It's what we in the trade call a 'double'. What d'you reckon?"

_Harlequin's Gallop..._ The words echoed in Duo's mind over and over, but he couldn't figure out why they mesmerized him so. He would have given it more consideration, but the gentlemen behind him in line were getting antsy, grumbling and prodding him in the back, telling him to get a move on. "Okay...okay, I'll do it, but put _everything_ on the line. I don't want to walk out of here with a single penny more than I came in with."

The clerk filled out the paperwork and handed Duo a new betting slip, which he hastily shoved in his pocket before squeezing out of the line and running back to the grandstand, but before he even made it back to his seat, he could tell he'd spent far too much time trying to get rid of his ill-gotten gains. Treize and Lady Une were gone.

Duo panicked. He ran down to the upper-class gallery where he'd seen them last, but the attendant wouldn't let the pathetic lower-class boy in, even to have a look around. He dashed out of the complex and ran all around the perimeter looking for the pair, but couldn't find them anywhere, then dashed back inside, searching the wickets, the gardens, and the concession stands. All the while, there was the tinny voice of the man with the speaking trumpet in the background, barking out the results of the latest race.

"...into the fourth corner, Percy's Paddleboat falling back behind Aces Wild, and it's Mother of Pearl, Sweet Adeline and Aces Wild. Aces Wild coming up strong on the outside, and down the front stretch, it's Mother of Pearl and Aces Wild, but Sweet Adeline's making a _strong_ comeback! Half a length back, quarter length, and at the post, it's Sweet Adeline by a nose!"

Duo was only barely listening. _Oh man, oh man, oh man...Heero only asked me to do one thing and I messed up bad! He's never gonna trust me with any more spy work as long as I live!_ Desperate for a clue, he started asking people at random if they had noticed a tall, distinguished-looking gentleman with a glamorous brunette on his arm. Most people said yes, dozens of them, which was no help at all. By now, Duo was sweating from the exertion and couldn't fight the need to sit down and pull his braid out from under his jacket before it could tickle any worse. Despondently, he sank his head into his hands and sighed. To his left, the man with the speaking trumpet was calling the most important race of all.

"...down the back stretch, it's Wings of Fire leading Grim Reaper by a nose, half a length back is Cannonball, Desert Sand and Lonely Dragon, and three lengths back, posing no threat, is Harlequin's Gallop..."

Duo dragged his head up to watch what he had already decided would be his last horse race ever. On the whole, gambling had not been a positive experience. He propped his chin up on one arm and stared at the broad dirt oval, vacant'-eyed and wondering how he could show his face at home that evening.

"...but hold on a moment! Harlequin's Gallop is rallying! Past Lonely Dragon, past Desert Sand, and closing fast on Cannonball!"

The crowd drew in a collective breath, and Duo's eyes ballooned.

"Cannonball holding steady against Harlequin's Gallop coming out of the second turn, but down the back stretch it's Harlequin's Gallop going for the pass! Harlequin's Gallop ahead by half a length, and now a length going into the third corner!"

Suddenly, a fragment of Duo's memory that had been lurking in shadow leapt out into plain view, and he knew where he'd heard the name 'Harlequin's Gallop' before. _...when I was talking to Heero on the telephone! He said Relena walked in, and he made out like he was placing a bet so she wouldn't catch on, and that's the horse he picked! He told me he made that name up...but it's real! It's real and it's fast!_ At worst, it was a coincidence; at best, a sign from above.

"...gaining on Grim Reaper, and it's Wings of Fire, Grim Reaper and Harlequin's Gallop! Harlequin's Gallop taking them _both_ on in the fourth corner, squeezing them to the inside, and coming down the front stretch, Harlequin's Gallop takes the lead!"

Several spectators jumped to their feet, Duo included.

"Wings of Fire and Grim Reaper, unable to fight back! Harlequin's Gallop leads by a length, now _two_ lengths! An amazing turn of events! At the post, with a commanding lead, it's Harlequin's Gallop! Harlequin's Gallop wins it all!"

The grandstands erupted into a combination of cheers and moans, and Duo might have heard them if not for the strong ringing in his ears. He swayed a bit from side to side, eyes wide and double-glazed, and finally had to grab the nearest metal railing to keep from toppling over. The next coherent thought that formed between his ears told him to go as fast as he could to the gruff clerk's wicket, and to have it out with the man who all but promised him a fine losing streak. He went, stumbling and lurching, numb from the neck down, to the very same window which was displaying the 'Next Wicket Please' sign once again. Impatiently, he rapped on the window. "What the heck did you do!?" he yelled.

The clerk looked up, saw who it was, snatched off his spectacles and tossed the sign over his shoulder. "You wanna watch your manners, my son! I've just done you a whopping big favour!"

"_Favour_!? I was supposed to lose everything! Now my problems are ten times bigger than they were before!"

"Oh no," the clerk said with a smile born of avarice, "first they got ten times bigger, then they got fifteen times bigger on top o' that!" He grabbed pencil and paper, scribbled out some quick calculations, and put his spectacles back on to make his grand announcement. "Since both 'orses done come up, your winnnin's, stakes an' all, comes to thirty-four thousand, six 'undred and eighty-five quid. My 'eartfelt congratulations to ya."

Duo's eyes bulged. "Thirty.....thirty-four........_thousand_?"

"I cawn't authorize that big a payout meself," the clerk said. "I'll 'ave to fetch the manager."

As soon as the man left his window and ducked into the inner recesses of the trackside office space, Duo's legs gave out. He crumpled into a seated position, turning around as he fell so that he was leaning up against the counter facing away from the window. For some strange reason, he felt extremely dizzy. The people around him hadn't heard the clerk's words; they were still milling about, attending to their own petty business, betting a shilling and occasionally collecting a pound or two, totally oblivious to the fortune that had fallen on Duo's shoulders. As visions of little money bags danced around Duo's woozy head, he started to like the idea of being rich. He could buy a house with Heero somewhere and never have to lift a finger. He could open a chain of homeless shelters across Europe. He could hire Relena to shine his shoes.

The clerk came back with his superior in tow, and blinked rapidly when he saw the lucky boy was missing. He drew up close to the window and just barely saw two feet sticking out from under the counter, and banged on the wooden surface sharply. "Get up, you plonker!"

Duo got up a little too fast and whacked his head on the underside of the countertop, yelping and clutching at his sore scalp as he half-straightened up to look at what the clerk had brought with him. The manager standing behind the clerk was clean-shaven and snooty-looking, with substantially better clothes and a classier haircut that his scruffy subordinate. He looked Duo up and down, studied his face, and leaned slightly closer to the window with a scrutinizing glare. "How old are you, young man?" he asked with a terribly snooty accent.

"Wha...I don't know," Duo stammered, "sixteen, seventeen, somewhere around there. What difference does it make?"

The snooty manager stood back and put his hands in his pockets, looking down his nose at the smarmy juvenile. "It makes quite a lot of difference when the ownership of such a large sum of money is in question," he said. "Unless you can prove that you are _legally_ an adult, I'm afraid I cannot release this money into your possession."

"But how am I supposed to do that!? I'm an _orphan_, for cryin' out loud! And who are _you_ to say who's an adult and who isn't!? What about mental maturity, huh!? Doesn't sixteen or seventeen years of being a reasonably good citizen put me ahead of some of these other degenerates who can't even _find_ this place without having a drink first!?" Duo waved an arm violently at the growing crowd of spectators listening to his frantic speech, some of whom were admittedly winos trying to double their money before taking it to the liquor store. Two of them nodded, clinked their bottles in brown paper bags together, and drank a toast to lethargy.

The manager was unmoved, and seemed to get even snootier after the boy slagged off his regular customers. "I'm sorry, _sir_, but these are house rules." Either that, or he was trying to bilk the boy out of his rightful winnings, no one would know.

In a rare display of temper, Duo kicked the front of the counter below the window. "Well, it's a stupid rule! That money's mine and I'm not leaving without it!"

"I thought you dinnint want it!" the clerk whined.

Duo grabbed the edge of the counter and ducked down to the hole in the window to shout at the troublesome man. "I changed my mind, _okay_!?"

"Sir," the manager said tiredly, "all this is immaterial. Until you can prove that you are legally responsible for your winnings," he said, elegantly taking the betting slip from the counter top and placing it in a drawer, which he subsequently locked shut, "this stays here."

Duo gaped as he saw his dreams of wealth fly away on gilded wings. Behind him, the crowd reacted to the decision with a mixture of sympathetic moans and condescending giggles. With an ear-bending sound that cut a wide swath through the mess, two people began laughing rich, sophisticated laughs, and they sounded unpleasantly familiar. Duo turned around and was dismayed to see Treize and Lady Une observing the scene and having a nice little chuckle at his expense. He glared at them, but they wouldn't stop. Finally ready for a good long gloat, Treize sauntered over and smirked wickedly at the boy. "Having a bit of trouble with the establishment, are we? Serves you right, I say! Yet another divine confirmation that some of us are destined to be poor."

"I don't need this from you," Duo growled. "I'm being taken advantage of here! This whole system is seriously screwed up!"

The Count's smirk sharpened, and his eyebrows arched in superiority. "Well, that's what happens when you play big boys' games, isn't it?" He smacked the side of Duo's face lightly with one gloved hand, and Duo shrank uncomfortably away from it, looking beaten and hurt. The poor chef watched the pair stroll away, still laughing up a storm, then turned back around and leaned heavily against the ticket window, head bowed in defeat.

Only a few feet away, a newspaper reporter wasn't missing a single detail of the action. He recognized Duo from the time he covered the boy's trial, and knew this would be a thrilling continuation of the unfortunate waif's story. Without being noticed by anyone, he finished off his notes and prepared to swoop on Duo for an exclusive interview, but the boy had slipped away to mourn his misfortune in solitude. With a small shrug, the reporter decided he could complete the story without the interview anyway, and rushed home to his typewriter without delay.

**********  
  


Grateful for even five minutes' rest from his suddenly backbreaking manual labour, a very tired butler slumped into one of the parlour's plush sofas and kicked his feet up on the coffee table. Heero understood that Relena might have been just a little disappointed at finding out that he wasn't a marrying man, but he never expected her to take it out on his hide. Only recently, and especially since Marcus had been coming over more frequently, she had been giving Heero more work than anyone else on the staff, and even took difficult duties away from the housemaids and dumped them on the boy, perhaps as a form of subconscious retribution for leading her on and then turning into a grouch. Many debates could be held on the subject of whether or not he deserved it, but he did the work without complaining, and had a few precious moments to spare before dinner was served. In the absence of Duo, who was running rather late, he decided to curl up with the evening paper and relax.

_Ahhh, the late edition, full of mind-numbing drivel. What bliss._ He flipped languidly through the society pages, not really caring what he read as long as it had nothing to do with housework. Before long, something bizarre beyond belief caught his attention, and as he read the short piece in the middle of page seven, he tightened his grip on the paper with both hands, crinkling the delicate leaves in white-knuckled fury. Perhaps fatigue was making him more irritable than usual, but from what the article said, these were far from usual circumstances.

Just then, there was a mousy tapping at the parlour doorway directly in front of him, behind the paper. Duo was peeking into the room and partially-shielding himself from harm with the door jamb, still wondering how to tell Heero what had happened. "Hi!" he chirped.

Slowly, Heero's tightly knotted hands folded down the top half of the paper without moving. He was already glaring an intense glare that seemed to say, _'Have you lost your mind!?'_

Duo cleared his throat. "Um...you've done one or two things in your life that you're not proud of...right?"

With a flashy jerking motion, Heero shook out the paper to straighten it, and read from the spot he'd left off at. "Headline. 'Plucky Chef Out Of Luck. High society cook Duo Maxwell, age unknown, made famous last year by the seedy scandal of gross indecency at Bridlewood Manor, had a bad run of luck at the track today, when--'"

"It wasn't my fault! It was an accident!"

"_How_ does a person win thirty-five thousand pounds by _accident_!?"

"I don't know!" Duo slumped pathetically next to Heero on the sofa and buried his face in his hands. "It's not like I was trying to goof off instead of watching Treize like you asked me to, I really stuck to him until we got to the racetrack! I found someone's wallet on the ground and I started out wanting to give it to the lost-and-found, but then every time I tried to get back to my work, they just kept throwing more money at me!" He lifted his head and made wild throwing gestures to accompany the last phrase, then fell back against the red plush and let his head loll wherever it wanted. "I tried to do my job today, I really did."

Heero tossed the paper aside and pinched the bridge of his nose, counting to ten in as many languages as it took to calm down. "This wasn't what I had in mind when I told you to keep a low profile. In fact, if you can keep your name out of the papers for the next year, I'll buy you your weight in chocolate. That should be encouragement enough."

Duo whimpered, sat up, and leaned his head on Heero's right shoulder, looking as meek as he ever had in life. "I'm sorry I lost track of Treize. Actually, he wasn't out of my sight for that long...he showed up just in time to laugh at me, the jerk. So...now he knows we're watching him more closely. I screwed up and I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry you couldn't keep the money. I can't think of anyone more deserving of a little good luck." Softened as he always was by Duo's very presence, Heero loosened up and wrapped a comforting arm around him, and Duo repositioned himself snugly against Heero's shoulder, with an arm around his waist at the back. "I suppose you'll just have to mooch off _me_ for a little while longer," he said with a hint of a grin in his voice.

"I knew it'd be wrong to keep it right from the start," Duo said, "but the more I pushed the money away from me, the more of it there was...and eventually, I really did want to keep it. That money could have done so much for my old orphanage, and maybe every other orphanage in London, too. I could have helped a lot of people, but I blew it because I don't know who I am." He straightened up and looked Heero in the eye, while they still had a comfortable grip on each other. "I was thinking about this on the way home. We don't know who we are, Heero...neither one of us. We don't know our families, or the places we came from...we don't even know our own birthdays."

Heero looked down. It was the gospel truth; there was a randomly-chosen birthdate printed on his fake passport, the one that said his name was Harvey Young, but that was as close as he had ever come to knowing how old he was. Over the years, he'd made some rough approximations for his own interest, but in the real world, it was hardly sufficient. "We still have all those things, even if we're not aware of them," he said. "It doesn't diminish us."

Duo pondered, then brightened up. "I know what we should do! We'll give ourselves _new_ birthdays! You pick one for me, and I'll pick one for you, and then we'll always have them starting this year. Any excuse for a party in the hedge maze. How 'bout it?"

The idea actually made Heero smile, totally disarmed by Duo's charming childishness. "Deal."

They shared a comfy moment and didn't really feel like getting up, but it was almost dinnertime, and there was work to be done. Before they could return to their duties, however, they were stopped at the parlour door by Wufei, who looked at Duo and wondered whether he should save his news for another time. Heero spotted the telegram in his hand and saved him the trouble. "You've had a reply?"

"Quicker than I expected," Wufei said, ignoring Duo's slightly puzzled look. He hesitated for a moment, his face drawn. "It wasn't the news you were hoping for. I explained to Jeffrhyss why you needed a contact person in South Africa, but he says he won't do any business with you unless it's face-to-face."

Heero glared. "Not likely."

Not very mindful of Wufei's presence, Duo clutched Heero's arm closely. Now he understood what it was all about, but it still worried him. "He's not coming to get you, is he?" the chef asked nervously.

"He wouldn't dare," Heero said firmly, "not while I'm armed and unresponsive to his brainwashing techniques. It would be suicide."

On the inside, Duo shuddered. He could tell by the boy's voice that he meant every word. "And you won't go to see him, promise?"

Heero looked at him with sympathy for his worries. "I already promised, remember?"

Duo smirked grimly. "Just makin' sure."

Having gotten absolutely nowhere that day, the three of them were ready to write off the rest of the evening and try again tomorrow. Wufei went back to Arthur's cottage, still displaying a puzzling reluctance to leave the old man's company, while Duo and Heero shuffled downstairs to check on dinner. Perhaps they had lost a few hours surveillance on Treize, but they had gained several days' worth of material to talk about between them and them alone. Curiously enough, most of it entailed fanciful speculation about what each of them would do with thirty-five thousand pounds...theoretically, of course.

**********  
  


_9:54 pm, Telegraph Office  
East Orange, New Jersey, U.S.A._

As he did every night he could, a part-time cub reporter by the name of Eddie Brooks was wading through a small ocean of overseas telegrams filled with tidbits of news from around the world. Every now and then, when things got slow in his small corner of a New York newspaper, bottom left corner of page 23, to be exact, the editor let him choose an intriguing piece of fluff from another country to print as a quirky interest piece. Tomorrow's outlook for the bottom left corner of page 23 was looking very grim indeed, so Eddie was screening every possible story that his chums in other nations were sending him for the gem that could promote him to the _top_ left corner of page 23, or even better, page 22.

Right between reading about the reputed two-headed alligator in Mexico and the boy who could eat metal in India, there was a knock at the door to the small telegraph office, and the visitor barged right in before Eddie could officially invite him. It was a friendly acquaintance of the clean-cut young man, one he was rarely unhappy to see.

"Eddie, Eddie, Eddie!" the visitor chirped cheerily. It was a middle-aged man who, for lack of any better term known to the King's English, was pointy. His beard was pointy, his moustache was pointy, and even the ring of gray hair encircling his bald spot was pointy. Besides those outstanding features, he wore round dark spectacles and an obscenely colourful shirt that suggested a dozen scarlet macaw parrots and a handful of peacocks had walked past him and blown up all at once, splashing their brilliant hues all over the man's clothes. He was well-known for all these things, but most of all for his laid-back personality and his ability to sell anyone anything. He was also carrying something smallish in a brown paper sack. "Eddie baby, have I got a deal for you."

"Hiya, Howard," the young reporter said, looking up from his papers with a smile. "If it's another 'factory seconds' trench coat, thanks but no thanks. The sleeves fell off the last one you sold me."

"Aw, sorry to hear that kid," the pointy man said. "Trust me, this time I've got something you can _really_ use!" With that, he hefted the paper sack onto Eddie's desk, on top of the mountain of papers, and extracted from it a pocket-size folding camera. At the click of a button, the front panel dropped down, and the accordion-like red bellows unfurled itself and held the lens out a few inches from the back panel. "Eastman Kodak, only three years old, fell off the back of a camera truck, so to speak. I've got six rolls of number two film with it, worth a good fifteen cents apiece, but I'll throw them all in for only a quarter. As for the final price...eh, since you've been such a good customer, we can negotiate. Whaddaya say?"

Eddie smirked. "I know what you're like when I've just gotten paid for the week. You should've brought that thing here while I was broke, then you'd be easier to deal with." He looked at the camera; it was awfully tempting, he had to admit, and having his own photographic equipment could bump him up in the newspaper hierarchy. "How much?"

"For you? A dollar."

"I could get it new for a dollar!"

"But not with film included!" Howard propped himself up on the desk with both arms and leaned forward. "Ninety cents."

"Seventy-five."

"Eighty cents and I leave your office in tears, dooming you to a life of guilt and self-recrimination for having gotten such a good deal out of me."

Eddie reached out and shook Howard's hand. "Done." He fished out some coins and completed the transaction, shaking his head. "I'll have to spend the rest of this on developing chemicals now. Every time I talk to you, I end up further in debt."

Howard gratefully accepted the money and squirrelled it away in his pocket with a grin. "It's a beautiful friendship, isn't it? So, whatcha workin' on?"

"Oh, sorting through some news stories, looking for something juicy," Eddie said tiredly. "You'd think there'd be something of importance after the amount of time I spend here, but it's all the same trash...'Man bites dog and gives it chicken pox'...'Woman gives birth to albino triplets'...'American waif robbed of fortune in London gambling scandal'..."

Howard's eyebrows leapt up above the top edge of his specs. "Are you serious? Redcoats picking on a Yank? They got to keep Canada, wasn't that enough? Lemmie see that last one." Eddie handed him the news item about the peculiar boy who lost big time at the track because of his age, or official lack thereof, and watched Howard's reaction with great curiosity. "Hey...I think I know this kid. Long braided hair, skinny as a beanpole...yeah, that's him. Well, I'll be damned."

Eddie waited in vain for an explanation. "What?"

"I met this kid last year in Buffalo," Howard said with a sense of wonder in his voice. "I didn't even know his name...but they describe him perfectly in this article, so it's gotta be him!"

"Well...what's he doing over there?" Eddie asked, befuddled.

"What's he doing? Gettin' shafted by the Brits, that's what he's doin'." Howard handed back the paper with a raised eyebrow. "You want my advice? Print that one."

Eddie read it over a second time, and it seemed just a little bit more interesting if he read it with the mindset that an American citizen was being taken advantage of by a legal loophole, thousands of miles from home. That made it a human interest story. "You know...you could be right." He thought about it some more, and nodded emphatically. "In fact, you _are_ right. This is the one. Thanks!"

"Anytime, kid," the pointy man said as he headed for the door. "And, um...there's a chance I might be getting some authentic Tennessee whiskey next week. There should be some falling off the back of a whiskey truck around Wednesday. How many bottles can I put you down for?"

Eddie went back to his work with a grin. "Goodnight, Howard."

Howard shrugged, and left. His philosophy, as always, was 'Nothing ventured, nothing gained,' and the occasional minor setback on the path to becoming a millionaire was of little concern. He went back to his horse and cart full of odd things collected from odd places, some of it legally, and rode off into the night, looking for the next likely customer to unload his salvage collection onto. Eddie put the chosen news item in his attaché case, put away the rest of the papers, and locked up the office for the night. Anything else that was coming over the wire, he could afford to leave until the morning. For now, he had a stunning little story that a large portion of New York city would be reading the next day, and he had a boy named Duo Maxwell to thank for it.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Forty-Six: Someone at Bridlewood welcomes a mystery visitor who just happened to be in the neighbourhood, and the reunion seems almost too good to be true. Dorothy discusses her findings with Lady Une and is given a suggestion even she isn't comfortable with, and Trowa divulges his true feelings about Quatre's family._

Dun dun DUNNNN! Oh well, easy come, easy go, right? =^_~= We'll find out, I guess...now, um...I had the next six episodes plotted out, time-wise, on a little piece of paper. Well, guess what. I haven't done my taxes yet, I've got less than 36 hours in which to do them, and there are DOZENS of little pieces of paper all over my room. I'm pretty sure Episode 46 will be posted in the middle of next week, but until I finish my civic duty, I can't be exactly sure. Just stay tuned to my website and I'll let you know the second I find it, kay? =D Gosh, you're all so understanding, I could smooch you.


	46. The Acorn and the Hollow Tree

**Disclaimer:** In a town called Perfect where there's a Walgreen's on every street corner, every author and authoress has their own set of Gundam pilots to love and to squeeze and to show off to all their friends. But we don't live anywhere near Perfect. *realizes she just ripped off a commercial to explain that she's not ripping off a tv show* Dangit.

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Forty-Six: The Acorn and the Hollow Tree

_"God gives us relatives; thank God, we can choose our friends." ~Addison Mizner, "The Cynic's Calendar" _

May 7th, 1902

Very early in the morning, someone got off the boat from America and took a long look at the port city of Bristol for only the second time. After collecting a few pieces of matching crocodile luggage, someone took a carriage to the train station and booked passage on the first train to London. Before most people had even woken up, someone was planning very carefully what to say and how to act when they reached their destination.

**********  
  


While Duo was racing up the stairs to the little nook off the dining room with a pitcher or freshly-squeezed orange juice, he passed Heero who was on his way down. "I've got it!" he said excitedly. "Just wait for me at the kitchen table and I'll be right back!"

Heero watched the chef speed the rest of the way up the stairs to supplement the family's breakfast, then smiled faintly, shook his head, and continued back down to the kitchen. They had issued a joint challenge to one another, to find each other a birthday that they could celebrate until their true birthdays were found out, if ever. The only stipulation was that the dates had to have some significance to the world and importance to their owners, and they had to be a surprise. Heero had taken less than a day in the manor's library to find an appropriate date for Duo's surrogate birthday, but Duo, not being well-versed in research and other intellectual skills, needed some extra time. Now finally, on the morning of the eighth day, he appeared ready to make his presentation, and Heero waited dutifully at the kitchen table to make the long-awaited exchange.

Having set the pitcher of orange juice before her Ladyship and the rest of the family, Duo charged back down the stairs and nearly knocked over the chair adjacent to Heero's when he sat down. With a grin five miles wide, he took a crumpled paper out of his pocket and smoothed it out in front of him. "Who goes first?"

Heero, who needed no paperwork to remember the date he chose, pushed aside his cup of coffee, sat back and folded his arms. "You'd better, before you explode."

"Ha! Okay..." Duo sat up and squared his shoulders several times, brushing his bangs away from his face and clearing his throat, for this was a momentous occasion that deserved the perfect delivery. "Now, I know you're very political-minded, and you're really in tune with world events, so I picked out something that I think you'll appreciate." He cleared his throat a fourth time, just for effect. "The date I chose for you is January 30th."

"January 30th," Heero repeated, committing it to memory. "And what does it mean?"

"January 30th of _this_ year was the signing of an alliance treaty between England and Japan," Duo said proudly. "This means there should be a lot more communication between here and there, more trade routes, more travel, more of everything...so if you ever want to see your home...it'll probably be a lot easier in the future."

Heero looked genuinely impressed. "That's _exceptional_."

"You like it?"

"Very much."

Duo beamed. "I worked really hard on that," he said. "Now, how 'bout mine?"

Heero straightened up and folded his hands on the table in a dignified way. "I know how much you enjoy summer, and how proud you are of your heritage, and that led me to choose...August the 5th."

"August the 5th," Duo repeated, testing the way it felt on his tongue. "Okay, and?"

"On August 5th, 1884, the cornerstone was laid for the Statue of Liberty."

Duo's eyes bulged. "Aw, _cool!!_"

"And I felt that you laid the cornerstone for a better life when you decided to stay here instead of running away," Heero concluded solemnly. "You like it?"

"I _love_ it! Thank you!" He reached over and hugged his friend tightly, and Heero eagerly returned the embrace. "This is so great! That means my birthday's coming up soon! We'll have to do something special, don't you think? Hey, we have to decide how old we are, too! How old do I look to you?"

Heero let go and shrank away from the flood of questions. He carefully judged Duo's appearance, as well as his own, and gauged them both against those of the people he'd met since arriving at the manor. "I'd say about...sixteen."

"Perfect! So we'll say we're sixteen..."

"Except that I've had my birthday already..."

"Which means you're..." Duo narrowed his eyes at his companion. "Wait a minute...how did you end up a year older than me? We've only been up for two hours this morning and you're seventeen already! No fair!"

Heero raised both eyebrows in a laughingly superior way and sipped his coffee to hide the beginnings of a smirk. The only thing that saved him from a playful punch in the arm was the sudden emergence of Trowa from the north wing of the basement. He was walking slowly and a little off-balance, and went straight past them both to the back door leading outside. Duo and Heero could clearly see that it was pouring with rain, as it had been since they got up that morning, but Trowa didn't seem to notice, and shuffled outside without even putting his coat on.

The pair at the table looked at each other, then out the window at Trowa. Heero put down his coffee quietly. "Three...two...one."

"Augh!" Trowa ran back inside, right on cue, and shook the rain off, shivering and hopping around on the kitchen floor. If he wasn't fully awake before, he certainly was now. He scattered raindrops all over the room with a vigorous shake of his head, then unleashed his ire upon the two do-nothings at the table. "Why didn't you _stop_ me if you knew it was raining!?"

Heero blinked, wondering where this nasty mood was coming from. "You seemed to know what you were doing. Who are we to question?"

"Yeah, lighten up!" Duo said. "It's not our fault you didn't look out the window first!"

Trowa let that sink in, then heaved a sigh and sat down opposite the boys. "I'm sorry I snapped, I just.....I haven't been getting much sleep lately." He propped his head up on one arm and made no effort to brush aside his bangs, now that they were sopping wet and plastered to the side of his face. "Must be making me edgy."

"Not to mention dozy," the chef added. "You didn't look all that swift just now."

"I'm not." Finally, Trowa swished his hair back so he could see the two of them clearly. "If I tell you something, will you both promise not to tell Quatre? Only I don't want to hurt his feelings."

The pair looked at each other, then pulled their chairs closer and leaned forward.

Again, Trowa sighed. "Okay, well...I knew a short time after we met that Quatre was a highly religious person, and I didn't mind that. He gets up very early every day for his morning prayers, and I've gotten so used to it now that I sleep right through it, and he tries to be quiet since we're always sharing a room." He heaved out another heavy breath and ran a hand through his hair, shaking loose a few more droplets of rain. "But now there's _seven_ of them! Seven people all getting up at four in the morning, laying out mats all over the floor and chanting in Arabic! It's not that I object to what they're doing, it's just that once I'm up, I'm up for good! I can't get back to sleep for a long time, and sometimes I'm up until midnight working, so I need every hour I can get! Without enough sleep...I don't know, I just feel spaced-out, and I'm probably cranky too."

"No kidding," Duo said dryly.

Trowa shrugged, halfway admitting that he wasn't his usual charming self. "I was on my way out to the stables to try and get some sleep there. I'm falling to pieces, but I can't let Quatre know, because he'll just blame himself, and I really don't want that."

Heero got up from the table, walked over to a tall upturned metal canister in the corner, took an umbrella out of it, and gave it to Trowa. "We won't say anything about it."

"Yeah, go on, have a snooze," Duo said. "If he asks where you are, we'll stall him until you get back."

Trowa took the umbrella and looked tired, but grateful. "Thanks, guys. If there's an emergency, though, I'll be in the...the...y'know, that..." He sleepily mimed a structure high off the ground and filled with crinkly straw-like stuff.

"Hayloft," Duo and Heero said in unison.

"Yeah." With his last ounce of wakefulness, he went back out the door, opened the umbrella on the third try, and disappeared into the distance. The unforgiving rain continued to pelt down upon him like the proverbial bathwater of all the saints and apostles, but he kept going. Heero and Duo promised each other that very minute that if either one did something to annoy the other, they should get it out in the open as quickly as possible, before one of them was marching out to the stables in the rain.

**********  
  


Sometime around mid-morning, someone with matching crocodile luggage stepped off the train in Victoria Station and took a bit of time to look around and see how the place had changed, if at all. On that very platform, the troubles ended and the troubles began in the same day, many years ago...but today, new opportunities awaited. After a moment's reflection, someone with matching crocodile luggage took a piece of thin gray paper out of their bag and showed it to a carriage driver for hire, and soon, that someone was on their way to a very prestigious London address.

**********  
  


The past several days had been most difficult for Relena, not just because of her loss, but also because of the way her whole routine was disrupted. She somehow felt out of sync with the rest of the world, even when she went out into town on a day trip or invited a few of her girlfriends over for tea, and longed for something more useful to do. It was for that reason that she struck out from the security of her bedroom suite and went looking for Otto. She found him, poring over a book of accounts in the library, and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Otto, there's no writing paper left in my desk. Do we have more?"

The house steward look up hopefully, as writing letters might have been construed as a move towards normalcy. "Plenty, m'lady. May one ask who you intend to write to?"

Relena clasped her hands daintily and followed him around as he traced the route to the storeroom where the embossed Bridlewood stationery was kept. "I'm a bit bored, and Dorothy's out for the day, so I thought it's about time I held a dinner party, to get me out of these terrible doldrums. I need to get back to doing what I'm good at, or I'm never going to feel quite right again. Maybe if I just had a few couples over for an evening, I'd feel as if I were doing something useful instead of wallowing in self-pity."

"I agree in principle, m'lady, but don't you think a dinner party right now would be a bit ambitious? Not to mention inappropriate...if we take what Mr. Marlowe says at face value, we ought to be in mourning, still."

They stopped at the storeroom, and Relena continued to think out loud while Otto fetched the paper. "I've decided that as long as no one has recovered Milliardo's body, the possibility remains that he might still be alive, and even if he were truly gone, he wouldn't want me to stop living."

Otto felt uncomfortable listening to his delicate charge speak about death in such unsweetened terms, but didn't object. He gave her a small stack of writing paper and some matching envelopes, and shut the storeroom up again. "All the same, why don't you start a little smaller than a full dinner party, say...one or two people?"

"How can I choose just one or two people from my entire address book?" Relena scoffed. "It's difficult enough just choosing enough to fill the dining room and no more! There's nobody I can invite alone that won't make someone else jealous because they weren't invited, except a very few people I promised myself I'd never invite back unless I had to! And I don't just want to do this for the sake of entertaining people, I need something to organize! I'm at my absolute best when I'm organizing something, and one person's worth of organization isn't going to fill the void..." As her speech wound down, her eyes lowered, and she seemed less exuberant than before. "Actually...I don't know how many people I can invite that haven't already called in the last two weeks to express their condolences. I'd just love to be with people who have something else to talk about besides the war."

Otto looked sombre as well. "I'm afraid there's not many of those left, m'lady...the ideal dinner guest simply isn't going to drop onto your front doorstep as easy as that."

No sooner had he uttered the words than the doorbell rang, and being desperate for any kind of human contact, Relena quickly scampered out to the front hall to see who it was. Otto followed out of general interest, and they both found Hilde opening the door and stepping aside so her Ladyship could greet the mid-morning guest. Relena very nearly stopped breathing when she beheld the magnificent figure that had come to visit her. It was a tall, tanned, glamourous woman with deep reddish-brown shoulder length hair, fetching angular features, and a rusty red brocade travelling dress that simply screamed wealth and good taste. From the top of her wide-brimmed hat to the soles of her high-heeled leather boots, she looked like a million dollars. Relena had never seen her before, not at a single one of London's society parties. "Are you Lady Peacecraft?" the woman said in a low, rich voice. She didn't sound British at all.

Trembling with anticipation, Relena stepped forward and smiled. "Yes, I am. May I be of assistance?"

"I certainly hope so," the stranger answered. "I happen to be looking for my son, and I was told I could find him in your house.....my name is Fiona Maxwell."

**********  
  


"...but it's something to think about, right?" Duo was saying as he sliced cucumber for that afternoon's sandwich supply. "It's probably the same distance to Japan whichever direction we head out in, so we could start in New York and hit every major city all the way out to the west coast, and then there's gotta be a boat from there..."

"We'd have to be sure of that before we travel three thousand miles in the wrong direction," Heero mused. "Of course, at this point, it's all academic."

"Sure nice to dream, though...and it's _really_ nice to know where you come from. That's why I kind of envy you," Duo admitted.

Heero looked up from his forks, knives, spoons, and silver polish with mild surprise. "We _both_ know what country we came from."

"Yeah, but your country's a lot smaller! You've got less square footage to search!"

They both indulged in a quiet chuckle and went back to their work. It was just a little bit of harmless daydreaming, after all; without a massive salary from Lord Jeffrhyss, it would take them years to save up enough money to travel to the lands of their birth. Still, it was something they both wanted to do, deep down, and in a way, everything they did in the name of justice, a clean house, and a well-fed family was just to pass the time until their real lives began.

They were doing a pretty good job of passing time, too, until Hilde came shooting down the stairs, screaming at the top of her lungs. "_Duo!! DUO!_ Drop what you're doing _right now!_"

Duo obediently dropped the paring knife and frowned. "Don't tell me. They've changed their minds, and now they want smoked salmon. I _knew_ this was going to happen if I skipped over the fishmonger's to go to the candy store!"

Hilde didn't stop for explanations, but tore across the kitchen and grabbed Duo by the arm, tugging fiercely. "Get upstairs, will you!?"

"What's wrong?" he squeaked out.

"Nothing, just _move!!_"

She sounded more than serious, enough to coax Heero away from his polishing and follow them up the main stairs, though amazingly, he couldn't match Hilde's speed. She forced Duo to gallop up the steps two at a time and then shoved him down the hall, past the dining room and towards the front door with such force that he nearly tripped twice. There were three voices coming from the foyer, only two of which Duo recognized. When he sped out of the hall and skidded to halt just in front of the grand staircase, everyone stopped talking and looked at him tensely. Standing next to Relena and Otto...was a stranger.

The stranger looked directly at Duo with her white-gloved hands folded at waist level, and nobody moved while they sized each other up. Hilde pulled Heero off to the side, out of the way of what she expected would be one of those moments that never repeats itself. Even Otto and Relena seemed to shy away from the scene, and Duo couldn't figure out why, until he really, _really_ looked at the stranger. She was a tall, strong woman with an austere, angular face, and she was forty if she was a day, but something about her looks and general manner made Duo curious to know more. He leaned forward an inch, feet still glued to their respective spots, and studied her from head to foot, ending with her eyes and lingering on them. The woman smiled, seeing the child she once knew in his grown-up face, and took a step towards him, her high heels clomping on the hardwood floor with a distinctive echo. Duo knew that sound. He inhaled sharply, eyes wide.

Unafraid of breaking the trance that engulfed the room, the woman spoke softly but confidently in a clear American voice. "Hello, darling."

Duo shuddered and felt his throat tighten to unconsciously reproduce the voice of a small child, lost and alone in a train station with the entire world stepping over him to get where they were going, never stopping, never helping, just walking away. ".....Mom?"

Mrs. Maxwell opened her arms and reached out to her baby boy, and he flew into her embrace, throwing his own arms around her, though she was still much taller than he. Duo had envisioned this moment over and over again as he went to sleep in a rickety apple crate, but it didn't feel the way he imagined it would. He felt cold all over, and he didn't cry. Instead of relief, he felt a vague, undefinable fear, but his good sense told him that he was being given a valuable second chance at having a family, and he should be happy.

Standing off to the side, Heero didn't know what to think, but felt slightly uncomfortable watching. This woman was threatening to replace him on Duo's list of priorities, so Heero's subconscious was anxiously waiting for her to make a mistake or say something inappropriate, as if he was looking for a legitimate reason to dislike her. Everyone else in the room thought it was lovely to see mother and son reunited at last, and were perfectly quiet as the two pulled apart and gazed at each other across a chasm of eleven wasted years.

With a relieved smile, Mrs. Maxwell squeezed Duo's thin hands and exhaled sharply. "I wasn't sure if you'd recognize me, so I brought these just in case." She let go and dipped one hand into the dainty jewelled handbag hanging off her shoulder by a thin black strap, pulling out a small book with a brightly-embroidered cover. "I've been saving these for a long time. They're yours now."

She held the book out, and Duo carefully took it, flipping it open to the first page with a look of wonder. It was a pocket-sized photo album, filled with sepia tone renditions of Mrs. Maxwell, her husband, and a small boy. Duo's lips curled into a smile as he peered at the child's gleeful face and impish grin. The photos seemed to be irrefutable proof of the woman's identify, and thus, of his own.

"...I remember those clothes!" Duo gasped, pointing to the little knit sweater and short pants ensemble he was wearing in the first photo. "I grew out of them in the orphanage, and they had to give me something bigger out of the charity bin." He studied the man standing next to them, but he really only knew him from the knees down. "Is that my Dad? Did he come with you? Am I gonna get to see him?"

Mrs. Maxwell fought hard to disguise a distasteful frown. "Yes, that's your father, but he couldn't be bothered showing up. Just forget about him, darling." There was an edge to her voice that both Duo and Heero noted and filed away, but Mrs. Maxwell quickly took control of the conversation again, before either of them could ask her about it. "It's his loss anyway, if he didn't want to see how handsome you've grown," she said, tilting Duo's face up with a finger tucked under his chin.

For just a little while, Duo was content to be a sucker for flattery, and he smiled. "How long are you staying? You've gotta meet everyone here! You're not leaving until you do! Promise?"

The woman peeled off her white gloves and looked coyly around the lavish front hall of the manor, appreciating every piece of fabulous decoration that met her eyes. "Well...I suppose I'll have to find a hotel, first...and the more inexpensive it is, the longer I'll be _able_ to stay..."

Only a month ago, Relena would not have believed the audacity of the words about pop out of her own mouth, but regardless of what she thought of Duo as a person, here was a well-presented, giftwrapped guest whom she could entertain and talk to about anything in the world except the war. It was just what she wanted. "You simply _must_ stay here, Mrs. Maxwell, I won't have you wasting away in a hotel while we have the most exquisite guest rooms in London."

"Oh, please, call me Fiona," the woman purred at Relena. "That's _most_ kind of you, my dear. And what a lovely house this is! Did you decorate it yourself?"

"Oh, no, most of it was done years ago. Do you really like it?"

"It's simply scrumptious!"

"Thank you! And may I say, I just adore your dress!"

"How sweet! And yours is absolutely charming!"

Duo was too busy looking at all the old photos to notice what was happening between Fiona and Relena, but Heero was mortified to discover that Duo's mother was both Dorothy and Lady Une put together, not to mention twice their combined ages. Not really wanting to see any more, he turned to Hilde and whispered in her ear, dragging her out of the dreamy-eyed state of bliss in which she was firmly ensnared. "Go round up the rest of the housemaids for introductions. I'll get the other two."

Hilde sighed happily at the scene, then whirled around and skipped up the stairs to carry out her instructions. Heero disappeared down the hall, and down the stairs to the basement, where he gave a quick summary of events to Quatre, then went out back to the stables to fetch Trowa. Within ten minutes, the staff was gathered into a tidy horizontal line across the foot of the grand staircase. Relena and Fiona were still chatting it up, while Duo and Otto were strangely omitted from the conversation. The chef had exhausted his supply of photos and now was just waiting for a little bit of acknowledgement from his mother, but she was having too much fun with her Ladyship.

"...and the plaster sconces on either side of the doors were added in 1886. That's real twenty-four karat gilding on those!" Relena bragged.

"Lovely!" Just as Mrs. Maxwell was admiring the architecture, Treize came prancing down the stairs wearing a red smoking jacket, wondering what all the noise was about. He pushed his way through the line of servants to get a closer look and hopefully introduce himself to the stranger, but when she looked over her shoulder and saw a tall, youngish man in what looked like a red uniform to her very casual glance, she pointed him to her luggage. "Porter, take my bags up to my room, if you please." She turned straight back to Relena while Treize fumed. "Now, I _do_ like those curtains, are they imported?"

Treize cleared his throat in as dignified a manner as he could muster after such an insult. "Madam, I am not the porter. I am a Count."

Fiona turned around and looked him curiously in the eye. All the servants were shocked to realized that she was just as tall as he was. "Oh really? And what do you count, young man?"

Before Treize had a chance to explode, Relena rushed over and clamped lovingly onto his arm. "This is my uncle, Count Khushrenada!" she said through a golden smile. "He's one of the most powerful and influential men in Europe!"

Fiona gave him an icy smile and patted his cheek. "Well, isn't that special." She brushed elegantly past him and went to the end of the receiving line in front of the staircase. "Now, who are all these nice young people?" She began with the housemaids and exchanged curtseys with them as Relena introduced them one by one. Treize scowled and retreated to the drawing room. Duo and Heero looked at each other with worried glares. This wasn't at all what they had in mind when they traded daydreams about what their mothers were like.

Further down the line, Fiona was introduced to Quatre, then Trowa. They both shook her hand cordially, and Quatre used the opportunity while they were in physical contact to send a spiritual probe shooting through her system. He came up with a peculiar blank. After she had passed them by and was talking to Otto and Heero, Trowa leaned over and whispered carefully. "Is she telling the truth?"

Quatre stared straight ahead, strangely disturbed. "If she isn't, I can't tell."

"Why don't we pick out a guest room for you, Fiona?" Relena said, once the introductions were finished. She clapped her hands twice and addressed the housemaids with great formality. "Girls, take Mrs. Maxwell's luggage up to the second floor, would you?" Relena and the maids whisked all traces of Fiona away up the stairs, and Otto followed, leaving Duo in a corner clutching his photo album, and a trio of boys at the foot of the stairs, comparing notes.

"What do you think of her?" Trowa asked quietly.

"I'm not sure," Quatre replied, "but there's something terribly cold about her."

Heero's observations were much more objective. "When I shook her hand, I saw a pale circle around her wrist, the size of a watchband. It's as if she's been wearing a wristwatch for years and suddenly stopped."

"Those watches are _expensive_," Quatre gasped. "Why wouldn't she be wearing it if the rest of her clothes are brand new?"

"And why show up now if she's had the money to travel all along?" Trowa wondered.

"Did you see the way she levelled Treize?"

"Yeah, wasn't that weird? She's so--"

Heero hushed them both with a raised hand, as he noticed Duo standing alone in the middle of the floor, looking forlornly up at the stairs. He was feeling a lot of strong emotions, but the one that made the clearest impression on Quatre's sixth sense was disappointment. Duo and his mother were nothing like each other. Concerned at the way he stood and stared, Heero went over to him. "Are you alright?"

Duo woke up from his wide-eyed sleep and smirked at Heero, trying to laugh it off with false bravado. "Yeah, sure...'course I am. Mom's back. Everything's terriff." His voice faded to a whisper towards the end, then he shrugged and held his photo album a little tighter. "Still, never mind...I'd better get up there and make sure she's comfy." Tossing a final smile to the others, he trudged up the grand staircase and vanished from sight, but they could easily tell that he wasn't alright, and that he would put on a happy face for as long as he could while he came to terms with what sort of woman he'd been born to.

**********  
  


Not too far away, Lady Une was entertaining Dorothy at her sprawling estate and listening to the girl's latest status report on the Winner family. On the Persian rug in the middle of the parlour, Anna Maria got reacquainted with one of her kittens, which had been sold to Lady Une at a significant discount, while their owners hobnobbed over fancy imported coffee and biscuits.

"How many do you think there are?" Une asked in between sips of premium Columbian blend.

"At least two," Dorothy replied. "Probably three or more, but I can't imagine very many girls living in that little bedchamber, especially with Quatre and the stable lad bunking there too."

"Are you absolutely positive they're his sisters and not some trollops he scraped out of the gutter?"

Dorothy wrinkled her nose at the idea, not because it would be immoral, but because it would mean she was no closer to finding a clue to unlocking the Winner family wallet. "No, they _must_ be his relations. You didn't see the clothes they were wearing. Definitely foreign."

Une put down her coffee as her fluffy little cat climbed up on the table beside her to have her belly scratched. She transferred the cat to her lap and obliged it, considering her role in Dorothy's adventure. "Well, you seem to have a fine grasp of the facts, so I'm not sure what you hope to get from me."

"Oh, your _advice_, of course, m'lady," Dorothy crooned. "I'm ever so fortunate to have you as a mentor, and since you do plan on taking a cut of the money at the end, perhaps you could see your way to developing a plan to get it...because you're _so_ must more clever than I am."

Une smiled appreciatively at her blonde bootlick and cuddled her cat a bit closer. "It's very simple. Each and every member of Quatre's family that lives is a stumbling block between you and the money. If they are all living in your Relena's basement in total peace, they must not want to cause each other harm, and that's what you'll have to change."

"How?"

"Any number of ways, my dear. Turn them against each other, reveal their location to the rest of the family...or if you run out of ideas, eliminate them yourself."

Dorothy shrank a bit in her chair. "Um...could...could you clarify that a bit...please?"

Une sighed in annoyance, put down the cat, and picked up her coffee. "If you still intend to back Quatre through this contest of wills, then _all_ of his remaining sisters must die, and if they won't do it themselves..." She raised an eyebrow at Dorothy's reaction while she sipped, then grinned with venom. "They say most fatal accidents occur in the home..."

Suddenly feeling a tightness in her throat, Dorothy sat back and began some deep breathing to quell the attack of nausea that was threatening to ruin her afternoon. If she had to stick to her original plan, bumping off Quatre was something she could handle quite easily. He was only a man, and men had a terrible tendency to do the most ridiculous things, risking life and limb just for the sake of a pretty face. Arranging for his accidental death was nothing compared to deliberately murdering several members of his immediate family. That would constitute a pre-meditated killing spree. If she charmed the judge, she'd get fifty years in Holloway. If she didn't charm the judge, she'd be hanged. It was beginning to seem like an awfully one-sided partnership. "M'lady...I hate to sound like a snivelling kvetch, but...if I'm going to have to stick my neck out to murder some of these girls, couldn't you take a few of them on yourself? You claim to want a cut of the money, and yet I'm the one who's going to be doing all the work!"

"Dorothy, _darling_, if you want to kill them, kill them. Keep the money for yourself, it matters less to me than it does to you. I can survive well enough without it...it's your own survival I'm thinking of now." Ever the polite hostess, she lifted the coffee pot and held it towards Dorothy's empty cup. "Refill?"

Dorothy winced in deep thought. "Y-yes, please."

"If you can think of a non-lethal way to get what you want, naturally I'll be right there beside you, bearing my share of the burden," Une purred as she poured out second helpings, "but do you really expect me to jeopardize all this? My home, my name, my prestigious lifestyle? I'm not that desperate yet, but if you are, then I won't stand in your way. Biscuit?" She put the coffee pot down and held out the plate of biscuits gracefully.

"...thank you..." Dorothy took a chocolate-coated digestive with her left hand and held the coffee cup in her right, but her arms were frozen. The shrewdness of her companion was so strong that it blocked all commands sent between her limbs and her brain, meaning that all she could do was sit there and marvel at the infinitely devious strategical mind that was Lady Une. For some strange reason, Dorothy felt her appetite slip away for her rather quickly after that.

**********  
  


For that evening's dinner, Duo had prepared partridge pie and Crosshaven dumplings, with a vegetable casserole and freshly-baked rolls, but he was having a difficult time enjoying his own creation. The chef sat next to his mother at the formal dining room table, across from Relena and Treize, with an unusually quiet Dorothy and Otto to their left. All during the tour of the house, and all during dinner, the conversation was dominated by Fiona and Relena, who chattered and gabbed more in a few hours than most people did in a week, and Duo was beginning to feel left out.

"...and then we invested in a coal company that went belly-up, which wasn't one of my husband's brightest moves, let me tell you," Mrs. Maxwell was saying as she described her life in detail to Relena. "We took what was left of the profits, scraped together a portfolio on Wall Street, and thanks to my brilliant economic sense, we ended up buying a very successful hotel chain a year later. It's a pity that my husband didn't have a clue about how to actually _run_ a hotel, or we might not have gone into receivership two years after that."

"Oh, how awful," Relena cooed in sympathy. Actually, she was quite enjoying hearing a bit of gossip that her friends would never catch wind of. In a way, she felt privileged to be privy to the economic dealings of a very prominent American family such as the Maxwells. "Is that why your husband didn't come along with you? Because he was busy looking after the businesses?"

Fiona cackled bitterly. "No, no, _Mister_ Maxwell and I are no longer living communally."

Duo looked up from his mostly-intact partridge dish with a terribly sad face. "You mean you're divorced?"

Moving straight into motherly mode, Fiona patted Duo's head sweetly and smiled. "No, darling, we've just had some disagreements over the years. It has absolutely nothing to do with you, so don't worry your handsome head about it." She turned to Relena just as quickly, as if Duo wasn't even there. "He _begged_ me for a divorce so he could marry his cheap floozy from Indiana, but I wasn't about to give up fifty percent of our assets just so he could treat his bit of stuff to a trip around the world!"

Staring back down at his plate, Duo thought about how much he disliked the way Mrs. Maxwell spoke so disparagingly about his father while he wasn't there to defend himself, then decided he shouldn't be ungrateful of his mother's presence just because of a few misplaced comments. He did notice, however, that she was still wearing her wedding band. It looked like real gold too.

"Still, what are our lives worth if we don't carry on, right? Some men are just a waste of space. Not worth getting upset over 'em." With a graceful swooping motion, Fiona picked up the nearest bottle of white wine and poured herself another glass. Only Duo and Otto were keeping count by now, and they looked worriedly at each other from opposite corners of the table; that was her fourth, and they hadn't even finished the entrée yet.

"That's _so_ true," Relena chimed in. "They won't change no matter how hard we try to change them, so we might as well trade up."

"Hear, hear." Fiona and Relena raised their glasses and clinked them together to salute the fine old tradition of discarding any man who couldn't toe the line. Duo just kept his head down for the rest of the meal. Fiona never addressed him anyway, except to call him 'darling' or 'sweetheart' or some other sugary affectation, and to ask him something totally benign like how much he enjoyed living in a big fancy house with such pretty wallpaper. It was a mercy when dessert was served, because it theoretically meant that Duo could retreat to the kitchen and confer with his associates about the turn his day was taking, but Relena swiftly took even that small comfort away by suggesting that Duo finish showing his mother around the rest of the estate, to which he could hardly say no and appear to be a loving son.

To complete the tour, Duo showed his mother the conservatory, the back gardens, the stables, and then when it began to get chilly out, brought her back inside and showed her around the second floor, where her guest room was just a few doors down from his. "...and this is _my_ room," he said, opening the door wide enough to have a look. He didn't intend to bring her all the way in, for she might have seen Heero's clothes hanging in the wardrobe and thought the worst of them both, but she barged right in anyway, eager to see how her baby lived.

"Why, it's charming," she said with a voice that betrayed her true thoughts. It was small, old, not very brightly decorated, and too close to the stairs. "You seem to have done splendidly for yourself. You really didn't need your father and myself at all, did you?"

Duo gritted his teeth angrily, then searched the room frantically for a distraction to keep him from saying something regrettable. Exactly on cue, Shadow poked her head out from under the bed and meowed, wondering what was going on. Duo scooped her up and sat on the wooden chest at the foot of the bed. "And this is Shadow, my cat." A pet was just more 'evidence' that his life wasn't that terrible after all, but he couldn't afford to picky about his distractions.

Mrs. Maxwell sat down on the chest as well and smiled. "Oh, what an adorable little face, and such perky little ears! I love cats..." She reached out a hand to pat Shadow's head, but the cat shrank away from her, flattening her perky little ears against her head and grumbling.

Duo sat her down on the chest between them and stroked her back to calm her down. "C'mon, now, this is my Mom. She's alright, so be nice." Again, Mrs. Maxwell tried to touch Shadow, but she hissed violently, bared her fangs and scratched the woman across the back of her hand. Mrs. Maxwell yelped in pain and clutched her injured flesh, and Shadow bounded off the bed and raced out the door before Duo could stop her. "Shadow!" he yelled after her, but she wasn't coming anywhere near the strange woman ever again. "Geez, I'm sorry," Duo told his mother, head down. "I dunno what's gotten into her. Usually she's so friendly!"

Mrs. Maxwell rubbed the back of her hand and glared at the empty doorway. "It's alright, sweetheart...she'll have plenty of time to get used to me."

Around the corner from the bedroom door, where Heero had been quietly following and listening, Shadow came tearing out of the room like a furry gray bullet and leapt up into the butler's arms as soon as she saw him. He cradled her close and rubbed her neck, breathing very calmly into her ear to settle her down. Even with his underused imagination, he could guess what happened, and he had to agree with Duo--it was highly unusual. On the other hand, Trowa had once told him that intelligent animals never do anything so dramatic without good reason, and Shadow was one of the most intelligent four-legged creatures Heero had ever met, so she must have felt justified in her actions. It made one wonder.

Back in the bedroom, Duo tried once again to have a personal conversation that was uninterrupted by money talk and girlish gossip. "Mom?"

"Yes, angel?"

"I've been waiting all afternoon to talk to you..."

"Well, you can talk to me now, darling. Go ahead."

For hours, Duo had been rehearsing what to say, and now the words were gone. It took several moments to get even a fraction of them back, but it was enough to start a dialogue. "I really wanna know what happened when I was little.....you know...that little vacation we took that turned into a permanent change of residence?"

Mrs. Maxwell looked immediately uncomfortable, and stood. "Mummy would _love_ to talk about that right now, dearest, but she's very tired and needs her beauty sleep." She bent down and kissed him quickly on the forehead. He winced as her unnecessarily strong perfume assaulted his elven nose, and watched her leave. Out in the hall, Heero ducked into the nearest available doorway with Shadow, and stayed there until he heard the woman clomp past along the hardwood floor to her own room where her matching crocodile luggage awaited. He crept back over to the bedroom door and entered on tip toe, scanning the room from right to left. Duo was sitting at the bureau, looking at himself in the mirror; he looked weak, and haunted.

Heero shut the door quietly and put Shadow down so she could roam around as normal. He stood behind Duo's chair and put both hands on the boy's shoulders. "Feeling any better?"

Duo shut his eyes for a moment, felt dizzy, then opened them again. "You remember that big tube tunnel mounted on its side at the Fun House on Coney Island with the pink and orange spiral stripes? The one that kept spinning while you had to walk through it?"

"Vividly."

"I feel like I'm in one of those." Duo swung a tired elbow up on the bureau and propped his chin up in his hand. "I don't know where I am or what's happening to me. She's my Mom, and I'm supposed to love her...and I guess I sorta do.....but I'm just not sure that I _like_ her."

Heero's gaze lowered. "I know."

"She's a drinker, she's snobby, she's not very nice..."

"And she doesn't resemble you in any way," Heero finished for him, opening the photo album with one hand and laying it flat in front of the mirror. "Inside _or_ outside."

Duo made a closer examination of the first picture, with both his parents in it. Heero had a point; Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell were both tall and broad-shouldered, with sharp, linear faces and dark eyes, a marked contrast to Duo's heart-shaped face, shimmering violet eyes and smaller stature. Nevertheless, they were definitely the couple who brought him to England; the first photo was taken on the Staten Island ferry, and the last one was taken in front of Buckingham Palace. Duo had a lot of pent-up anger over his abandonment that wasn't getting an outlet, but part of him was relieved to know that he hadn't been forgotten. He had something today that he didn't have before, and how long he kept it now was up to him.

"I'm going to work hard to get to know her," Duo stated firmly to his reflection. "We might've left things badly years ago, and granted, they haven't improved a whole lot today, but I'm not going to let that discourage me. I'm being given a second chance, and I'm going to make the most of it."

Heero wanted to say something reassuring, but couldn't think of anything, and absentmindedly began stroking Duo's hair instead, staring at the mirror in a similar fashion. Duo relaxed and leaned back, smiling with closed eyes and a lighter heart for having Heero there to comfort him, but Heero was already in another world and barely paying attention. _If this woman does anything...anything to hurt you...I just don't know what I'll do._ In any case, a certain degree of violence would be expected.

**********  
  


Several doors down the hall, Mrs. Maxwell made the rounds inspecting her guest suite, and found it to be more than satisfactory. The furnishings were exceptional, and the décor was quaint in an old Georgian sort of way. She found that she liked it, and flopped on the four-poster bed after unlacing her high-heeled boots.

Propping herself up on a stack of lacy pillows, she twirled the wedding band around on her finger and smirked to herself. _Sorry, Clayborne, darling...looks like I got here first._

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Forty-Seven: Things change between Duo and his mother as a second surprise visitor is thrown into the mix, leading to a high-speed dash around London that leaves a trail of feverishly strong emotions in its wake._

This is almost soap opera material, isn't it? =^_~= And it's not over yet! Be sure to pop a big bag of popcorn on May 15th, when the saga continues!


	47. Maxwell's Demons

**Warnings:** Language. Angst. Violence. Zero-ness. That about covers it...

**Disclaimer:** In a town called Perfect where there's a Walgreen's on every street corner, every author and authoress has their own set of Gundam pilots to love and to squeeze and to show off to all their friends. But we don't live anywhere near Perfect. *realizes she just ripped off a commercial to explain that she's not ripping off a tv show* Dangit.

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Forty-Seven: Maxwell's Demons

_"Poverty wants much; but avarice, everything." ~Publius Syrus _

May 15th, 1902

Relena was rarely one to turn her nose up at an enthusiastic guest, but to be perfectly honest, she was getting just the teensiest bit tired of Mrs. Maxwell. Her topics of conversation didn't seem to variate from money and influence, and she had been recently preoccupied with asking Relena all sorts of questions about getting around in the city. Several times, Relena had offered the use of her personal carriage if there was someplace she needed to go, but each time, it was politely refused. The poor girl just didn't know what to make of it, and when Marcus suddenly turned up on the doorstep asking if she'd like to be whisked away to spend the day on his estate and meet his family, she jumped at the chance.

Tingling all over from the boy's exceedingly pleasant spontaneity, Relena put on a jolly floral travelling dress with a fringed silk shawl and skipped merrily out to his awaiting carriage, giddy with anticipation. They drove east, out of the city limits and away from the persistent London fog, to a suburb in Essex county in which sat a charming Tudor estate, comparable in size to Relena's own Sutherby Hall in Hampshire, but with a great deal more activity. There were gardeners, grounds keepers, a whole team cleaning the outside of the building, two men exclusively employed in trimming dead wood off trees, and another three who did nothing but rake the gravel back onto the path when it got scattered onto the grass.

Relena was truly in awe. "I can't believe how many servants you have for one house! We've only just been managing with a skeleton staff, but if we had this sort of help, Bridlewood would sparkle every day, from top to bottom!"

Marcus chuckled with false humility. "Well, I won't lie to you...Daddy relegated a few workers from the home farm to tidy up the place because I knew you were coming."

Relena sat back and gave him a coy smile. "You only asked me this morning, and I might have said no," she reminded him.

"Might have, but didn't," Marcus said with a grin. "I must confess something to you m'lady. I have psychic abilities." Relena laughed, and Marcus had to fight himself not to laugh as well. "It's true! At this exact same time yesterday, I awoke from a dream and had a vision...a vision of you saying, 'Why, _yes_, Marcus darling, I'd simply _adore_ a trip to the country to meet your parents!'" On the last phrase, he clasped his hands, batted his eyelashes, and crooned away in a girlish falsetto that made Relena giggle even more.

While she laughed, the second part of what he said struck her, and she gasped. "Meet your parents!? I'm meeting your parents today!?"

"Naturally," Marcus purred in his most confident tone. "I know how you panic over social engagements, that's why I sprung it on you quickly so you wouldn't have time to work yourself up into a hysterical frenzy over what to wear. Brilliant, I thought."

Relena gave his arm a little slap and smiled. "You're incorrigible." But then, that was what she liked about him. Really, _really_ liked about him.

The carriage dropped them off at the front steps, guarded on either side by two imposing stone lions, and right on cue, Lord and Lady Wyndham emerged and pranced elegantly down to meet their son and his Lady fair. Marcus made some very grand introductions, and there was much bowing and curtseying throughout the land. His Lordship was tall and well-built, with a closely cropped salt-and-pepper beard and a fatherly smile, reminding Relena very much of her own dear father. His wife was equally charming in appearance, with fluffy hair the same tawny brown as her son's, drawn up into a pompadour with a pearled clasp surrounding the bun. She wore a simple lace tea gown and little jewellery, sharply in contrast to her husband's deep brown tweed suit and black riding boots. Relena couldn't help but be humbled by their very presence.

Lady Wyndham was the first to reach out to Relena on an intellectual level. "I do hope we have time to show you around the estate, my dear," she said in a posh but unassuming accent. "This house gets rather busy on weekdays. My husband teaches a small riding class some afternoons, and I'm hosting the weekly meeting of my bridge club for lunch. Do you play bridge?"

"Oh, yes indeed, M'lady," Relena said brightly.

Her Ladyship smiled. "Splendid! Perhaps you'd like to join us. If you blend in with the crowd well enough, I might be inclined to sponsor you for membership."

Relena beamed, but before she could verbally display her gratitude, another offer came flying at her from His Lordship. "Now, you cackling hens mustn't hog the poor girl all day! She might fancy joining my riding class instead! Do you ride, my dear?"

"Hang on, you two!" Marcus interrupted. "I wanted to take Miss Relena out for a boat ride on the river before tea. You know, the folk from the next town are having their toy ship regatta this afternoon, and I wouldn't want either of us to miss it!"

Lady Wyndham clucked her tongue at the boy. "Have you forgotten that you volunteered to help with the croquet match on the south lawn? It's the gentlemen staff versus the housemaids, and they were counting on you to referee."

They were all smiles as Relena's head spun with the myriad of possibilities. "My goodness...there's so much going on...I-I don't know what to choose!"

Lord Wyndham chuckled warmly. "That's the difficulty in living with the Wyndham family, child. There's always a million and one things to do, all of them wonderful!"

They graciously herded the speechless girl into the house for some light refreshments while she thought about how to spend her day. Compared to Bridlewood, it was a magical fairyland full of activity, and she was envious of the Wyndhams. They had an enormous, well-behaved staff that kept the estate in top condition and still had time for high-class leisurely pursuits, and the community breezed in and out constantly, bringing with them hobbies, events, chatter and home-baked treats from country ovens. It was the way Bridlewood had been a long time ago, in the elder Lady Peacecraft's day, and Relena found that she felt far more at home in a happily busy environment than she did in her dusty little hutch in West London. Right away, she felt like she belonged.

**********  
  


Duo had been trying very, very hard to get along with his mother and get to know her as a person, but it was turning out to be extremely taxing to his normally electrified spirit. He was being given all the reassurances of affection anyone could ever ask for, but what he really wanted were answers, and an apology wouldn't have gone amiss either. Under the pretense of challenging her to a game of cards, he cornered her in a second-floor games room overlooking the front of the house and attempted to get those answers.

They sat at a small card table in the corner of the room, surrounded by dark wood panelling and green wallpaper, with a dartboard to their right and a rack of pool cues to their left. As he cut the deck of cards between them, Duo noted that Fiona was still carrying her purse around; it seemed that she was never without it, as if it had been permanently welded to her arm. He thought that was a trifle odd, but ignored it for the time being. "Mom?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"When are we going to have a serious discussion about what happened when I was little?" As he spoke, the woman's face frosted over quickly, but Duo was at the end of his rope, and had to keep going. "You must still think I'm five years old, because you haven't sat down with me to have a real adult conversation once yet. I'm not trying to complain since you _did_ come all this way to see me, but I think I deserve an explanation."

Fiona slapped on a fake smile and shrugged her shoulders in a huffy, exasperated manner. "Accidents will happen, darling."

Duo gaped. "'Accidents will happen'? You left me in a train station! You went home and forgot about me! How do two normal, grown-up, even superficially-intelligent people leave their firstborn in a train station!?"

Fiona gritted her teeth through the smile. "I don't know, sugar. I suppose I thought you were with your father, and your father thought you were with me. I _told_ you we were having marital problems, so it shouldn't be that surprising that we didn't talk much after that vacation."

"Yeah, but still! Wouldn't either of you have been interested in seeing me for my birthday? Or Christmas? Then you each would have written to the other and found out that neither one of you had me!"

"I've got you now, sweetheart," the woman purred, reaching across the table to clasp his hands with both of hers. "Isn't that enough?"

Duo gazed longingly at her, wanting it to be true, but he really wasn't fooled that easily. He ripped his hands away, sending the cards flying in all directions to cover most of the table and some of the floor. "No, it's _not_ enough! You don't know what it was like for me, growing up all alone, bouncing from orphanage to orphanage with no home and no family! No law-fearing English family wanted to adopt an American kid in case there was an international custody fight down the line! I ended up running away because I couldn't take being the oldest boy in a home for abandoned toddlers and unwed mothers!" He sat back and folded his arms, frowning bitterly. "And stop calling me 'darling,' and all that other stuff too. I'm not a kid anymore. You grow up pretty fast on the streets, especially when you have to steal to eat and defend yourself against bigger kids with bigger appetites."

Digging out some specialties from her bag of tricks, Fiona got up and strode morbidly to the window, putting on her 'victim of severe depression' routine. "I should have guessed you'd regret seeing me in the end," she sighed miserably. "After all, I _was_ a terrible mother...and I'm probably just a terrible person to begin with..."

This time, Duo wasn't buying it. "Oh, no. You're not pulling that guilt-trip stuff on me. You've been doing that ever since you got here. Every time I try to get serious, you either treat me like a baby or manipulate me with guilt, and it's not going to work anymore! You owe me big time! You owe me for taking away my childhood, when I should've been living like you, in some fancy house with a huge yard and all the food you could eat, not sleeping in an alley and washing down stale bread with filthy rainwater!"

Fiona leaned against the window and sighed, showing her frustrated scowl only to the street below. "I know you're upset, angel, but you're just going to have to learn that life doesn't always turn ou--" She froze in mid-lecture as something in the street caught her eye and held onto it with a death grip. Striding up the front walk from a small carriage, slightly cloaked by the lingering fog of early morning, was a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark hair and an expensive suit covered by a trench coat. All the work she had been putting into Duo over the past week, slowly trying to endear herself to him with the hopes of eventually coaxing him to take a certain trip downtown with her, had just gone out the window. She couldn't wait for Duo to see her side of the financial story, she had to make that trip immediately. Furtively, she swallowed. "Darling, I'm a bit hungry after all this pleasant arguing. Couldn't we continue this downstairs in the kitchen? _Now_?" 

Very definitely caught off guard, Duo shrugged. "I...guess so..."

"Perfect." Fiona grabbed Duo by the arm and led him very quickly to the west stairs just as the doorbell rang. Instructing her son to ignore it and keep moving, she yanked him down two flights of narrow steps to the kitchen, but still didn't feel safe. "On second thought, it's such a beautiful day out, why don't we go for a ride somewhere?"

"Mom, what's going on?" Duo asked as calmly as he could.

"Nothing, dearest, I just think it'd be nice to get some sunshine."

Duo snorted out a laugh. "What sunshine? We've been fogged in since five this morning!"

"Still, let's go for a ride," Fiona insisted, pulling the boy towards the back door. "The air's probably fresher outdoors anyway, and a growing boy needs fresh air."

"But I can't leave! I've got work to do before dinner!"

It was of no consequence. Duo was just barely under the level of being forcibly dragged out the door, and couldn't figure out why, but out of overwhelming curiosity, he didn't protest too loudly. After all, maybe she realized what kind of attitude she had been displaying all week, and had a nice surprise waiting for him to make up for it. Maybe.

**********  
  


At the front door, Heero was confronting a visitor he wasn't too sure about. The tall dark stranger asked very pointedly to see a certain member of the staff, but the ever-alert butler wasn't about to let him into the family fold that easily. Things just weren't adding up here...and he didn't care for the man's attitude, either. "I'm afraid I can't interrupt him while he's working unless I know the reason for your intrusion," he said in his 'perfect spy' voice.

"You'll interrupt him, and you'll do it _now_," the man insisted with a very definite American accent.

Heero folded his hands behind his back and watched Hilde creep away out of the corner of his eye, knowing that she'd take care of informing Duo while Heero did all the stalling he could. The chef didn't need any more shocks to his system, in their opinion. "I'm sorry, I can't do that."

The broad-shouldered man huffed in annoyance and leaned forward in a menacing way. "Then can you tell me if a woman's been here to see him? A red-haired woman with too much makeup? Can you tell me _that_?" The boy just stared back at him with an icy-cold glare. The man was rapidly losing patience. "You're _useless_!" he snarled. "Let me talk to your manager!"

Heero continued to glare. "He's indisposed."

In the middle of their standoff, they heard a peculiar noise coming from the direction of the street, a quick, strong whistle that lifted in pitch and faded to nothing as it mingled with wooden wheels clattering on the cobblestones. The stranger tilted his head when he heard the whistle. It wasn't a London noise, it was a New York noise, and he knew it well. He rushed away from the door and down the front walk to have a hurried look around, and to the left, a hansom cab was stopped across the road facing south. Two lithe figures were climbing into it, and the stranger discovered that the thing he was searching for was right in front of him. He ran down the walk, jumped into his own hired carriage, and just as the hansom cab was pulling away, ordered his driver to pursue it.

Heero could only watch from the front step as the man's driver executed a sharp u-turn that made the two horses pulling the carriage whinny in protest, making up a two-vehicle parade travelling down Whittington Place at a tremendous speed. At the right hand corner of the house, he spotted Wufei, who had apparently seen Duo being pulled along and followed to investigate. Clad in his royal blue sleeveless shirt and billowy white workout pants, Wufei looked up at the front step with a questioning gaze, and Heero made a snap decision, pointing firmly down the road. "Follow them!" he shouted, and without a moment's hesitation, Wufei sprinted after the carriages and gave chase on foot. Almost immediately, a bell rang from somewhere in the house, calling Heero back to duty, and he was grateful that he finally had dependable allies to whom he could delegate such tasks.

**********  
  


The cab Mrs. Maxwell had so expertly hailed was a bit fancier than the usual model, and had a little glass window in the back, which was really a superfluous frill, as it was difficult enough trying to twist around to look through it while one had a wooden cabinet closed over one's lower half. Nevertheless, she twisted around and looked out that window every hundred feet or less, to see if they were being followed. To her dismay, the carriage she had seen lingering outside the manor was right on their tail, and closing fast, as it was being pulled by two horses while her vehicle had only one. She banged on the roof of their comfy cave and yelled at the driver. "Can't this thing go any faster!?"

The driver either didn't hear or chose not to, but Duo was in a far less forgiving mood. "Ma, this is ridiculous! I know something's wrong, so there's no point in hiding it! Just tell me what it is!"

Fiona went rummaging through her purse instead of answering right away, and pulled out a folded piece of paper bearing what looked like a hand-drawn map with driving directions. "You love your Mummy, don't you Pookybear?"

Duo winced and banged his head on the wall of the cab. "Yeah, yeah..."

"And you wouldn't let anything come between us, would you, darling?" She unfolded the paper on her lap with one hand and pulled her baby close in a tight hug with the other, not noticing the way he squirmed in her iron grip. "Ohhh, I'm so lucky to have such a wonderful, _loyal_ son like you!" In the same breath, she banged on the roof again, barking out instructions. "Next left, driver! And pick up the pace!"

Duo felt terribly uncomfortable in her embrace, and wriggled out of it at the first opportunity. Fiona barely noticed, and kept directing the poor fellow seated above them on which turn to take down what road, until they were halfway across town. Wondering what the hurry was, Duo looked over his shoulder and saw a carriage not far behind, with a man leaning partway out the window and yelling at his own driver. He turned back to his mother with worried eyes. "Who's that back there? Are we being followed?"

"Never mind that, sweetheart. Everything's going to be just fine."

That was the end of the conversation as far as either of them were concerned. Mrs. Maxwell continued to point the driver down narrower and narrower streets to some particular destination, hoping that the bulky carriage couldn't follow, but still it persisted. The two vehicles stuck together like a minuscule train rolling through the sidestreets of London, until the cab stopped outside a tallish building with a mass of people milling around it. The place looked vaguely familiar to Duo, but he didn't have an opportunity to think it over, as Fiona hastily told the driver to wait and then hauled her son forcibly out onto the road, running towards the building with a firm grip on his arm.

Not two seconds later, the carriage with the angry man in it pulled up just behind the hansom cab, and the gentleman leapt out before it even came to a full stop, sprinting after the woman and boy, and shouting with great fury. "_Fiona!_"

Duo could hear his outraged cry, and was worried when he didn't see his mother make any effort to answer him. She dragged him along, ducking and dodging her way through a crowd that grew in density the closer they got to their destination. Soon, Duo realized where he was, and instantaneously, his heart began to crack in several places. _Oh, no. Oh, please, God, no._

She had brought him to the racetrack.

**********  
  


The house was quiet. Relena was out, the servants were busy, and Dorothy was off in her own little world. At long last, Heero had the opportunity to do something he had been itching to do since Mrs. Maxwell arrived--take a peek inside her luggage.

With a delicately-balanced combination of care and haste, he shut himself up in her guest room with a couple of straight pins from Relena's sewing basket, dragged out every last piece of matching crocodile travel gear, and methodically picked open every lock. Normally, he would have relied on Duo to perform such a task, for he was much better at it, and faster, too. Fiona's recent actions, however, not only deprived Heero of his assistant, but concretely convinced him that a detailed search of her belongings was in order.

Most of what she had in her bags was fairly ordinary, and there seemed to be nothing incriminating. Very expensive clothes, shoes, hats and gloves abounded, but strangely, there was no jewellery, no large amounts of cash typical of a long holiday overseas, no valuables whatsoever. There was also no trace of the wristwatch that had once graced her arm, leaving a pale band of lily-white skin as the only evidence of its existence. Peculiar as it was, though, it was hardly cause to suspect her of any wrongdoing.

Then, just when he was about to give up and go back to his dusting and polishing, he saw it. A square of newsprint folded in half and tucked under the lining of the largest suitcase, peeking out just enough to be spotted by the keenly intuitive eye. He slid it out of its hiding place, opened it, and saw that it was an excerpt from a recent edition of a New York newspaper, top right hand corner of page 23. The topic of the article was sickeningly familiar.

It was then that Heero got a terrible feeling about Fiona Maxwell.

**********  
  


The red-headed woman continued to pull the braided boy along at a speedy pace, not at all mindful of how quiet he had become. They ran at full gallop through the racing complex, cutting a two-foot-wide swath through the crowd, which gasped and yelped and shouted nasty warnings as they shoved past, and then repeated their cries as a tall, lanky gentleman dashed down the same path. Fiona ignored the man's furious shouting and hauled Duo all the way up to the betting wickets, shoving aside everyone in line at the first one she happened across and presenting Duo to the man at the window with both hands clamped onto his shoulders. Duo just looked down sullenly.

"This is an emergency!" Fiona snapped, rapping on the window hard enough to drown out the angry protests of the other people in line. "Do you have an unclaimed betting slip there for a Duo Maxwell?"

The clerk at the wicket, a skinny beanpole with thinning hair, a neatly trimmed moustache and tiny wire-rimmed spectacles, tried to utter something to the effect that he hadn't finished dealing with the previous customer, but the tall gentleman that had been chasing after the pair suddenly burst through the discombobulated remnants of the line and smacked the glass with his own huge hand. "My name is Clayborne Warrington Maxwell the Fourth, and this is _my_ son!" he yelled at the clerk, grabbing the nearer of Duo's arms and glaring at Fiona.

"No, he's not!" Fiona snarled. "You gave up any rights you might've had to him a long time ago! He's mine, now!" She turned back to the clerk, eyes blazing. "Thirty-five thousand pounds, was it?"

"Thirty-_four_ thousand, six hundred and fifty!" Clayborne corrected haughtily. "And as the boy's _legal_ guardian, I'm eligible to collect his winnings for him. Now, make with the cheque-cutting, and don't post-date it!" Mr. Maxwell already had his pocketbook out, ready to accept the money in whatever form it took.

"I can do better than that!" Fiona countered, digging into her purse with one hand while still clutching Duo's opposite arm with the other. "I can prove that I'm his mother, whereas this _gentleman_ has nothing whatsoever on paper to indicate that he's any relation at all! Then the two of us can collect the winnings and go home to America and never have to worry about being poor again! You'd prefer that, wouldn't you, darling?" She leaned down close to the boy's ear, but he continued to stare down in defeat.

"Why didn't you tell him how destitute you are right now?" Mr. Maxwell shot back. "I notice you pawned all your jewellery to buy that new dress you're wearing...or did you find another fancy-man to supply you with liquor and pay for your manicures!?"

"If I'm destitute, it's because you _made_ me that way!" Fiona roared.

Finally, the ruckus caught the attention of the manager, the same gentleman who had refused payment on the wager more than two weeks previous, and he sauntered over with his eyebrows perched snidely on the upper portion of his forehead. There was an argument in full swing between the couple, and it took several taps on the window with the end of his ball-point pen to call them both to attention. "Now then..._Madam_...do you mean to say you have the young man's birth certificate?"

Fiona flinched and hesitated. "No...I have his adoption papers."

Duo's eyes snapped open, though he continued to look down.

"Are you even aware of the legal age of adulthood in England, Madam?" the manager asked with extreme patience.

"Well, no, but I'm sure he comes awfully close...here, see?" She slapped the paperwork down like it was some sort of holy text. "I adopted him as a baby in the autumn of 1885, and--"

"_We_ adopted him, you mean!" Clayborne interrupted.

"Oh, what does it matter!?" Fiona wailed. "As if you ever lifted a finger to help raise him!"

"The whole thing was _my_ idea! If it weren't for me, we wouldn't even _have_ a son! Lord knows _you_ never did anything to produce a family for us!"

"You never wanted a family, you just wanted a place to stash the profits from your bankrupt printing press before you were audited! Daddy's little trust fund, that's all he was to you!"

"All he was to _you_ was an annoyance! That's why you squandered every dime the mill made on nannies and nurses, to make up for your own guilt over failing me as a wife!"

"This has _nothing_ to do with--"

Before Mrs. Maxwell could finish her attack, and much before her husband could launch a counter-attack, Duo's face tightened into a scowl, and he jerked his arms savagely out of their greedy hands, backing away from both them and the window. "You couldn't even be bothered telling me to my face that I wasn't really yours," he spat solemnly at his 'mother.' "I had to hear about it like _this_, while you're about to get what you were _really_ after all the time."

"Darling," Fiona cooed with a smile, "I didn't want to upset you, can't you understand that? I wanted my visit to be nice and relaxing. Little details like being adopted would only have made things awkward between us, and besides, I was working up to telling you eventually...things just got a little rushed because certain _lowlifes_ decided to butt in where they weren't invited!"

"Don't listen to her, champ," Clayborne said in a much kinder voice, also using a sugary pet name Duo had never heard before. "I wouldn't have lied to you like that. I would have told you everything you needed to know up front, because you deserve the truth, and the only way to get the truth is to stick with me. So, how 'bout it, sonny boy?"

"Oh, please," Fiona scoffed. "If your so-called father cared that much about you, he would have come to see you first, wouldn't he? But I was the one who rushed over here to find you, as soon as I knew where you were! Why didn't he show as much effort to get here himself?"

Clayborne snarled at his wife. "Maybe because _someone_ falsely told immigration that I was a cocaine smuggler from Central America, and maybe that's why they kept me for questioning as soon as I stepped off the boat! They stuffed me in a prison cell for days while the U.S. embassy verified my identity with the State of New York!" Fiona didn't have a smart-alecky answer for that, and just stuck her nose in the air away from her husband.

Neither one of them noticed that Duo had made his way back to the clerk's window and was having a muted conversation with him. Behind them both, the Maxwells continued to bicker and argue about why they adopted a child in the first place, who's fault it was that he got left behind, and of course, who got to keep him, and his money. At the end of Duo's exchange with the clerk, the manager tapped on the window again and cleared his throat. "Excuse me, sir, madam..."

The Maxwells put their argument on 'pause' and glared at the man.

"You may be interested in knowing that young Mr. Maxwell here has just relinquished any legal claim he might have had on his winnings, if he could have proved his age."

Duo looked his adopted parents in the eyes and only broke the stare briefly to point off to his right at another of the ticket wickets, where the gruff, pudgy clerk with the undergrown beard was dealing with other customers. "Give it to that guy," he told the manager over his shoulder. "He picked the horses anyway. I don't know anything about the game."

"As you wish, sir..." The manager bowed deferentially at the waist, though still betraying a note of weariness for the boy and his family in his voice, and went to tell the man the good news.

Duo's glare intensified as he gazed at the shocked faces in front of him. He folded his arms and walked towards them. "Now...who's still interested in spending some quality time with their son?"

The Maxwells were not amused. Mrs. Maxwell sneered a vile, hateful sneer, and with the whole world watching, swung her right arm back and slapped Duo hard across the face. He recoiled, clapping a hand over the stinging spot while she vented her frustrations. "You _idiot!!_ You just threw away the most money we'll ever see! If I'd known what a-a..._spineless_, slow-witted _moron_ you'd turned into, I wouldn't have wasted my money _coming_ here!"

"Excuse me, _whose_ money?" Mr. Maxwell snorted. "Since I was coming here anyway, not only have you wasted _my_ money, but you've wasted twice as much as necessary! Frankly, I'm just glad I don't have to support either one of you two moochers with alimony payments!" With that, he turned his back to them and made for the exit at a lazy pace.

"Don't you walk away from me!" Fiona shouted in a gravelly voice, already hoarse from screaming. She snatched her husband by the arm and spun him around, assaulting his ears with a fresh volley of complaints and insults. Clayborne returned the favours twice over, and the pair of them grew louder and louder until a couple of police constables had to shove through the crowd and separate them, seconds before it would have come to blows. The only other sound strong enough to pierce the din was the ecstatic hollering of the clerk who had been named the beneficiary of the winnings, and had to 'run home an' tell the missus' right away. Far at the back of the crowd, and withdrawing quickly, Duo slunk away from the scene, still holding a hand over his face where he'd been struck. On the other side, trying to cut through the crowd to reach him, was Wufei, but the throng was much too thick to squeeze through, even for someone with his small frame. He watched Duo disappear from view and was unable to catch him; all that was left for him to do was make a full report to his superior, which he wasn't particularly looking forward to.

**********  
  


After putting all of Mrs. Maxwell's luggage back where it came from, Heero didn't know what to do with himself. He was paralysed with worry, a truly unfamiliar feeling to him, but one that he just couldn't shake. The woman's true goal in England was horribly clear now, and she probably had Duo alone somewhere in the city with no escape, no witnesses, and...

Heero berated himself for giving in to such a weak entity as fear, and marched down the main staircase looking for something productive to do. On his way to the parlour to ascertain the condition of the carpets, he heard the telephone ring, and Hilde's sing-song voice shortly afterwards. She gasped, and sounded concerned, drawing Heero out into the hall to listen more closely.

"...she what? ...Holy mackerel! Is he all right? ....o-okay, I'll get him! He's around here somewhere!" Hilde put the receiver and the earpiece down quickly and dashed around the corner, running straight into the person she was sent to find. She and Heero collided and bounced lightly off each other in front of the staircase, and she pointed him immediately down the other hall to the Chippendale table with the telephone on it, stumbling for words along the way.

Heero brushed past her, picked up both pieces of the instrument, and looked in every direction for eavesdroppers before answering the call. "Yes?"

"Yuy," a tinny voice sighed over the line. "You're not going to believe what happened."

"Is Duo alright?"

"As far as I know, he's in near-perfect health."

Heero squinted. "Didn't you find him? Where is he?"

"I found him, but..." Wufei hesitated. "Before I give you the details, where do you keep your sidearm?"

The squint deepened. "What?"

"Your gun! Where do you keep it!?"

"...in a drawer upstairs."

He could almost hear Wufei nodding thoughtfully on the other end. "Can you lock this drawer?"

"I don't have _time_ for this," Heero griped, "someone could walk past any moment!"

"Can you _lock_ it!?"

"Yes! Yes, I can lock it!"

"Excellent," Wufei said, "because we don't need any unnecessary bloodshed, and I'm not going to tell you what happened until you do."

Heero bristled, tightening his grip on the poor telephone. "Agent Chang, I still outrank you," he growled in a viciously superior voice. "I _order_ you to carry out my instructions. Now, _tell me_!!"

Wufei told him. When he was finished, Heero put the phone down very calmly and gently. Not far beneath the placid veneer of total relaxation boiled a river of rage so hot and unforgiving that it threatened to incinerate everything in its path if unleashed onto the world. The very next thing Heero did was run straight upstairs to lock up his gun.

**********  
  


Gliding along in one of the Wyndham family carriages, with its purple velvet upholstery and pure white stallions out in front, Relena and Marcus rode through London on their way back to Bridlewood after quite a fanciful day. "I had a lovely time at your house, Marcus," the shy blonde girl said quietly with a coquettish smile.

"I'm glad," Marcus said, not very loudly either. "Mum and Dad really like you, I can tell."

"I like them too," Relena replied. "Your whole estate is so lively and fun, I almost hated to leave! I hope...maybe...we can do this again sometime."

The girl's pale hand drifted across from her lap to rest atop Marcus' hand, which laid very casually between them on the bench seat of the carriage. Almost imperceptibly, Marcus blushed. "So do I, m'lady."

Like all good things, the blissful carriage ride came to an end in front of Bridlewood Manor, and Marcus stepped out and jogged around to Relena's side of the coach to offer his hand as she stepped down onto the pavement. They stood with their hands unconsciously joined for a moment or two, unwilling to separate and have the fairy-tale end so abruptly. Relena looked up at her beautiful home and compared it to the mental image of the Wyndham estate, deep in Essex County. "My house looks so quiet compared to yours," she remarked. "It's going to seem like a museum after seeing how busy your whole family is."

They both looked up at the graceful solitude embodied in the old brick home and took some time to appreciate its serenity, but on the inside, things were just as far from serene as they could possibly be. There was a rather impressive ruckus happening on the second floor, as an extraordinarily angry Heero stomped up to Hilde and shoved a key into her hands, telling her not to give it back to him until at least the end of the day. He went on for a bit after that, making sharp gestures with tightly balled fists and railing bitterly at the walls.

"Shinjirarenai! _Ano ama!_ Ii kagen-ni shiro-yo!"

Hilde didn't know what any of it literally meant, but the abject fury he displayed transcended all language barriers. "Um...how long do you want me to keep this?" the girl squeaked, holding up the key to his top dresser drawer.

"Until Duo get's home, or until I calm down, whichever comes first!" Heero barked. "Do _not_ give it back to me, no matter how much I beg, or no matter how graphically I threaten you!"

Hilde swallowed.

Still pacing frenetically, Heero cracked his knuckled over and over. Stopping on the proverbial dime, he spun around and walked briskly around the top of the main staircase to the east side of the second floor, facing the street, where Mrs. Maxwell's room was located. Hilde followed out of worry that he might do something ridiculous in his temporarily insane state, like set the wardrobe on fire, but she also followed because she found his display of energy to be rather exhilarating. The worry returned when she witnessed him hauling all of Fiona's bags out from their hiding places and flinging the contents of the dresser drawers into them.

Hilde kept what she hoped would be a safe distance. "...what are you doing, exactly?"

"Helping her pack!"

"Uh...okay." It was best not to argue. The furious butler was stuffing the bags full and snapping them shut with such force that the clasps might have flown off and taken out an eye if Hilde got any closer, so she just stood by and watched the spectacle. Soon, every last scrap that was owned by Fiona Maxwell was secured in her matching crocodile luggage, albeit with some scraps sticking out the sides a little further than other scraps. Next, to Hilde's undeniable shock, Heero hefted up the largest and heaviest of the suitcases, and side-stepped menacingly towards the window, with the clear intention of flinging the suitcase through it.

At that point, Hilde had to intervene, if only for the window's sake. She raced ahead of him with her arms in the air. "No, no, wait!"

Heero paused and growled, obviously frustrated.

Hilde unlatched the window sash and pushed it up, leaving a reasonably clear path between the suitcase and the lawn. She stepped aside. "Okay, go ahead!"

"Put it back down!" Heero shouted.

"Why!?"

"_Because I need to break something!_"

Hilde hurriedly put the window sash back down and ran to the other side of the room. Heero hefted up the suitcase again, and with a wild look in his eyes, took aim.

Down below, happily centred on the front walk, Relena and Marcus gazed into each other's eyes in utter bliss. Marcus seemed to be searching for just the right words to say upon their parting, and eventually found them. "I don't suppose you'd fancy dinner tonight...I've got a private booth at this upscale art-nouveau restaurant up west..."

Relena smiled brightly. "That would be lovely!"

"Brilliant!" Marcus cheered. "You'll love it! They do up the most peculiar dessert there, made with fruit gelatin, whipped cream, maraschino cherries...oh, what's it called now?" He counted off the ingredients on his fingers, concentrating hard on remembering the name of the dish.

Without warning, a large crocodile suitcase crashed through a second-floor window and landed on the front lawn with a loud clunk, followed closely by a thousand shards of splintered wood and shattered window pane.

Marcus snapped his fingers gleefully. "Broken Glass Salad! That's it!"

Relena's eyes bulged as she looked at the suitcase lying limply in the grass, then up at the mangled window just as a smaller suitcase from the same set flew out of it, taking with it a few shards of glass that hadn't been sheared off by the first projectile. She covered her mouth and jumped as it hit the larger suitcase and bounced, cracking open and coating the lawn sparsely with ladies' lace unmentionables. Next came an overnight bag, a makeup kit, and a folding garment bag, which was expertly rolled up and tossed through the window end-first, to make sure it fit.

Relena gaped and dropped her hand to clutch at the waistband of her dress. Ordinarily, she would have been the last person to do something so common as to shout in the street, but she wasn't feeling terribly prim. "What's going on up there!?" she hollered.

The torrent of luggage seemed to have stopped. Looking over her shoulder, Hilde poked her head out the window, shrugged, flashed a guilty, toothy grin, and gave the battered window frame a quick once-over with her feather duster. At precisely the same time, a carriage came clattering down the street, followed by a hansom cab. They stopped in front of the manor, and a very angry Maxwell jumped out of each vehicle, immediately shouting at each other. Relena only recognized her guest, Fiona, and was turning several shades of red by the time the woman made it to the front gate.

By now, most of the rest of the servants were gathering at other windows in the house, rubbernecking at the strange scene below. Fiona stopped at the end of the walk and gasped at the sight of all her accoutrements spread out over the lawn. She ran right past Relena and Marcus, threw herself at the ground and began frantically collecting her things and shoving them back in their bags. The man who accompanied her looked down and smirked, as if silently thinking that was where she belonged. To complete the tableau, and finish off the last of Relena's dignity as a hostess, Heero came storming out the front door to have it out with the pair of them. Otto was hot on his heels, followed closely by Trowa. Everyone else, servants and aristocrats alike, was at the windows, gawking.

"You!!" Heero trampled right through the mess he'd made of the luggage to tower over Fiona in a fit of rage. Otto tried to hold him back, but it wasn't easy. "Why couldn't you leave him alone!?"

Fiona scowled and shook one of her lace camisoles at him in retaliation. "I don't know! Why couldn't he have had an ounce of common sense!? Because life just isn't fair, that's why!"

"Hey!" Not wanting to be left out of a good fight, Clayborne came marching over to add his two cents. He shoved a finger in Heero's immediate airspace, and Trowa looped around behind him and tried to pull him away. "You _knew_ the kid was here this afternoon! You faked me out! What is this, some kinda set-up!?"

"Don't you flatter him, Clay, he's not worth it! None of them are!" Fiona screeched, picking up all of her bags and hanging them off her neck and shoulders so she would only have to make one trip back to the carriage. "And as for _you_, I wish I'd never _met_ you, you...you...penny-pinching two-timer!"

Clayborne shook Trowa off easily and pounced forward, landing right in front of Heero and his wife, and raising the ambient temperature by ten degrees. "And _you_...I wish I'd never married a barren waste of space that forced me into adopting someone else's second-hand bastard baby!!"

The last remark wasn't directed at Heero, but it had the same effect. The boy jerked his right arm loose from Otto's meaty hand, hauled back, and punched Mr. Maxwell squarely in the jaw. Chaos ensued. Relena squeaked in fright, and Marcus stood in front of her protectively. Clayborne fell backwards onto the lawn and nearly knocked down Trowa, who expertly vaulted out of the way and jumped over the man's prone form to help Otto rein in Heero. Fiona shuffled through the mess with her entire wardrobe on her back like some sort of pack animal, and as she passed the trio of servants struggling against each other, Heero took an extra moment to remind her of how serious he was.

"Teme kono-yaro!! If _either_ of you _ever_ come near Duo again--"

"Don't worry about _that_, you little cretin!" Fiona shot back over her shoulder. "We've had more than enough of him and his thug friends!"

Clayborne was just picking himself up off the lawn and saw the look of protective insanity in Heero's eyes. He smudged off the blood from his split lip with the back of his hand and smirked, chuckling. "_Oh_, yeah...I see how it is between you and him...well that's just fine!" He began backing up towards his cab and certainly didn't take the time to introduce himself to her Ladyship as he passed her by. "You two fruitcakes can _have_ each other!"

The Maxwells retreated to their separate vehicles and drove away, never to return. Heero calmed down considerably, and Otto and Trowa slowly let him go. He shrugged Otto off and glared at him, but Otto was almost smiling back, quite pleased that the whole circus had taken place right in front of Relena; there were bound to be repercussions.

Seething with her own variety of mute, ladylike rage, Relena stepped out from behind her Marcus-shaped duckblind and walked slowly towards Heero. The others instinctively backed away, guessing that she was far beyond her normal point of saint-like patience. Sure enough, she stopped in front of Heero, narrowed her eyes like a hunting lioness, and slapped him as hard as she could. As his head jerked to the side from the impact, it wasn't just a slap, but a bucket of cold water and a megajolt of electricity as well. It did something to stabilize him.

"How _dare_ you embarrass me like that in front of guests!" Relena gushed in a harsh and venomous whisper. "And what were you thinking, breaking my window!? And throwing peoples' luggage out like sacks of trash!? You've got a lot of explaining to do!"

Heero kept his head down a bit, looking up at her through his mussed-up bangs. "M'lady, once you've heard what they've done, you'll--"

"I don't know if I even _want_ to hear it, if this is the result!" she barked quickly, cutting him off like the naughty subordinate he was. "I can't accept that anything in the world would excuse you for what you've just done! Mrs. Maxwell was wealthy, well-connected, and practically a member of the family, and she'll never want to set foot here again! Nothing justifies this!" Already feeling her face and neck redden from the humiliation of it all, she added a few more inches of fuse to her temper and folded her hands, tossing her hair back with a haughty, carefree expression. "I shall have to think long and hard before I decide what to do with you. Until then, I suggest you keep to your duties and stay well out of my way." With those parting words, she sailed effortlessly up the front walk to the house, and Otto was there to hold the door open for her as she went inside.

Marcus, thinking he might be of some use comforting her after her ordeal, strolled up as well with his hands in his pockets, stopping beside Heero to offer his unsolicited opinion. "Smashing right hook," he complimented him.

Heero pulled his jaw back into alignment with one hand and glared noncommittally at thin air. "Thank you."

"There've been a few chaps I've wanted to beat some sense into over the years," Marcus said, making friendly conversation as if nothing untoward had happened. "Could you teach it to me?"

"Maybe later."

"Right-o." The young man sauntered up to the house and disappeared, happy as a clam.

That left Heero and Trowa alone on the front lawn with the faces at the windows gradually turning away one by one, as the party appeared to be over. Trowa felt eyes on him, looked up, and saw that Quatre was the only one who hadn't returned to his duties. The gardener appeared weak and tired after absorbing so much negativity through the glass, but neither he nor Trowa was about to leave Heero alone until they were sure he was himself again. Trying to look supportive without being judgemental or nosy, Trowa helped by picking up bits of shattered glass off the lawn. Heero just stood there, trancelike, and stared at nothing.

Then, out of the mists from which the carriages had appeared, came a running boy dressed in blue and white, and severely out of breath. Having worn himself out following the Maxwells back from the racetrack on foot, for it seemed to be a good idea at the time to get some exercise, Wufei stopped next to Heero and bent over, bracing himself with his hands on his knees and gasping for breath. Once he had enough air to form words with, he did so. "How did...it go?" he huffed between pants.

Trowa gingerly dropped some glass shards in his trouser pockets and began picking up a new batch. "Not great."

Wufei nodded and straightened up at last. "Where's Duo?"

Heero snapped to attention, eyes wide. "Couldn't you find him?"

"I couldn't get through the crowd," Wufei explained. "I just assumed he'd be coming back he--" Before he could finish his sad tale, Heero turned on his heel and walked briskly down to the street. "Where are you going!?" Wufei called after him.

"To look for Duo!"

"But he could be anywhere by now, and it'll be dark in a few hours!" Trowa added.

Their shouts fell on deaf ears. Heero turned up the street and walked away into what was left of the fog, intent on finding his friend and bringing him back safely before he did anything foolish.

**********  
  


From a little after lunchtime to a little before dusk, the fog had dissipated nicely, but after the sun set and the air cooled, it came right back again, clogging up the air and filling every street with a thick layer of low-flying clouds. It was the perfect time to hide, Duo thought, for it would be almost impossible for him to be found in such a mess. After leaving the racetrack, he wandered down a crooked line that stretched across town to a destination far from Bridlewood, for he knew Fiona would have to stop there to pick up her belongings, and he didn't want to see her, or her husband, ever again. Not having a single penny in his pocket, he was forced to skip dinner, but he didn't have much appetite anyway, and concentrated on simply putting one foot in front of the other until he got to where he was going.

He ended up a little ways outside town, where a recently-reactivated railroad track crossed a dried-up creek bed at an altitude of two hundred feet or more. This was where he and Heero had completed the last of their daredevil stunts, where they were nearly killed running from an oncoming train, and where he kissed Heero for the first time, though briefly. While he was in no fit emotional condition to listen to his common sense, he walked out to the middle of the bridge, sat down, and dangled his legs over the side, staring down at the rocks below. It was just barely light enough to see, but the fog magnified what little light there was from the stars, making the jagged stones and tiny trickle of water reasonably visible. He gazed vacantly at the deadly rocks, thought about how easy it would be to slip and fall, and curled up into a ball on the tracks, wrapping both arms around his tucked-up legs and resting his chin on his knees. In the time he sat there, the fog became so thick that he could no longer see either end of the bridge or the rocks below, although the air around him was beautifully bright.

After a long while, Duo heard the soft squishing crunches of shoe leather flattening out wet gravel. It got closer and closer, until Heero crouched down out of nowhere and sat quietly next to his friend. He let his feet dangle tiredly below the bridge and propped himself up heavily with both hands on the blackened steel rail, waiting a considerable amount of time before breaking the silence. "You weren't easy to find."

Duo didn't answer right away. Heero was sitting on his right, and couldn't see the faint reddish-blue bruise on his left cheekbone, but Duo gathered that he must have heard all about what happened to have even come looking for him in such an odd place. Eventually, he gave in to his emotionally needier side and leaned heavily against Heero, dropping his head down on his shoulder with a sigh. Heero responded right away, swinging his left leg up around Duo's back and wrapping both arms around his chilled form, drawing him close from an oddly comfortable angle. Once he had a firm hold on the boy, and knew that he couldn't possibly fall, Heero shut his eyes and breathed in the foggy air in a slow, rhythmic pattern, creating an almost meditative state, with the tip of his nose just barely brushing against Duo's dew-soaked hair.

"I was kidding myself, wasn't I?" the chef asked after a long pause. "Must've been pretty stupid, even thinking for a second that anyone would want me just for me." Heero let out a tiny groan and squeezed Duo a little tighter, and the braided boy smiled. "Yeah, I know...I'm just whining, pay no attention to me."

Heero opened his eyes and propped his head up against Duo's, staring down along the same path into the mist. "Wufei was at the racetrack. He told me what happened. She had the newspaper article about your winnings in her luggage all along."

"God, why did I even _try_ to be friends with her!? The whole visit was one bad omen after another. I should've seen this coming..."

"None of this is your fault."

Another lengthy pause followed, during which Duo pondered the truth of that statement. He had often heard that sort of thing said to someone who had actually _done_ something to deserve their fate, in the interest of sparing their feelings, but he could find absolutely nothing wrong with anything he had said or done. He was guiltless, but there was no immediate remedy for the hurt he felt, therefore there was no justice. "You're right. It isn't my fault. They had this planned almost before I was even born, so how could I have changed any of it?"

Heero's left eyebrow twitched upwards in response. "Planned? They couldn't plan for you to be at the racetrack that day..."

"No no, not that, I mean having a kid in the first place." Duo took a deep, uncomfortable breath. "I got part of the story while they were yelling at each other, and pieced it together from what I read in the manor library, back when I was on my American history kick. See, they imposed income tax on all the people to pay off the Civil War. Later on, they repealed it, but there were rumblings around the time I was born that they should bring it back to pay for public works. Well, Ma and Pa Maxwell didn't like that, because they're greedy, stingy, loveless bozos with major investments to milk profits from. Somewhere along the line, they got the idea that if they had a child, they could make a single, major, tax-deductible gift to that child, held in trust, until such time that enough people complained about the income tax law to get it thrown out _again_, when they could just steal that gift back. I would have been nine or ten when the tax laws came back, and I know for a fact that they were repealed again a year later, so it was a lot of wasted effort over nothing."

Heero squinted at an incomplete picture. "But...if they adopted you for that purpose, they had what they wanted. Why did they abandon you?"

Duo shrugged. "Parenthood wasn't as easy as it looked in the brochures, I guess. They couldn't have kids of their own, so they didn't know what to expect, and they weren't used to _real_ work like baby laundry and 3am feedings. Hiring people to take care of me was eating up their profits, and if I got lost somewhere and was never recovered, they could just wait until I'd served my purpose as a tax shelter, have me officially declared dead, and collect on the life insurance _and_ the investments. Pretty sweet for 'em, huh?"

Heero felt his rage bubbling to the surface again, but was marginally able to force it back down. After all, there was no longer any immediate threat, and he had no desire to startle Duo in his already battered state.

"I know it's over, but I can't stand thinking about the way those creeps were using me. I don't know when I'm gonna be ready to go back, not if they're still hanging around the manor."

Heero cleared his throat and looked very guilty indeed. "Yes, well.....I wouldn't worry."

Even without turning his head to look, Duo knew that tone of voice. He grinned for the first time that day. "Is there something I should know?"

Heero looked shiftily to either side, as if he wasn't one hundred percent proud of his recent actions. "...they're gone, actually. I.....threw them out."

"You threw them _out_!?" Duo crowed, his grin widening. "You can't throw people out, you're just the butler! Only Otto and Queen 'Leen can throw people out!"

"I'm diversifying."

Finally in a good mood, Duo let his right leg drop down so his arm had room to snake around Heero's waist and start squeezing him back. "What happened? You gotta tell me what happened!"

"Well..." Heero crinkled his eyebrows and tilted his head from side to side, a bit on the sheepish side. "We...had some rather strong words to say to one another...a few suitcases flew out the window under their own power...your father hit my fist with his face and I threw them out."

Duo tossed his head back and laughed mightily. He was still giggling and such when he pulled himself together and nuzzled the side of Heero's neck in appreciation. "Ohhh, I wish I could've seen that!"

Heero shrugged guiltily. "Just ask anyone in the neighbourhood for the details. They all saw it."

With a fresh wave of laughter, Duo hugged even harder, but noticed that Heero wasn't hugging back anymore. In fact, he seemed to be a bit deflated over the whole experience. "What's wrong?"

Fatigued in a way he had never felt before, Heero settled his chin down on Duo's shoulder and spoke groggily, as if battling sleep. "I lost control over my emotions in a way I thought shouldn't have been possible. I've never felt so much anger and rage before in my entire life...it was like nothing I'd ever experienced, and that was even before I knew about the whole tax evasion scheme. If Wufei hadn't warned me well in advance, I honestly believe I could have killed someone today."

Duo quietly asked himself if it would be really sick and twisted to be flattered by that remark, to which he replied, only a little bit sick and twisted. "It probably wasn't as bad as you think. Remember, I've _seen_ you get angry before."

"Not like this," Heero said. "I used to receive constant training on how to suppress dangerous emotions like fear and hatred, but I'm starting to unconsciously ignore what I learned, and I don't know if I can get that control back on my own."

Neither one of them liked the sound of that, because it smacked of the suggestion that he should return to Lord Jeffrhyss. Duo pouted with worry. "Well, who says you can't? Maybe all you need is some more time to yourself to think things over, and maybe it'd come back to you on its own."

"Actually, I did some thinking on the way over here." Heero straightened up a little and looked at Duo with a kind but serious face. "I was angry because of what they had done to _you_. I went over the entire list of everyone I've met since my mission began, and _none_ of them...not one...could have evoked such a strong reaction in me. I don't mean for you to feel guilty, but this is all about you. I realize now that I _detest_ the thought of anyone hurting you, and if I can just exercise some control over my emotions, then on the whole, it can't be a bad thing. It's just an inherent property of how much you mean to me."

For Heero, this was major analytical gushing. Duo ducked his head and grinned. "...aw...don't you go makin' me blush, now, or I'll hafta hurt ya."

"It's true," Heero said with a melodious lilt, tightening his hug around the boy. "I want you to remember that, the next time you're sulking on an extremely dangerous railway bridge thinking nobody loves you."

Duo's eyes flew open as he replayed Heero's words in his head. _Did he just say...well, no, he didn't say, but he implied...then again, he probably didn't mean.....but he almost said...almost said that he....._ He smirked and lifted his head, too excited to finish the thought without losing what remained of his composure to a possibly premature shriek of joy. "Let's get out of here."

Heero stood effortlessly and pulled Duo up to his feet with one hand, allowing him to squeeze past him on the narrow bridge and walk in front as they carefully vacated the perilous spot. While they strolled tiredly back to town with their arms hanging off each other's shoulders, Duo replayed the cosmic phrase Heero had just uttered, the first one in living memory in which he had used the words 'love' and 'you' in the same breath. Was it too much to hope for that it meant more than what it merely sounded like? Maybe. Was Duo looking forward to hearing it again in the future? Definitely. Would he do anything in the world to make sure it happened? Duo slid his arm down to entangle Heero's waist and squeezed silently, with a contented smile. _Count on it, Heero. You'll say those words again._

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


_Next, in Episode Forty-Eight: Doubts about the state of Heero's employment and an argument over a lost letter send Duo on another emotional roller coaster ride, while Relena asks herself why she can't let go of old infatuations._

*waiii* I've been SO cruel to Duo... =;_;= I hope he forgives me...he's just got a little more stuff to go through, and then I'm gonna ease off the whip a little. Poor boy. *has visions of flying crocodile luggage and starts laughing again* I swear, I lost a pound and a half from the exercise of laughing about the luggage thing... =^-^= heeheehee! Um, yes, next episode...well, here's the thing. =^_~= We're fast approaching Bridlewood's **ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY**...(echo)..sary...sary...sary... *cough* BUT...I'm not yet sure whether the next episode will be on May 23rd or May 24th, for reasons which I won't trouble you with now. Rest assured, though, I'll be notifying you on my website, so stay tuned!


	48. The Boomerang Effect

**Warnings:** Violence. (To the effect that I will suffer violence at the hands of my beta reader when she finds out I used her for this week's quote. =^-^= No actual violence in this episode, though.) 

**Disclaimer:** My current defence against any corporate lawyers who might decide to beat down my door and present a "cease and desist" order from BanDai is that I've been working on this for a WHOLE YEAR now, and if they even **tried** to shut me down, they'd have hordes of angry fans swarming all over them and plucking out each and every one of their body hairs, one by one by one. Right guys? *looks expectantly at her readers* ... *crickets chirp* ... =o_o;= *gulp* Uh...right? =D

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Forty-Eight: The Boomerang Effect

_"Every moronic thing I've ever done has come back to bite me in the end. Given the rate at which I still do moronic things, I may never sit down again." ~Rachel Perrin _

May 24th, 1902

Not long after the sun decided to make its presence known that morning, a slim figure in green and gray lurched drowsily across the back lawn, heading away from the house and towards the stables. The early interruptions of sleep had continued for Trowa, but he was too concerned with not offending his closest friend to even think of suggesting that he and his sisters were too loud and too many. His only reasonable alternative was to keep bunking in the hayloft for a few hours each morning, to reclaim the lost slumber that he needed so badly.

The route he took was becoming more regular with each trip, even though he consistently made the trip while half asleep. Out the back door, through the terrace, past the gazebo, past the hedge maze, down the gravel path and turn right at the coachhouse. Some nights, his dreams included hazy representations of him walking that route, long before Quatre and his sisters even made a peep to awaken him, but it always became reality soon enough. Trowa stumbled through the stable door and closed it, lumbering up the ladder to the hayloft with the usual half-hearted agility and flopping on the thick layer of hay, face-down. He would have been asleep in less than a minute.

"Pillow?" a soft voice asked.

Trowa lifted his head groggily, saw the blurry white squarish object being offered to him, and managed a smile. "Mrrf..." He took it with both hands, squished it up into a comfortable lump, and flopped back down. It felt so much nicer than the hay, he wondered why he hadn't thought of smuggling one out to the barn sooner.

Beside him, the owner of the soft voice stifled a chuckle, but only just. Trowa's eyes flew open, and he jumped up off the pillow, startled as what just happened finally started to sink in. Quatre was sitting cross-legged next to him with his leather-bound holy book and a pillow for himself, grinning. The look of shock on Trowa's face was too much for the gardener, and he started laughing.

Trowa sat up and leaned heavily against the upper wall of the stable, rubbing his eyes. "How long have you been here?"

Quatre clutched his side where the laughter was making his muscles sore, and brushed at his eyes with his sleeve. He must have been holding that one giggle in for hours. "I left a note for the girls and slipped out around twelve-thirty, when I knew you were asleep. You should've seen your face just then!"

"...I didn't want you to find out," Trowa groaned.

Though he still smiled warmly, Quatre ceased his snickering and crawled through the hay to sit right next to his friend, propped up against the wall as well. "Did you honestly think I wouldn't notice? You've been sneaking out for days, maybe even weeks, and you really believed I wouldn't come looking for you eventually?"

Trowa shrugged, still only two-thirds of the way to being totally awake. "I didn't want to hurt your feelings. I know how much you love having your sisters around, but I haven't had a full night's sleep since they arrived. You know I wouldn't say a cruel word against them now that I know how kind they are to you, but...I'm a total wreck because of them!"

Quatre put an arm around his friend to prop his sleepy self up with, and fluffed his own pillow up on his lap for a comfortable place to rest his other arm. "You'll be relieved to know that I've already talked it over with my sisters, and they're prepared to make it up to you."

"Quat, they do beautiful work, but I really don't _need_ any more baskets or rugs or potted plants," Trowa protested quietly. "...and I'm really not that comfortable with the aromatherapy massage either..."

"No, no, no," Quatre corrected him. "I mean we've all agreed that we should pick ourselves up very quietly in the morning, tip-toe out to the north side of the back lawn, and take our prayers there, instead of disturbing your sleep."

Trowa shook his head firmly. "But I can't force them out of the house, even for a few minutes! Someone might see them!"

"Who's going to see us? I checked the whole north side of the house myself and there are no bedroom windows on that wall, and it'd be dark out most days of the year. Besides, it'd be better for us anyway, because at the north end of the lawn, we can get a less obstructed view of the east." Quatre smirked to spite himself and the trouble his family had caused. "When you think about how the beds are arranged in our room, when we're all facing Mecca, you're directly in our line of fire," he said, gesturing a straight line away from himself with one hand.

"Still, I'd sooner move to a different room myself than make you all slink around outside where you might be seen, even if the chances are slim to none," Trowa said, yawning immediately afterwards.

Quatre tightened the arm around Trowa and squeezed him closer, taking a gentle hold of his limp, green-sleeved arm with his other hand. "But I don't want you to leave," he whispered. "I'll agree to anything else, but not that. With me working in the gardens and you tending the horses, we hardly see each other except at mealtimes, and I'd...I'd miss you."

Their eyes met, and even in a snoozy fog teetering on the edge of sleep, Trowa saw the worry and sincerity in Quatre's gaze. "How about this, then...we all stay in the same room, but we'll move the furniture around. We'll put both our beds in the north corner facing the door, shove the table and chairs off to the side, and give your sisters as much of the floor space as they need on the east side of the room. How would that be?"

Quatre gave him a relieved smile. "I think that would work just fine."

Trowa yawned again and leaned a little more heavily against the gardener. "I still wish they'd let us bring some extra beds into the room...they shouldn't have to sleep on the floor like that."

"Now, we all agreed," Quatre reminded him, looking straight ahead at the opposite wooden plank wall, "that would only bring suspicion if someone walked in and saw all the extra furniture, and they all said they're perfectly used to it. Doesn't bother them a bit. They'll be so happy to know you were so concerned about upsetting them, and me, that you went to all this trouble day after day, trying to get some sleep. We really do appreciate you putting up with us and all the turmoil we've caused...in fact, you've been a lot more understanding of my whole life than a lot of people would have been. I don't say this as often as I should, Trowa...but your kindness means so much to me."

Trowa snored. It wasn't clear at what point during Quatre's speech he dropped off, but dropped he did, completely and permanently. Quatre almost laughed again, but forced himself not to, for fear of waking him needlessly. Since there was already a pillow on his lap, he gently lowered Trowa down into the hay, resting his weary head on the pillow, and amazingly, didn't disturb him at all.

_Poor thing...going through all this for me..._ Quatre smiled and brushed Trowa's bangs away from his face, deciding to sit up with him until he had gotten all the sleep he needed. _Clever, too. It took me quite awhile to find out where he was hiding himself._ He looked around at the cozy little nook the hayloft had turned out to be; it was quiet, secluded, and could accommodate two people very easily, with room to spare for anything else they might need. There could be pillows, blankets, books, food, an electric lantern, anything, and nobody from the house would be likely to suspect for a long time. 

_It's nice up here, apart from the smell of horses, but if Trowa's gotten used to that, it mustn't be that difficult._ The more he thought about it, stroking Trowa's cinnamon hair with a smooth, hypnotic motion, the more attractive the hayloft seemed as a hiding place. _Maybe I could get used to it too...then we'd both have a place to go where nobody can find us. That could be very nice indeed._

**********  
  


It had taken quite some time, but most of the damage done to the manor had finally been repaired. Otto had contracted a master glazier to duplicate the antique window on the second floor that had 'accidentally' been smashed, and the front lawn had been combed over and over to eliminate each and every shard of glass before any of it could pierce one of Frederick's unsuspecting paws. All that remained to be fixed was Relena's reputation, which she seriously thought had received a near-fatal blow, thanks to Heero's temper. Now, it was time to pay the piper.

Once the total value of the cleanup had been assessed and duly deducted from Heero's wages, he was marched into the parlour in complete silence, with Otto in front of him and Doris behind, to make sure he didn't make a run for it. Doris, having been made wiser by the passing of many years, was certain that the Peacecraft name had suffered no damage, and that the whole confrontation with Duo's adopted parents was highly amusing, but orders were orders. She and the burly house steward delivered their charge promptly at the stroke of nine that morning to be dealt with by his employer.

_And may God have mercy on your soul,_ the maid thought as they shut the parlour doors and retreated to a safe distance.

Relena stood with her back to the doors for a long time, and when she finally turned around, she definitely didn't have her happy face on. Heero stood tall and proud with his hands clasped behind him, unafraid of her wrath, but found himself hesitating for just a moment when she beckoned him forward. "I've committed a great deal of thought to the matter of what to do with you," she commenced. "Otto believes you should be dismissed for your actions. My uncle and Baroness Catalonia had a similar opinion, but it also seems that the majority of the staff sides firmly with you. I suppose it's something of a testament to the rapport you've developed with them during your tenure here. None of this truly matters, however, as the final decision is mine alone."

Heero said nothing in his defence. If he was forced to leave, he'd be taking Duo with him and that was that. Goodbye, moral obligations, hello, nice little flat in Carshalton.

"I may be persuaded to be lenient if we get a few things straight between us," she continued, lacing her fingers together at waist height. "If you confess the reason behind your little outburst, I _might_ forgive you and allow you to stay."

It seemed reasonable enough, Heero thought. "Duo won a substantial amount of money at the racetrack, but couldn't collect because of his age, and when his mother arrived, she was only interes--"

"Don't try that on me!" Relena scoffed. "I'll give you one more chance to tell the truth, and that's all you'll get!"

Heero squinted at her, genuinely confused. Couldn't Relena see what an angry, hateful person Duo's 'mother' was? "I understand that you enjoyed Mrs. Maxwell's company, but she wasn't--"

"Oh, come off it, this isn't about Mrs. Maxwell!" Relena snapped gruffly. "This is about me and Marcus, we both know that!"

Heero bristled with wide, angry eyes. "_Excuse_ me?"

"You can't stand the thought of me being happy with anyone else, that's why you chose that _exact_ moment, when he and I were saying our farewells on the front lawn, to destroy my window and terrorize my guest!"

"_That_ is ridiculous," Heero said calmly. His voice was quiet, but his glare was shooting past ninety degrees and threatening to boil over.

"Is it?" Relena shot back with sudden, equal calmness. "You've never liked Marcus. You've never had anything good to say about him!"

"I've never had _anything_ to say about him!" Heero logically insisted. He really didn't see where all this was coming from.

"Your continual employment will stay in jeopardy until you admit that you set out to humiliate me in front of him because you don't approve of our friendship!"

Slowly, the picture came into focus, and Heero began to see exactly what she was aiming for. He quieted down and acted aloof. "I honestly couldn't care less what madam does in her private moments, and with whom. My concern for this house and its occupants finishes at the front door."

Relena clenched her tiny fists briefly and scowled in frustration. "That's not true! You hate Marcus because you think he's the reason I broke off our engagement! Confess it now, or you can pack your bags and get out!"

The faintest of smirks teased at Heero's entire face as he caught her Ladyship in another one of her self-contradictions. "You _want_ me to be jealous," he whispered in triumph. "You want me to envy him for all the time you two spend together, and you're upset that I don't care."

Relena blushed through a frown at being found out. She looked away momentarily and blinked against the mists forming in her eyes. Quickly, she retreated to her mental bank vault and withdrew another pleasing rationalization. "You can pretend all you like, but you can't mask the truth," she said with subdued confidence. "You're dashing, strong, and intelligent...you could get a top position in any household in London for a great deal more money, and yet you choose to stay here. It doesn't take a genius to guess that you're staying for...another reason..."

Heero folded his arms defensively with a furtive sigh. He could see how it might look that way on the surface, but the naive girl had no idea of the sinister forces at work that were keeping him in that house, and to top it all off, she was still carrying some sort of a torch for him. It was unfortunate that she should be confused about their status, but he had instituted a new policy of considering his own needs once in awhile, when he knew what they were. "I think, if there's to be any question of me staying here, that madam should consider very carefully what she is saying."

Panicked at his tone of voice, which suggested that he was an inch away from quitting, Relena scurried forward a few steps, stopping at a high-backed wooden chair and clutching it with both hands. "No, don't go! I only want to know if you still have feelings for me! I want you to tell me the truth!"

"You don't know _what_ you want!" Heero snapped, tiring of her games. "You never have! You once told me I didn't need to worry about the class barrier between us because you'd accept me in any class, and then told me you could get me into the higher echelons of society if I let you change me! Just now, you threatened to throw me out unless I admitted I acted out of jealously, and two minutes later, you're begging me to stay! I don't have a clue what you want anymore because you change directions so many times in one day that it makes me dizzy trying to keep up!"

Relena gaped at his insolence. "_I_ change directions!? What about you!? When you started working here, you were kind, and charming, and made me feel like I was the most beautiful girl in the world! When you gave me that diamond ring, I thought you were prepared to spend the rest of your life with me, and then you turned into a sulky, snarly, miserable sourpuss almost overnight! And when I found out that you were still sharing a room with that, that...braided _basket case_, what was I _meant_ to think!? Where are you both sleeping now!? Hm!? Do you think I don't know what's going on in my own house!?"

Heero glared silently. So that was it. It wasn't even about Marcus, it was about what _really_ caused their 'breakup.' _And as for knowing everything that goes on in your house..._ To illustrate how wrong she was, Heero walked slowly and stealthily to the parlour doors, keeping his eyes on Relena as he crept up to the mahogany monoliths. With extreme delicacy and care, he took hold of the left-hand doorknob, not moving it one bit. Then, with a lightning-quick motion, he twisted the knob and yanked sharply on the door. Sure enough, four crouching housemaids tumbled inside, falling all over each other as the support structure to which their ears were firmly pressed suddenly went away. Heero looked at the pile of nosy women, looked at Relena, clasped his hands behind his back again, raised his eyebrows at her in a miniscule victory dance, and walked to the other side of the room, by the piano.

Relena shut her eyes and slouched, slowly shifting back into authoritative mode to give the girls a severe talking to. Already exhausted and in no mood to be trifled with, she strode over to the clump of prim 'ladies' in black dresses and white aprons, shook her head, and waited for them to untangle themselves and form a line. They scrambled to their feet and brushed the dust bunnies off their uniforms, heads lowered, all except for Hilde, who was looking at Heero with sympathy and worry.

"Alright...how much did you hear?"

They all shrugged and blathered until Elsie said the first coherent words between them. "Well...'ardly anythin', Miss. We dinnit 'ear nuffink about why you two ain't gettin' married!"

Doris sighed, and Bethany slapped a hand over her eyes. Relena pointed an arm at the hall and ordered them out, warning that if she ever caught them eavesdropping again, they'd be polishing the ballroom floor with toothbrushes. Heero glanced over his shoulder at them as they shuffled out, and Hilde caught his eye with a strange look of loving concern. They didn't get a chance to speak as Relena shooed the housemaids away, but if he knew Hilde the way he thought he did, she'd be heading straight for the kitchen next.

Once they were alone again, Relena shut the door and walked a few steps away, lowering her voice. "Marcus is a wonderful young man, and I really do like him...but whatever it was that happened between you and me happened too quickly, and I don't know if I can move on until I understand it. If you respect me at all, I would think you'd--" She paused when Heero made a tiny, exasperated noise and a slightly distasteful face to go with it, most likely because of something she said. He didn't even realize he'd done it until she pointed it out. "And what was that for?"

Now that they were both in a foul mood, Heero really should have left it alone, but the temptation was too much. He turned to face her, arms still folded, and stared her down. "Are you accusing _me_ of not respecting _you_? You, who once dragged me out of bed at four in the morning because you had a dream in which the horses turned into sea monsters, and actually sent me out in the cold and the snow to _check_ on them to see if it was true?"

Relena lifted her chin and looked at the floor. "...that was a long time ago..."

"You, who can't stop showing me off to all your friends like some sort of trophy servant? 'My butler can do anything! He's so much more talented than your butler!'" Heero didn't come anywhere near the falsetto voice Marcus used when imitating Her Ladyship, but his point was clear.

"I never said anything like that to my friends!" the girl protested. "At least, not to their faces...besides, it's part of your job to be a gracious host to my guests!"

The butler's tirade continued, complete with bug-eyed expressions and wild arm gestures. "'Tell us what girls wear in Japan, Heero! Name all the state capitals in America, Heero! Say something in Swedish, Heero!'" He took a bold step forward and shoved a finger into the upturned palm of his opposite hand, as if pointing to a document. "Show me where in my contract it says I have to be a walking, talking parlour game!"

Relena leaned back a bit, visibly stung by his bitter words. She looked everywhere around the room except where he stood. "If you were so upset by it, you should have said something."

Heero looked away as well, calming down a bit. "I'm not sure how much it did, at the time...but perhaps it should have bothered me more. Still, I doubt it would have made much difference. If there's any _one_ thing keeping us apart, it's _your_ lack of respect, not mine, and that may never change." He could have added that an even bigger factor was that he simply wasn't interested, and would rather spend his time in the gym with his braided basket case, as she so eloquently described him, but he figured he was twisting the knife enough as it was. No need to be cruel.

"I have more respect for my staff than most people have on this block!" Relena said, trying to scavenge back some of her authority. "You all get your uniforms issued free, while a lot more like you don't even _have_ a clothing allowance! They have to provide all their own wardrobes and wear them out during working hours, but I tried to treat you better than that! I'm not nearly as strict with my staff as I should be, so I don't see why you should have any cause to complain, because in my eyes, you've been treated exceptionally well!"

The butler's glare worsened. "I was practically a prisoner in Hampshire. You wouldn't let me leave the property without being interrogated, you broke the only working telephone, I have a sneaking suspicion that you were withholding my mail, and--"

"Wait one second!" she yelped. "Alright, yes, I _did_ restrict your freedom somewhat, but we were engaged then, and there were certain things I felt it was my duty to protect you from. And yes, I did keep a few letters that arrived for you, but I gave them all back."

Heero squinted. "When?"

For that, Relena didn't have a quick and easy answer. Nobody yet knew that she was in the little servants' cottage in Hampshire the day Heero went berserk, that she had seen some key staff and acquaintances there, or that by not coming forward with the details of what happened, she felt they were all still lying to her. Heero also didn't know that he had lashed out at Relena and inflicted a split lip and several bruises on her delicate person; she was saving that ugly truth for when she _really_ screwed up and needed to deflect his scorn with guilt. She twisted a bit of ribbon on her dress between her fingers and concocted a partial lie. "I knew you were hiding from me in that little thatched cottage...so, as a peace offering, I collected together all the letters I was keeping from you and...pushed them under the door."

A rapid yet detailed search of Heero's memory produced no such event, but then, he had been pretty much out of it for several days. _Somebody would have told me if a stack of letters turned up out of nowhere, surely...unless nobody noticed them and they're still sitting in Hampshire..._ "Where were these letters from?"

"But...didn't you get them?"

"No."

Guilt took a few stabs at the girl and nearly drew blood, but she had brought the letters right inside the cottage, and it could hardly be called her fault if they were carelessly overlooked. "They were from the Isle of Wight, mostly...and two or three from London in scribbly handwriting."

"I see." That was something of a relief; most of the lost letters were probably from Lord Jeffrhyss, and Heero had no fervent desire to communicate with the man anyway. Duo mentioned writing a few scribbly, badly-composed letters to him from Bridlewood, ones with little or no substantive value other than pleas for a sign that Heero was alright after their other lines of communication were cut. If they were all truly lost, he could easily cope with that.

Relena looked down at the bit of lace in her hands and twisted it more vehemently, admitting to herself with shame that she had hidden something more, purely out of spite. "And one from Ireland, but that one was addressed to Duo, not you."

Suddenly, there was a sharp thump at the door, followed by an 'Ow!' in a very musical tenor. Heero immediately sighed on the inside as Relena thundered up to the door and pounded on it with the side of her right fist. "Who's out there!?" she hollered.

"Nobody," the mousy voice said timidly. "When did I get a letter? I don't remember getting a letter! Where is it? Can I have it?"

Relena flung the door open and glared at the new eavesdropper, holding his head where it had made sudden and unexpected contact with the solid wood door; this was fast becoming an epidemic. She frowned with distaste at the boy and folded her arms sternly. "And I suppose you were 'just passing' and happened to overhear?"

"Maybe," Duo said after a short think. "Don't be too hard on the maids, they didn't tell me anything about scrubbing the ballroom floor with toothbrushes, really they didn't! Now, first, when did I get a letter, and second, gimmie it. Please?"

Swiftly summoning up his powers of reason, Heero guessed that Hilde had indeed sprinted downstairs and told Duo he was being talked about, and that Duo had snuck upstairs to hear for himself. It was also plain that he hadn't heard the entire conversation about the letters. Heero cleared his throat and beckoned the boy over. Duo gave Relena an excessively wide berth as he navigated through the jungle of fine furniture to stand by Heero.

"Earlier this year, in the county," Heero began in a low voice, "Her Ladyship apparently knew about the cottage where I was _studying for those university entrance exams in complete solitude_..." The emphasis he put on the abject lie alerted Duo to the fact that this was the best cover story he could think of on such short notice. He waited for the glimmer of understanding to appear in Duo's eyes before continuing. "She had some letters of mine at the house, and delivered them to me by shoving them under the door."

Before Heero had even finished speaking, Duo paled. "And...there was a letter for me...from Ireland?" His gaze drifted over to Relena, accompanied by a sinking feeling of the worst kind.

Relena was taken aback by the way Duo just stopped blinking. "Yes...yes, there was, and I realize now that it was wrong of me to--"

"_Where_ in Ireland!?" Duo yelled, bounding over to Relena and grabbing her uncouthly by the arms. "You've gotta remember!"

"Take your grubby hands off me!" Relena complained, shoving him away.

"If you can't remember what town it was from, the county will do! Was it Kerry? Clare? Galway? What!?"

"Quiet you! After I dropped off those letters, I absolved myself of any further responsibility towards them! If you can't find them now, it's your own affair!"

Duo thought for a moment, then clasped his hands together languidly and smiled, opting to placate rather than debate. "You know what? You're right. I bet I just put them away and forgot about them." Still smiling, he nudged her out into the hallway, ignoring her squeaks of confusion. "Well, I know you're a busy lady, so I'd better let you get back to doing whatever it is you do, and thanks a bundle for helping us out there, you''ll have to remind us to do the same thing for you someday. Bye now!" He all but slammed the parlour door in her face, whirled around, and leaned tensely on it, wide-eyed like a startled deer, in case she tried to get back in.

Heero looked at him sternly. "You actually know what she's talking about, don't you?"

Duo pressed his ear to the door and listened for any kind of motion on the other side, then began slowly walking towards Heero, wringing his braid in both hands with guilty look on his face. "Heero...I didn't think you'd ever find out...but I _burned_ those letters! I saw them lying in a pile on the floor of the cottage, and they looked like they were all from Jeffrhyss, so I tossed 'em! I had no _idea_ there was a letter for _me_ mixed in!" He stopped walking just out of arms' length, looking all fearful and pathetic and cute. "You're not mad at me for ditching your mail without telling you...are you?"

Heero thought about that briefly. He must have burned them out of brotherly concern, and there was probably no real harm done, since Jeffrhyss was well aware that he was back in London. "No...but tell me next time."

Duo nodded numbly and sat down on the nearest available solid object, a piano bench. Now all he had to worry about was his own lost letter, and if Relena was right about what little she saw, it was a great deal to worry about. "Someone in Ireland must have been trying really hard to track me down, and that was _months_ ago..."

Heero pulled up a red plush chair and sat down opposite Duo, with his elbows perched on his knees. The sad tale they had shared was trickling back into Heero's memory, and thoughts of Helen, her sudden illness, and the quarantine placed on her home flew back and forth across the space between them, silently. "Can you think of who it might have been?"

"...I knew a lot of people there...but I don't think I knew anyone well enough for them to still want to contact me..." Duo gnawed on his lip and picked nervously at the black band holding his braid together while he thought about the few years he spent on the Emerald Isle. "There was the doctor that came to the house and told me to leave, but I can't imagine...or maybe...maybe old Mrs. Kelleghan who lived next door to us, but she's probably...long gone by now..."

The boy's discomfort with the subject was obvious. Any other painful point he could laugh at and feel stronger for his laughter, but not this one. It wasn't even the concept of death that struck him, because he had cheated death on more than one occasion; the deaths of his loved ones, however, was another matter.

"Heero...I have to go there. I have to know who's looking for me."

That was unexpected. Heero sat up straight and wondered if it was really such a good idea. "Whatever was written in that letter was old news a long time ago. They probably think you've ignored it, and they've most likely given up on you or they would have tried again."

"But that's exactly why I _have_ to go! Not just for them, but for me! I'll go crazy if I have to stay here wondering who wanted to talk to me and why!" Duo let go of his braid and ran both hands through his bangs instead. "It might be someone who knew Helen. They could have something really important to tell me, like...like a message. They probably only found me 'cause I keep getting my name in the papers so darn much..."

Also a tender topic. If Duo wasn't so prone to being splashed all over the press, his adoptive parents might never have known where he was or how much money he might have been worth. "How long would you be gone?" Heero asked. His reasons behind the question were just as selfish as they could be, for in this instance, the good of the manor trailed behind at a distant second place.

Duo calculated in his head, then shrugged. "It shouldn't take more than a day or two, and Hilde can manage by herself in the kitchen for that long, I know she can." A sly grin crept across his face, and he leaned forward on his knees. "You know, if I wanna do this by the book, then I have to get official permission from _you_ to take a leave of absence, since you're in charge of the whole staff. Besides Otto, I mean."

Heero harnessed a slight smirk as Duo got up, crept around behind him, hung both arms around his shoulders and bent down close to his ear.

"_Maybe_...maybe a humble offering of super deluxe triple fudge brownies would be a sufficient bribe to exchange for your ever-so-official permission," Duo purred.

The always-alert butler knew darn well when he was being needled for a favour, but considering the source, he didn't mind a bit. "As long as we inform Otto well in advance...you can go."

Duo clamped his arms around Heero's neck and squeezed, choking him. "Thank youuuu!" Heero winced and waited for Duo to tire of playing boa constrictor, but didn't try to free himself. When Duo finally let go, they both stood, but Duo caught hold of Heero's hands and trapped him in place again, swinging their arms playfully back and forth. "That being said...wanna come with?"

Heero was naturally surprised, but rather liked the idea. Still, with Relena's good favour hanging by a thread, it might not have been wise to ask for too much from her too soon. "I don't think we should both be away from the house at the same time," he said cautiously.

"But I don't wanna go there alone," Duo moaned weakly. "I haven't travelled that far by myself for a long time."

"You made it all the way to America by yourself."

"Yeah, but I knew you were on the boat _somewhere_...so, c'mon..." Duo inched forward and smiled. "You can get a couple days off, I know you can."

Running away to Ireland, even for a short while, sounded pretty good compared to staying in London with all sorts of bad moods flying around the house. "It's tempting," Heero admitted quietly. Finally, crumpling shamelessly under the weight of Duo's hopeful stare, he nodded. "I suppose we can both slip away without any drastic repercussions."

Duo hugged him hard. "We need some time away from this place," he said. "It's been really rough lately, y'know?"

"I know."

Trembling with relief, Duo unwrapped himself from Heero and made a very relaxed jog to the parlour doors, pausing before opening one and ducking his head outside. The hall was empty. "Oh, by the way...I'm glad you didn't get reamed too badly for what happened with my folks," he said. "It's just a shame you had to get in trouble at all. Hilde pretty much heard the whole thing, and she said 'Lena whaled on you something awful."

Heero walked over and stood with him in the open doorway, replaying the morning's events and feeling no regrets. "There were things that had to be said...and I got a few good blows in, myself."

"Great job," the chef praised him, slapping him lightly on the arm. "Hey, just be thankful she didn't get started on the food budget! I don't know if she knows how much I'm spending with Quat's sisters around, but when she finds out, it's gonna be hell on wheels!" With that very poignant observation, Duo turned around and headed back to the kitchen to work on lunch. Heero stayed in the doorway and looked worried again, for he hadn't even thought about the food budget. He shut the parlour door and went back to his own work, hoping that in the excitement of the last few weeks, Relena hadn't noticed.

**********  
  


"...and you should see what he's done to the food budget!" Right in the middle of an individually-baked serving of strawberry shortcake, Relena was giving Marcus a blow-by-blow account of everything that was going wrong in her house, starting with the chef and the butler. "His spending has gotten totally out of control!"

"Deary me," Marcus said noncommittally in his lazy Liverpool accent. He and Her Ladyship were seated at a little round table with a prim white lace tablecloth, outside in the sunshine on the lawn of a very prestigious estate somewhere in London. They were there for the celebration of Queen Victoria's birthday, which the owners of the estate had declared would continue to be celebrated on May 24th of each year for as long as they owned the property. It was a garden party to which many of England's elite were invited, the same garden party Relena had attended with Otto exactly a year previous, the infamous day on which she made the acquaintance of one Heero Yuy. Joining the pair on this occasion were Dorothy and Treize, although the latter hadn't stayed at that table long before spotting Lady Une a few yards away and defecting to her table.

"Honestly, it feels as if I've lost control over my own house sometimes," Relena whined, diving back into the shortcake and unleashing her frustrations on the dainty dessert. "Do you ever have staff problems like that?"

Marcus was trying hard to pay attention, but also had Frederick on his lap, and the pouncy puppy was taking up a lot more mental resources. "Mum and Dad entrust the actual day-to-day operations to underlings, so I really don't know, but I get along alright with our servants. They're practically family."

"Well, I think you're both asking for trouble," Dorothy butted in after only her second glass of sherry. "Treating servants like family is like never putting one's dog on a leash. They'll walk all over you, take everything you have for themselves, and you'll never get the stains from their muddy feet out of the carpet. It'll be the ruin of you both unless you exercise some of your rightful superiority and put them in their place."

Frederick pricked up his pointy little ears and tilted his head to the side, wondering if he should be offended by the pretty-smelling human or not. Marcus was definitely offended, but held his tongue, knowing that the two girls were still friends, despite their managerial differences. "So what _has_ your cook done to the food budget?" he asked, trying to deflect the topic slightly.

Relena put down her fork and daubed at her lips with an embroidered handkerchief, clearly glad that he asked. "I figured it out all by myself. We have a few school textbooks in our library, and I read one about basic mathematics that had all sorts of useful things in it for manipulating numbers. I gathered up all the records of what Duo's been spending on food for the last six months and compared them to what he's spending now, and the expenditures have increased by _exactly_ fifty percent! It's as if there are another six people in the house!"

Dorothy had just lifted her sherry glass again and was in the middle of a sip when Relena made the statement about six extra people; the Baroness froze. _Six extra people. Six sisters. I knew there were at least two, but this could mean I have even more work ahead of me than I thought!_ She swallowed at last and put the glass back down, carelessly letting a drop of the golden liquid roll down the cut crystal surface and blot into the tablecloth.

"What do you plan to do about it?" Marcus inquired.

Relena chewed slowly on a bit of cake and wondered how much to tell the boy. It was a complicated mess she'd gotten herself into, for both she and Heero seemed to need a certain proximity to each other, and yet they had both threatened the other with their mutual separation over and over, so much that it was difficult to know when such threats could be believed. It was made twice as complicated by Duo's involvement, and as cozy as she was in Marcus' presence, she wasn't yet ready to divulge to him her most sordid fears about the potential goings-on behind the manor's closed doors. "I don't know."

"Well, you ought to at least find out where all the money is going," Marcus added, working hard to balance the fidgety Frederick, who had spotted a sparrow hopping around a few feet away and wanted to go play with it. In his effort to escape the boy's grip, Frederick stamped his back paws down hard on something he shouldn't have, and Marcus yelped. "_Ouch!_ Gordon bleedin' Bennett, mind where you're puttin' them paws!"

Dorothy laughed heartily, but Relena had strangely lost attention for the conversation, and was too deep in thought to be dragged out to giggle at Frederick's impudence, or Marcus' sudden and comedic lapse into a very lower-class accent. _Heero's right. I do want him to be jealous, for his sake as much as mine...oh, what am I doing? I shouldn't even be thinking his name while I'm with Marcus, not after all the fuss I made about liking him so much, but...in the end, I expect I'll find some excuse to let Heero stay...because I honestly can't stop thinking about him._

"And what about that butler of yours?" Marcus asked next. He had successfully flipped Frederick onto his back and was bouncing him like a baby. The little dog seemed to enjoy it. "That was quite a show he put on last week," he said with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

Relena sat up straight and did her best to act professional, as she came to a reasonably professional decision. "I've decided to keep him on after all. Otto's already ordered new uniforms for most of the staff, Heero included, and it'd be a shame to have them sit in a closet with nobody to wear them, now wouldn't it?" The other two nodded their heads and agreed, thinking it the most sensible thing they'd heard Relena say all afternoon. She finally tossed her honey blonde locks over her shoulder and laughed her aristocratic laugh. "That's the trouble with hiring people so young! They keep growing out of their clothes faster than they can wear them out!"

Laughter rolled all around the table, and as if on cue, the band jumped into a Viennese waltz that brought dozens of people up out of their chairs and into a blank patch of grass next to the buffet tables. Marcus handed Frederick off to Dorothy and asked Relena to dance, and of course she accepted. A few tables away, Treize and Lady Une were already gliding away from their places and floating into the crowd, keeping closer to each other than anyone else. Within moments, they were totally entranced with one another, and saw no one else in the entire park.

"The reading of the will grows closer and closer, my dear," Treize cooed to his brunette companion. "Once Lord Peacecraft's estate is settled, and his wealth entrusted to me, I could be counted among the five most powerful men in the world."

"No one deserves it better, I'm sure," Lady Une purred back at him.

"My strength will be secured in every nation on the globe. Kings and queens will kneel in my presence, and all the earth shall fear my name." Treize pulled Une closer as they swung through a series of elegant turns in the dance. "Does power like that excite you?"

Une favoured him with a catlike smile. "_Yes_, my Lord Count."

"Good."

Not one of the other guests at the garden party knew that there was a gentleman among them who planned to crush them all into dust as soon as he was able, a man who might have been only days away from having the wherewithal to start wars and wipe out nations with a stroke of his pen. Not one of them knew it, and it was a much happier day for living in ignorance.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


_Next, in Episode Forty-Nine: The British army issues its final, official word on the fate of young Captain Peacecraft, and Relena puts all other worries aside to deal with the outcome. Meanwhile, Duo and Heero make tracks to Ireland in the hopes of finding the author of the lost letter._

Ahhh, I love it when a plan comes together. *blows on a little party favour trumpet thingy* One year! =^o^= Meesa so happy! Next episode will be June 3rd, and it's going to look like I'm following last year's schedule for awhile, but there's reasons for everything, and it'll shift into new dates in a little while. TTFN!


	49. Lost and Found

**A.N.:** Gomen nasai, FFN readers! There seemed to be no way to load the fanfiction.net page every time I tried over the last two days, so you're getting this a bit late, but remember, anytime FFN goes down, I'll still be releasing this simultaneously on my website, so in the event of another outage, just hop on over! =^_^= *hopes Candy has been able to hold out this long* =D

**Warning:** Angst. Kleenex advised. =^-^=

**Disclaimer:** My current defence against any corporate lawyers who might decide to beat down my door and present a "cease and desist" order from BanDai is that I've been working on this for a WHOLE YEAR now, and if they even **tried** to shut me down, they'd have hordes of angry fans swarming all over them and plucking out each and every one of their body hairs, one by one by one. Right guys? *looks expectantly at her readers* ... *crickets chirp* ... =o_o;= *gulp* Uh...right? =D

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Forty-Nine: Lost and Found

_"Sorrow is a fruit. God does not make it grow on limbs too weak to bear it." ~Victor Hugo _

June 3rd, 1902

It was well past three in the morning, and Duo still hadn't slept. The long day of travelling that had been put behind him should have been enough to tire him out for the night, but it didn't seem to be working. He tossed and turned for hours, fidgeting uncomfortably as he often did in an unfamiliar bed. What bothered him most was being alone, but coming in a very close second was the place he was in, and the uncertainty before him.

Duo and Heero had spent the previous day packing, preparing the house for their absence, and train-hopping from cosmopolitan London to the laid-back town of Pembroke in Wales, from which point they caught the ferry to Rosslare, County Wexford, Ireland. Heero crossed the border with no trouble at all, passing himself off as Harvey Young as per usual, but Duo had no passport, and if not for a craftily-concocted fiction about Duo having his pocket picked on the ferry, they might not have been placed in the customs office courtesy lounge, from which they easily escaped. By then, it was too late in the day to do any more travelling, so they found rooms at a charming bed-and-breakfast to run out the clock until it was time to carry on.

Obviously, they had separate rooms. It was tearing Duo to shreds inside, because on that night of all nights, he really needed Heero to be there. Knowing that he was only a few feet away in the next room didn't help his insomnia; he needed to curl up to him, wrap his arms around him, and feel his heart beating. He needed to whisper softly of the fears and anguish plaguing him, things he didn't feel he could discuss in a cab, or on the ferry, or the train, and have Heero tell him he was worrying over nothing. He missed those empty reassurances.

The time came that night when Duo decided he wouldn't get one wink of sleep until he discussed it with someone, and there was only one other person available to him, any time, day or night. He rolled out of bed with a thud, hauled himself up to his knees and leaned over the quilt on his elbows, clasping his hands together with great bucketloads of humility pouring out of him.

"...Lord? It's me, the little hellraiser...how's it goin' up there?" He swallowed and knocked himself lightly in the head with his folded hands. _Nice opening..._ "Look...I hope I'm not tearing you away from anything vitally important in China at this hour of the night...but I've gotta talk to someone. I'm scared, Lord. I'm scared of what I'm going to find when I get where I'm going. I mean, if someone's looking for me after all this time, it can't be good news, can it?

"Heero suggested that maybe Helen left me something in her will and they just couldn't find me to tell me until now. He's been trying to cheer me up with ideas that I've got a house coming to me, or a piece of land, something to fall back on if working for Relena gets too awkward, but...I dunno...seems unlikely. I just don't get strokes of luck like that, y'know? I'd probably inherit a weasel farm, or a great big wagon with no wheels...something useless like that. No sense wasting a _good_ inheritance on me, I figure...

"You know I'm not one to complain, but I just...can't understand why I have such a hard time keeping anybody. I mean, am I being punished for something? I know I'm a weird kid, and I'd be the last person to sugar-coat my many faults...but how can I know whether that's why nobody wants me or not? Maybe I've gotten a little _too_ lucky, finding Heero as a friend...maybe he's the biggest reason I'm being punished, if that's what's going on...if it is, I'm sorry, but I don't know what to do about it. I'm actually _happy_ with him, and I _really_ hope that's not as bad a thing as the world's been telling me lately, 'cause if it is, I am _so_ screwed." Catching himself on his language, Duo swallowed and ducked his head a little. "Sorry. Tough times have that effect on me, and I'll shut up in a minute, just as soon as I ask you for one teeny, little thing, okay? Okay...so here goes...

"I want a mother. It's really not that big a thing to ask for, when hundreds of thousands of other people must be asking for boats and mansions and the opportunity to marry into the royal family. It's such a basic thing, and now that I've met the woman who I thought all these years was my real mom, I feel kinda cheated. Hardly anybody needs a mansion or a boat, but everybody needs a real mom. Even _you_ had one, sorta. I don't even know what I'd give to have that feeling, that there was someone somewhere who would always love me no matter how rotten I turned out, and...that's all I could really ask you for, Lord. I've got everything else I need, plus a couple of luxuries on the side, so...if it's not too much trouble...maybe you could find someone to be my mom, and then if you do, I'll know that you don't think I'm a horrible person. Would you do that for me? ...please?"

After his solemn and unilateral conversation, the room seemed even quieter than before, with an eerie atmosphere that couldn't have been described if Duo had a sea full of ink and a forest of paper. Eventually, he crawled back into bed, still terribly vexed, but slowly giving into fatigue. Within minutes, his insomnia couldn't compete with the spiritual calm that came with pouring out his heart to the Almighty, and he fell asleep.

**********  
  


When Duo and Heero regrouped in the dining room of the bed and breakfast, Duo was strangely quiet. Thinking that perhaps he didn't get enough rest, Heero asked him how he slept. 'Fine' was all he said, and it was the last thing he said for several hours. They ate breakfast in silence, or rather, Heero ate a normal-sized meal while Duo shoved his around on his plate until it was barely recognizable as food. It soon seemed that the only thing that might cure the boy of his voiceless state was progress, so Heero settled up with the landlady and led Duo out to the train station as soon as he could.

On the platform, Duo stared blankly at the trains and the passengers, and didn't seem totally aware of where he was, but underneath the pallid mask, he knew. Ireland was quite a lot like England, but at the same time, every detail Duo had become used to over the past few years was just different enough to throw off his emotional equilibrium, resulting in more silence. Luckily, he had already talked Heero's ear off the day before about local geography, so the more verbal twin was able to request the appropriate train tickets. Heero was anticipating a very long, very quiet ride. Many months ago, he would have preferred it, but not now.

The train took them west through Wexford County, across Waterford Harbour, and into the region of Cork. Slowly, Duo began to perk up as a glittering green landscape appeared to him through the window. They had a private compartment with the shade pulled down on the door, obscuring them from passers-by in the corridor; Duo sat facing west, with the window on his right so he could see what was up ahead, and Heero sat opposite him, travelling backwards, so he could keep tabs on the boy's apparent mood. Finally, as they rolled past a stretch of the Blackwater River, he gradually came back to life.

"See that right there?" the chef said, pointing out the partly-open window to a home on the outskirts of a village along the river. "That guy on the roof of that house, see him?"

Heero looked and saw a little cottage with a straw roof on the horizon, and there was a little dark speck of a man in overalls and a cap, shaving bits off the edge of the roof with a short sickle. "Mm-hm..."

"They say thatchers hide a purse full of money somewhere in the straw when they're thatching a new roof," Duo explained enthusiastically. "If they ever tell anyone where it is, though, they'll fall under a terrible curse. Betcha didn't know that..."

Heero gave it some very rapid thought and arched a random eyebrow. "Of course he'd be cursed. He'd never see the money again."

Duo laughed. It was just a little laugh, but he'd been out of practice for a few days, so one couldn't expect total recovery in five minutes. He focused back on the window and let out a long sigh as the scenery became more and more familiar. One step beyond the familiar, and it became entrancing, full of rolling green hills that still glistened with morning dew, tiny white dots where little clusters of buildings huddled together in the distance, all capped with a sky of the brightest blue. The air inside the train compartment had changed as well, once polluted with cigar smoke and coal fumes, now delicately perfumed by passing trees thickly laden with fragrant flowers. It was the closest thing to paradise either of them had ever seen.

After a tiring journey of two hundred miles or so, the train began to slow down as it approached another town in which the standard exchange of passengers would take place before moving on to the next stop. The town was deep in County Kerry, almost touching the ocean, and was surrounded on all sides by the most breathtaking lands imaginable. Three sparkling lakes shone in the distance, bouncing sunlight off their glass-like surfaces and scattering it deftly. Emerald green mountains stood watch over the valley, giving only the highest of clouds permission to dance across the blanket of blue hovering over massive fields of lush, green trees. Astonished by the magnitude of the splendour around them, the boys stepped off the train and into the city of Killarney.

With one suitcase each, they paused up against one of the outside walls of the station and gathered their thoughts under a carved wooden shield mounted on an iron pole just above their heads, a shield painted blue with three golden crowns. The town itself was a busy place which retained much of its old world charm; down the street in either direction were a multitude of brick storefronts, each pasted with a different colourful emulsion, and as the pair walked down the cobbled road, they passed pubs, market stalls, corner shops and every establishment in between, all bustling with midday activity. At no other time did Duo feel more strongly that America was his home in name only.

"Where should we start looking?" Heero asked once the dazzling effects of the countryside were blocked by city buildings.

Duo drifted off momentarily, lost in remembrances, then snapped back on topic. "Dr. Walsh's house, I guess. He was the last one I talked to before I left." They didn't need to rehash what happened. Helen fell terribly ill years before, and Dr. Walsh was the one who sealed off her home to all visitors, expecting the worst from an illness he never named in front of the young boy who had been living there peacefully. He was the first logical person to check up on if there was any unfinished business from that terrible time.

The boys voted against finding a hotel before carrying on, for Duo couldn't wait any longer to solve this particular mystery. Suitcases in hand, they made their way through the city centre, dodging horses, carts, and children playing in the rain-filled gutters towards Duo's old neighbourhood. The chef gazed longingly at the happy children, but kept on walking.

It was a long walk, made even longer by Duo stopping every hundred yards to point out places he'd been and trouble he'd gotten into. "I remember that fence!" he exclaimed joyously, dragging Heero over to look at a wooden plank fence with a tattered layer of brown paint. "I was bringing home a basket of groceries and I got tired along the way, so I put the basket down and leaned against the fence for awhile. You should've seen the big brown stripes across my back after that! For a penny or two, they might've invested in a 'Wet Paint' sign, for cryin' out loud! ...and look over there! That's the very same puddle where I lost my shoe in the mud and had to hop home! Luckily, that wasn't a grocery day..."

Heero paid dutiful attention and let Duo ramble on as much as he wanted, with a trace of a smile. It was much better than watching him sit still as a statue and not talk at all.

After a dozen more such interruptions, Duo spotted a Victorian two-storey house in cream-coloured brick, and recognized it easily. "Hey...hey, this is it! This is Dr. Walsh's house!" The boys scampered up the front walk and put down their cases, rang the bell, and rubbed their tired arms while they waited for the good doctor to appear. Duo was bristling with excitement, and somehow had a wonderful hunch that Dr. Walsh had been the author of the lost letter. Fate, however, disagreed.

A pleasantly plump, middle-aged woman with curly tan hair and spectacles opened the door and peered curiously at the young men on her doorstep. The boys peered back with even greater confusion. "Afternoon," she said cautiously in a thick Irish brogue. "Can ah help you at'all?"

Finally coherent enough to do his share of the talking, Duo stepped forward. "Yes, ma'am, we're looking for Dr. Walsh. Are you his housekeeper?"

The woman looked surprised and shook her head. "There's no doctor livin' here, to be sure. 'Tis only me an' my two daughters since my late, dear Patrick was taken, God rest his soul." While Duo and Heero exchanged odd looks, the woman called her daughters to the door to illustrate. Within seconds of hearing that there were two handsome lads on the step looking for someone, the girls very nearly trampled their mother trying to get a look at them. They were both tall and fetching, with long curly hair, and definitely of marrying age. They seemed to be sizing Duo and Heero up with their eyes and communicating telepathically to decide how to divvy them up between the two of them. "Margaret? Nancy? Either of you heard of a Dr. Walsh?"

The girls barely heard their mother's question as they drooled and struggled against the portly woman's strong restraining arm. Eventually, they each mumbled a half-hearted 'No, mother' but quickly returned to silently imagining their dishy young visitors tied down and wearing nothing but a thin layer of marmalade. In unison, Duo and Heero took one baby step back.

"Uh...th-thank you, um...we must have the wrong house," Duo stammered.

"Sure you won't come in for a cup of tea anyway?" the woman asked genially. Her daughters' eyes lit up like fireworks at the suggestion.

Duo grinned his self-defence grin and backed up even further, tugging needlessly on Heero's arm. "No, thanks, we've gotta get goin'." They picked up their cases and speed-walked all the way to the street, not stopping until they were well out of sight. Feeling not only confused but a little bit cheap, they flopped down on the curbside to regroup. "I could've sworn that was the right house," Duo insisted over and over.

"Maybe your Dr. Walsh moved," Heero suggested.

"Yeah, s'pose..." Tightening his lips into a thin line, Duo concentrated on the list of people he used to know and came up with the next most likely person to contact. "I know who we can try next...Beatrice O'Malley, lives at the end of Tullemore Close next to the duck pond. She was a huge gossip and just had to know everybody's business, so if Dr. Walsh moved away, she'd know where he went."

Heero nodded in agreement, and they picked themselves up off the road to try again. It was yet another long walk to the other side of the neighbourhood, punctuated by a layover at a place called Connor's Cafe for a quick lunch, but within an hour, they arrived at a grey brick cottage that was indeed next to a duck pond. Mentally crossing their fingers, they knocked on the door.

"It's _Mister_ O'Malley I feel bad for," Duo whispered while they waited. "The woman never stops talking, and hardly ever says anything directly to him unless she's giving out orders. Poor guy's probably never had a moment's peace the whole time they've been married."

The heavy red-painted door with black iron hinges swung open, and a short, skinny, withered man with bushy sideburns who might have crumpled under too heavy a hat appeared, tilting his gray, balding head back so he could look down his nose at the visitors, who were actually an inch or two taller than he. "If ye've come fer the pig, ah've already sold it!"

"No no, Mr. O'Malley," Duo corrected him with a broad smile. "It's me, Duo Maxwell! Remember? The little kid from the flower shop?"

Mr. O'Malley studied him close-up, then smiled and extended a hand, clapping the boy hard on the shoulder. "Why, so 'tis! What brings ya back this way?"

Relieved to be remembered by someone, Duo clasped his hand and shook it vigorously. "Just reminiscing, getting back in touch," he said. "Actually, I've come a long way to talk to Mrs. O'Malley, if that's alright."

"Why, 'course 'tis!" Mr. O'Malley crooned happily. "Right this way..." He stepped back and let the boys in, and Duo thought how wonderful it was to see Mr. O'Malley so relaxed and contented; he was quite sure he'd never seen the man in that condition before. "Have yerselves a seat, and I'll go fetch her."

Duo and Heero were pointed to the front sitting room, where they availed themselves of a worn but cushy floral sofa, taking time to admire the life's collection of knickknacks scattered about the room. They had less than a minute to enjoy the surroundings before the sound of footsteps called them to attention, and Mr. O'Malley re-emerged...carrying a large brass urn. The boys gaped.

"Here she is," the man said, plunking the urn unceremoniously down on the coffee table. "Go ahead, talk to her all you like! The beauty part is, _she can't talk back no more_!" Mr. O'Malley threw his head back and laughed, just a little at first, but the laughter soon grew out of control until he was howling maniacally at full volume as he walked back out of the room, and presumably, out into the garden. After that, the ticking of the grandfather clock was the only sound.

Duo swallowed, not taking his eyes off the urn. "Uh.....m-maybe all those whiskey sours and rich desserts finally did her in."

"Maybe," Heero said slowly, also rivetted to the tall brass canister. "Or maybe he snapped and garotted her with a cheese wire..."

The red door opened, and two boys with suitcases ran out of the house as fast as they could.

Efforts to find out who wrote Duo the letter stalled somewhat after the Beatrice O'Malley incident. More than slightly discouraged, he moped up and down the streets looking for anyone else he used to know, with Heero trailing close behind, unable to think of a way to reassure him. Some time later, as the afternoon warmth reached its peak, Duo stopped in front of a row of semi-detached shops, squarish and plain-looking. He centred himself in front of the pale green unit with the striped awning and dropped his suitcase, staring. Heero stopped next to him and followed his gaze. The whole row of shops was in a state of mild to moderate disrepair, and the one in the middle seemed to be the worst off. Its awning was torn and dusty, the green exterior paint was flaking off badly, one of the upper floor windows was broken, and it appeared to be abandoned. "Is this it?" he asked.

Without answering audibly, Duo took a few more steps towards the building until he could read the faded sign over the door. It simply said 'Flowers.' He looked up at the broken window and pointed. "That's my room." They both stared at the window for awhile, but eventually Heero wandered off to inspect the other buildings in the row, leaving Duo alone with his memories.

Happy sounds fluttered past the boy's ears, muffled slightly by the passage of time, and he felt himself getting a bit misty-eyed, but pulled himself together before he could embarrass himself royally. When he was firmly grounded in the present and in no danger of blubbering insensibly, something unfamiliar caught his eye, a piece of white card with faded lettering nailed to the front of the building beside the door. It was so stained and the exterior paint so mottled that the poster and the wall blended almost seamlessly together. He walked right up to it and squinted at the sun-bleached words.

"Heero! Come look at this!" he called out. Heero ambled back over, but Duo was making an impressive effort to read the poster without his help. "Be it here...hereby known that this...estable.....e_stab_lishment has..." The chef's eyes widened. "...has _moved_ to number twenty-three, Fieldstone Avenue!" He spun around, demanding an explanation from his quiet companion. "What does that mean!? How can they move a business without the owner's consent!? Did she leave it to somebody who didn't like this corner of the city!? They can't have moved it! This was her home!"

Heero settled his hands on Duo's shoulders, trying to calm him down. "The whole block of shops is abandoned. They all have a notice pinned to the wall saying they've been relocated somewhere else. Something extraordinary must have occurred to cause that."

Duo shook himself out of Heero's grip, dashed over to his waiting suitcase and scooped it up. "I've got to find out what it was. C'mon, let's find this Fieldstone Avenue!" He ran off down the street, and Heero had no choice but to run after or lose sight of him. They were both growing far too fatigued to hurry about so much, but there was no stopping the boy.

The next leg of their journey was a winding, twisting path that took them all over Killarney as Duo searched for the road listed on the poster. Exhaustion followed on their heels but never quite caught up to them as they shot through the afternoon crowd of shoppers and horse carts, stopping to ask person after person for accurate directions. Fieldstone Avenue turned out to be closer to the edge of town, where a few new houses and shops were being built, where the cobbles were clean and newly-laid, and where the trees looked no more than saplings. Duo searched every storefront one by one, and there, over the door of a brand-new building with freshly-painted wood siding and bright, clear windows, was a glimmering placard of forest green, with the following words painted overtop in an inviting pink: 'Fieldstone Flowers, H. O'Daly, proprietress.'

Duo threw down his suitcase and ran inside.

Heero had fallen back a few yards and only saw Duo disappear into the shop after discarding his meagre belongings by the roadside. "Duo!" he shouted to him, but it was useless. Heero jumped out of the way of an oncoming carriage just in time, picked up the extra bag, and hurried inside after him.

The perfume of a thousand fresh blossoms struck Heero in the face, mingling with the aromas of potting soil and chlorophyll. There was an elderly man in a linen waistcoat standing at the bottom of a set of stairs, having abandoned his post behind the counter to chide the braided intruder who had shot past him and was already near the top. "You can't go up there, that's private! You, boy! Come down from there!"

Picking a spot on the floor between two large vases of tulips, Heero set the cases down and ran to the stairs, gently nudging the old man out of the way. "Allow me," he offered, jogging up the two half-flights of stairs separated by a small landing and a right turn of ninety degrees. When he neared the top, he spotted Duo standing in front of an open doorway looking in, with his back partly turned to the stairs, not moving an inch. There was something unusual about his posture, as he was holding onto to the door frame with both hands, and what little he could see of his face from a rear quarter angle was a look of astonishment and heart-stopping emotion. Heero stopped three steps from the top and watched him, wondering what the matter was, when suddenly, Duo launched himself forward and disappeared into the little room. There was a strange noise, the fluffing of fabric combined with the violent creaking of springs, and two voices cried out softly from within.

A tingly feeling shot up Heero's spine, a totally new experience for him, and he crept up the remaining stairs as quietly as he could, then to the doorway in painful slow-motion. Bracing himself against the unknown, he peered inside. The room was a bedchamber brimming with fresh flowers from the shop downstairs. Sunlight streamed in through the only window, accompanied by a gentle summer breeze that rustled the lace curtains ever so slightly. There were modest new furnishings in wood painted white, and the centrepiece of the room was a bed covered in a fluffy white comforter and trimmed with many comfy pillows, also of the purest white. Curled up in the middle of the soft white cloud was a trembling, broken Duo, wrapped in the arms of a lovely young woman.

Heero had to grab hold of the door frame as well, taking in the spectacular sight. Duo was actually shaking as he buried his head in the woman's shoulder, and she held him as tight as she could, stroking his hair in a motherly fashion. She was a magnificent vision of a woman, even in her obviously sickly state. Dressed in a simple white nightgown, she appeared to have been ill for a long time, and at an age of little more than thirty, had wasted away terribly, with dark circles under her eyes and thin, delicate limbs. Nevertheless, she was still striking in her own way. Most amazing to Heero's gaze were her deep blue eyes, long blonde hair woven into a braid, and most of all, her kindly heart-shaped face. Despite her frailty, she was beautiful, like an angel...just as Duo had described her. Together they wept and shivered, and watching the pair of them, Heero began to feel as if he was intruding on something too beautiful for him to understand.

Behind him, he could hear the faint but heavy footsteps of the elderly man slowly catching up to the ruckus. Hearing the strange sounds, he looped around to Heero's right side and glanced into the room, also feeling the weight of the scene before them. With an unusual amount of sensitivity, Heero moved away from the door and silently beckoned the man back to the stairs, and they padded down to the flower shop below, leaving Duo and Helen to share their tears in solitude.

**********  
  


When Relena needed to find Lucrezia Noin in a hurry, somehow the message got through to her without Relena ever finding out exactly where she lived. On the whole, she knew terribly little about the woman to be including her in important family matters, but she was a special case, and very likely would always be special to them in one way or another. Today in particular, Relena felt she needed her presence.

Once word trickled down the grapevine to Sally's townhouse that Noin was invited to Bridlewood on most urgent business, she rushed there straight away. Upon reaching the manor and stepping through the heavy walnut doors, she was greeted by tense faces all around, and was quickly guided to the parlour, where it seemed nearly the entire household was gathered around the scarlet sofa, and around Relena. The housemaids were curled up on the floor, except Doris, who couldn't bend down that far. Quatre sat on Her Ladyship's left hand, with Trowa standing behind him, and Dorothy sat on her right. Count Khushrenada was lounging a few spots distant and was trying hard to ignore Frederick, who insisted on hanging around his ankles, wagging his tail and looking up at him expectantly for no apparent reason.

"Thank you for coming," Relena said softly. "Please sit down."

Noin nodded and helped herself to the adjacent sofa, between Doris and Otto, who had shown her inside. She briefly wondered where Duo and Heero were, but decided not to trouble herself with it until necessary. "I came as soon as I heard you wanted me. Is something wrong?"

"That's what we're about to find out," Relena answered. She held up a small beige envelope with an expression somewhere between hopeful and grim. "Telegram...from the army. I thought...whatever it said...you should hear it at the same time."

Noin looked down. "Oh." They were expecting some kind of official statement regarding Milliardo, but it was so much like the army, to avoid saying anything until there was something to say, that it brought a cloud of worry over the sealed document the likes of which few present had ever felt. Noin squared her shoulders and lifted her chin bravely. "Whenever you're ready."

Relena wasn't sure whether she was ready or not, but she tore open the envelope with a zeal that surprised even her. Skipping over the salutation and other unimportant lip-flapping, she quickly started on the subject of the message, what they had all gathered to hear. "...'It is my privilege to inform you that with the signing of'...such-and-such, by whomever...'the war in South Africa is officially over.'"

Relieved sighed and smiles drifted around the room, but Relena and Noin were still stone-faced, waiting for the bit that really mattered. Relena read on, slowly dropping her hands into her lap and lowering her eyes when she found the piece of information she was looking for. "'However...'"

The faces around her fell, and Quatre quickly put an arm around her, forgetting his lowly place. "He's really gone?"

"They couldn't find him," Relena corrected gently. "They say they've combed every inch of the area where he was last seen, during that one battle, and there's no trace of him anywhere."

Most everyone in the room moaned in sympathy for the girl, and now that they knew more of Lucrezia, for her as well. Noin was never terribly fond of sympathy, however, and chose the more difficult reality to cling to. "If they haven't found him, then they haven't found him dead. We can sit here sorrowing if we want to, but I won't allow myself to believe he's gone until I see his body brought before me."

A few of the staff were shocked at her bold indelicacy in front of Relena, but to their surprise, she agreed. "Me too. No news is good news, and we should all carry on as normal until we have reason to do otherwise. Mr. Marlowe says we can let the funeral proceedings wait for as long as we feel comfortable, and that's exactly what we'll do."

While the staff all joined voices to cheer the women on, Treize and Dorothy looked tiredly at each other, and seemed to share the same thought. _Delays, delays, delays._

**********  
  


Heero waited downstairs for an awfully long time, graciously listening to the elderly man name each and every species of flower he was selling while they gave the two upstairs their space. Retail traffic in the flower shop was light, but the occasional sale was made with a smile, just often enough to keep the man moderately busy and give Heero time to think. He sat perched on the bottom two steps with his chin propped up in one hand or the other, staring between the forgotten luggage and the bustling street outside.

It was becoming the most amazing case of chronic misinformation Heero had ever witnessed, and he pondered what a long stretch of time had been wasted just on the very plausible assumption that Helen was dead. Clearly she was not, and if Duo had made the trip back to Ireland even once during his troubled adolescence, his whole future might have been vastly different, but of course, by then he was so poor that travel was impossible, and he could not have concealed himself on the ferry to England as easily.

"Heero?" a happy voice called from the top of the stairs. "It's alright, come on up!"

Heero looked up, looked at the old man behind the counter, and slowly rose to his feet, making his way carefully up the steps. Duo greeted him at the door, still brushing moisture from his tired eyes, and led him to the bedside by one arm. The blonde angel smiled and propped herself up weakly as Duo presented his travelling companion proudly.

"Helen, this is Heero," he said. "He taught me to read and write, and he's been my best friend for months."

Helen fought hard to extend a hand to the boy, and he caught the hand in both of his and cradled it. "Thank you for lookin' after him so well," the woman breathed in a soft, musical voice. Her thick Irish accent made her words even sweeter sounding, despite her weakness of tone.

"I couldn't have asked for a better friend myself," Heero answered, smiling proudly at Duo.

Duo smiled back, then climbed back up on the bed next to Helen, cuddling her needfully. "I wish I could've read your letter, but it got lost. All I knew was that someone from around here tried to find me, but I didn't expect it to be you...I mean, the way I left...the way things were.....I thought you were..." He swallowed hard against fresh tears, and Helen gave him another comforting squeeze.

"Ohhh, me sweet little potato dumpling," she cooed lovingly, "I'm sorry I frightened you. I expected to be gone by now, I'll admit...but I regretted not sayin' g'bye properly for such a long time, while I waited..." She sniffled and smiled, pushing Duo away just enough to hold his arms up and size him up with her eyes. "I'm glad I made it this long, to find your picture in the paper, and see how big you've gotten! Look at ya! Yer legs are that long, yer probably taller than me now!"

While they laughed, Heero pulled up a chair as close as he could, letting them guide the conversation wherever it wanted to go. Duo waved off his added height and took a long look at Helen, still too starry-eyed to notice how sick she was. "Well, look at you! I mean, you're here! You're actually _here_! You must not have been that sick after all, right?"

"Oh no, I _was_ sick when you left," Helen affirmed with wide, expressive eyes. "I might've had a better recov'ry if that bleedin' Dr. Walsh hadn't mucked things up with his quackery."

Duo was taken aback by her angry tone. He'd never heard her speak that way about anyone. "What happened?"

"You remember our old shop, built just like this one?" she asked.

Duo nodded energetically. "We went by it on our way here."

"You remember the wallpaper in my bedroom? That green stuff with the filigree pattern?"

"...yeah, I do! It was peeling a bit around the edges, but most of it was in such good shape, it would've been a shame to rip it all down."

Helen paused dramatically. "We should have." At the sight of Duo's puzzled expression, she elaborated. "'Twas the blessed wallpaper that was makin' me ill."

"Wha...that doesn't make any sense!" Duo cried. "Who told you it was the wallpaper's fault!?"

"One of the _proper_ doctors that came from Dublin," she said. "Walsh hadn't a clue what was wrong with me. After he sent you away, he poked me and jabbed me for all kinds of tests, and in the same week, he thought I had cholera, typhoid, scarlet fever, yellow fever, green an' purple polka dot fever, anything you could imagine. Then he pumped me all full of medicine that made me _worse_, hoping that I had something recognizable by science, but after weeks and weeks of suff'rin' in that sick bed, he still didn't know why I was so poorly. It was only when he thought he mighta discovered some new kind of disease, something he could put his own name to, that he started bringin' in experts to confirm his findings. 'Twas one o' them that told me the wallpaper was to blame, and that I'd get worse an' worse unless I left too.

"The fella called it 'Scheeles Green,' and said it had a long history of killin' people off. There's even talk of it killin' Napoleon, although I never woulda believed it until it almost happened to me. There was rising damp in that room, and all up the back wall. Some kind of mould was growing behind the furniture, where I couldn't see it, and 'twas the mould that released a toxin out of the green pigment in the wallpaper, so I was told."

"Long-term inhalation of airborne arsenic," Heero added as quick as he thought of it.

Duo's head snapped around to give Heero a surprised look, then back at Helen as she smiled and pointed across at him. "Sure, an' that's a smart friend you've got there."

"So...I didn't have to leave you after all?" Duo whimpered.

Helen patted his hand reassuringly. "If you'da stayed, you'd have gotten as sick as I was. You _had_ to go, and so did everyone else in that block that had the same wallpaper."

Duo accepted that fact grimly, then turned bright as he searched for something hopeful in the grim and bizarre story. "But...you're okay now, right? You're out of that house, so you're not sick anymore! You can come back to London with me for a visit and see my place!"

Helen's face darkened, and she looked down. "I'm sorry, love...but I'm still too poorly to travel...and I'll likely be this way for quite some time."

Agitated, Duo sat up on his knees, sinking an extra half-inch into the bed covers as his eyes crinkled in worry. "W-what do you mean? If it was the wallpaper that made you sick--"

"It made me _very_ sick, Duo, and very weak. I was so drained afterwards..." She was suddenly interrupted by a violent coughing fit that kept her doubled over and hacking for half a minute, even with Duo's arms rushing to steady her. She flopped back against her mountain of white pillows when the coughing subsided, and looked weakly at the boy. "Since I've left that house, there's been no more arsenic poisoning.....but I've come down with tuberculosis."

Duo shivered as he exhaled, stricken with a new terror. "...b-but I've only just found you," he squeaked, his voice fading a little at the end. He crumpled into her arms again, and Heero slumped forward, perching his elbows on his knees uncomfortably. Tuberculosis was one of those things that science had thus far failed to triumph over, and the wealthier patients could only send themselves to country sanatoriums for bedrest and country air, which was less of a cure and more of a comfort while they waited for the inevitable. Helen had never been affluent, and seemed to be just managing to buy food with the humble profits from the shop downstairs.

"Never mind, love," Helen said in a soothing tone, "that Jimmy Ferguson downstairs, he fixes all the meals and he'll be working on supper soon. Why don't you nip down and ask him to make double, so you can stay with me awhile?"

Duo sat back and pasted on a brave smile. "Let me do the cooking. Please? I've gotten really good at it! You should see how thick my cookbook is back home!"

"Alright then," she said through a laugh, "and you two can tell me all about life in London."

Nodding, Duo stood up, then leaned over to give her one more hug before leaving the room. "Don't you worry about anything," he whispered. "I'll take care of you, I promise. You took care of me when I was sick, and I'm going to look after you for as long as it takes."

With that, he left, and Heero followed him out, taking a second to look over his shoulder at Helen as she fell into another one of her coughing fits. This was turning out to be a terrible situation for his little mouse, but for the life of him, he couldn't think of a way to fix it.

**********  
  


Many hours were spent up in Helen's bedroom talking about old times, exchanging stories from the past several years, and not once were the subjects of death and disease introduced into the conversation. Helen's stubborn cough was the only vivid reminder of reality, and the three of them pretended to ignore it in model fashion. The boys were invited to stay overnight wherever there was space, as it was far too late in the day to begin travelling back anyway.

Long after dinner, just past dusk, and when Helen had fallen asleep, Duo vanished from sight. Old Jimmy Ferguson had gone back to his own home, leaving Heero awake with no one to talk to. A short exploration of the house revealed a fire escape ladder leading from just outside the main floor kitchen window all the way up to the roof. On a hunch, he levered himself out the window and climbed the ladder, and sure enough, Duo was curled up with his arms wrapped around his knees, staring at the fading traces of the sunset. It was a spectacular view full of valleys, mountains, and glistening water, and it turned out to be a very good thing to be relocated to the outer edge of the city.

Heero sat down next to him and crossed his ankles, noticing that Duo had something shiny and metallic in one hand, and was turning it over and over on its chain. It looked like the cross he occasionally wore; without glancing up, Duo seemed to sense that Heero was watching it. "Bet you thought this was part of that costume for the masquerade ball," he remarked.

Heero didn't need to answer. They both knew the cross had only been visible a few very brief times since they had known each other.

"She gave it to me for Christmas one year, when money was tight," Duo continued. He thought for awhile about his recent prayers, then decided to get a second opinion. "Do you think I'm a bad person?"

"Of _course_ not," Heero insisted.

Duo dropped the cross back down inside his shirt and looked up at the stars that were just beginning to poke through the blueberry sky. "Then why do I have to beg and plead for something that I really, really want, and then have it taken away from me as soon as I get it?"

"She said herself that she's been sick on and off for years now," Heero reminded him. "If she was going to fade away as soon as you turned your back, I'd be very surprised."

"But she's not getting any better," Duo said. "I can tell when she's trying to act tough for my sake, and she knows she hasn't got much time left." He put off what he was about to say next for as long as he could, because he wasn't looking forward to Heero's reaction, but the time had come. "I'm not going back."

Again, a chill shot through Heero's system. "What?"

"I can't leave her like this. I don't know when I'll be home, but I can't leave tomorrow. Tell Hilde she's in charge of the kitchen, and help her out as much as you can. Will you do that for me?"

It all felt so rushed, so last-minute, and so very wrong, but Heero lacked the physical capacity to deny Duo any request, no matter how dismal. He stood quickly, wanting to rush back inside and think about how this trip got out of control. "Whatever you want." He turned and vanished down the fire escape ladder, not hearing Duo's faint and downcast sigh.

Heero hid himself in the sitting room just off the kitchen, where he would be spending the night on the sofa. Duo would have the spare room, of course, right next to Helen's so he could leap to her rescue if she made even the slightest sound in the night. The implication was there that Duo would eventually be coming back to London, but after the last two harrowing days, Heero didn't have the strength to be that optimistic. He saw the way he looked at her, and even with his limited imagination he could believe that their fondness for each other must be ten times what he himself could ever experience. The possibility remained that Duo would stay in Ireland permanently.

_And where would that leave me?_ Heero was never prone to selfish thoughts in the past, but Duo was his lifeline. Beyond him, the choices were slavery and death. The uncertain future was churning up his insides like gristle through a meat grinder, but he couldn't turn to his mouse for any sort of peace now. Sinking down onto the sofa, he propped his elbows on his knees and leaned his forehead into both hands, looking for something, anything in his memory that could stabilize him enough to induce sleep.

_...peace comes from harmony...harmony comes from oneness...oneness comes from obedience..._

It was going to be a long night.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


_Next, in Episode Fifty: When Duo fails to return or even contact Heero in any way, terrible insecurities fill the air, and Heero finds himself contemplating a difficult choice. Dorothy makes a bold attempt to spy on Quatre's sisters, but isn't aware that she's being watched._

*sniffle* WAAHHH! =;_;= I'm such a meanie...but seriously, there are going to be some cool historical notes to go with this episode, especially about the wallpaper problem. Dangerous stuff, really it was. Also, I'll have pictures of Ireland! YAY! Not pictures that I personally took, I'm not that lucky, but still. As soon as I reorganize the notes index, we'll see some lovely greenery, we will! =^_~= Mark down June 12th for the next episode, and remember, it sure looks like we're following last year's schedule, but that's bound to change.


	50. Cherry Pie

**Disclaimer:** My current defence against any corporate lawyers who might decide to beat down my door and present a "cease and desist" order from BanDai is that I've been working on this for a WHOLE YEAR now, and if they even **tried** to shut me down, they'd have hordes of angry fans swarming all over them and plucking out each and every one of their body hairs, one by one by one. Right guys? *looks expectantly at her readers* ... *crickets chirp* ... =o_o;= *gulp* Uh...right? =D

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Fifty: Cherry Pie

_"If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it was, and always will be yours. If it never returns, it was never yours to begin with." ~Unknown _

June 12th, 1902

Seven days had come and gone, and not one word from Duo. A letter could have reached London long before then, a telegram would have taken mere hours, or even if he found a well-equipped establishment and asked a favour of the owner, a telephone call promised instantaneous relief, but none of these came. Heero started each day since their parting by reassuring himself that he was needed more at Bridlewood than he was in Ireland, and that leaving Duo there was technically the correct decision, but he never believed himself past breakfast. By now, he should have heard _something_, he reasoned over and over again. Duo wasn't the sort of thoughtless person who would emigrate indefinitely without saying goodbye. He was supposed to be so much kinder than that.

It wasn't long before Heero was skipping breakfast altogether, to sit in the foyer and wait for the postman in case he happened to be early. Every day he grew more and more disappointed, and the nagging doubts compounded themselves, with interest. Ireland was so clean, so beautiful, and so full of memories that it wasn't difficult to imagine that Duo would prefer it to London. And, of course, there was Helen, a heavenly dream born out of a years-long nightmare; the history Duo must have had with her was difficult to compete with, and to Heero's logical and orderly mind, if Duo chose the more attractive of two homes, it was rational and straightforward, and not to be argued with.

Just considering that possibility had an unfortunate effect on Heero. His sleep was disturbed, his appetite was either out of control or nonexistent, and several times he had seriously considered having a drink for the first time since the hunt ball. Forasmuch as he tried to put on an outwardly show of strength and reliability, he was still dependant on others, as he had always been; first his master, and now Duo.

While Heero struggled with the moral dilemma in which he was firmly mired, he finally spotted the postman coming up the front walk, and was at the door to meet him in a flash. Grabbing the small stack of letters he carried, he ran back inside and practically slammed the door in the man's face in his urgency to see what had arrived. He flipped through the envelopes, putting a mental checkmark beside everything that wasn't his.

_Invitation for Relena...quarterly statement from the bank...letter from Bethany's pen pal in New Zealand...bill from the tailor for the new uniforms...junk...more junk..._ He froze on the last letter, a small beige envelope with his name on it. He dropped the rest and tore it open without stopping to study the handwriting, pulling from it a squarish piece of paper with a single line of writing on it. He read it quickly, realized what it actually was, and wilted.

_No..._

It wasn't the happy news he was longing to hear. Slowly coming to his senses, he stooped to pick up the rest of the mail and dropped it off on the Chippendale table, next to the telephone. Numb from the neck up, he pocketed his own letter, and went back to his work, appearing strong and reliable, as always.

**********  
  


Something happened on this day that hardly ever happened any other day--the kitchen was empty. Duo was missing, Heero was moping, and Hilde was so over-confident about her abilities that she didn't feel it necessary to spend every moment of her time on food preparation. Nobody else was around, so the conditions were absolutely perfect for a little spy work on the side. With that in mind, Dorothy put on her softest-soled shoes for noise reduction, and padded downstairs to have a look around.

Relena knew the food budget had gotten out of control, but she was too busy worrying about her brother to wonder why. Also, Dorothy knew something that she didn't, that there were unwelcome pests polluting her cellar, and she was determined to get a proper look at them if she was to have any hope of eliminating them from the playing field. She still didn't know how to do away with half a dozen girls without anyone noticing, or even if that was really what she wanted to do, but to avoid needless self-recrimination, she kept her eyes on the prize, Quatre's money. Once she was a billionairess, the law couldn't touch her anyway, she reasoned.

The kitchen looked eerily quiet. Dorothy went from the main staircase past the wooden worktable, constantly looking over her shoulder. She saw no one, heard no one, feared no one. _Even if those girls see my face, what can they do about the fact that I've seen them?_ she thought with a smile. _They came here for sanctuary, no doubt, so they can't leave, and there's nobody to complain to who wouldn't make their situation worse. I've got them!_

But first, she had to get a look at them, scope out the layout of the room, find ways in and out, count them to be sure, and size them up for potential resistance. Dorothy crept through the doorway to the pantry and scullery, and was only a few steps away from Quatre's bedroom door. Her goal was just within reach.

Unbeknownst to the bumbling baroness, someone _was_ watching, and that someone knew that the girl was not where she was supposed to be. From the farthest corner of the kitchen came a sound, a sound to let Dorothy know that she wouldn't get away with anything while the person watching her was around. From the farthest corner of the kitchen came a bold, strong 'meow.'

Dorothy spun around and gasped, not being able to identify the noise as a cat quicker than her reflexes could react to a human. She took a few steps back towards the kitchen and saw the strange fluffy gray cat that hung around the staff, sitting on the floor in front of the right-hand corner of the stove, staring her down. _What's that animal doing here!?_ Dorothy had always been suspicious of where it came from, and was a little bit jealous of Heero for finding a stray with such glossy eyes and such a luxurious coat as to rival that of her own Anna Maria. Satisfied that she wasn't _really_ in danger of being discovered, she stuck her nose up in the air, turned around, and headed back to Quatre's door.

The little gray cat was smarter than that. Shadow ran a few feet forward until she was safely under the kitchen table and meowed several times in succession, loudly and insistently. Dorothy froze and glared at the cat over her shoulder. "Hush, you!" she whispered angrily.

Again she made for the door. This time Shadow ran to the bottom of the stairs and meowed fervently up at the first floor, and to Dorothy's horror, she got a response. "Shadow, shut up!" Hilde's voice yelled from somewhere near the top of the stairs. "I just fed you an hour ago!"

Shadow and Dorothy looked at each other for several seconds, then Dorothy grinned when it seemed that Hilde wasn't going to bother traipsing all the way downstairs to check on the animal. _Ha. Your little scheme didn't work, smarty._ Yet again, Dorothy went back to Quatre's door and knelt in front of it, looking for a keyhole. She wasn't terribly practised at picking locks, but she'd seen it done in picture books, and it only seemed to involve sticking hairpins in the right places, and hairpins she had plenty of. Very carefully, she pulled a pin out of the little French twist she'd put in her hair earlier that morning and leaned against the door, preparing to wedge the short barb of metal into the keyhole, when she heard a peculiar scraping noise coming from the kitchen.

Dorothy couldn't fight her own curiosity, and had to turn around and look. Still in a crouching position, she swivelled around on her satin slippers, but couldn't see what was making the odd noise. It sounded like a heavy stone sliding inch by inch across a bigger stone, and she had to get a better look. Returning to the kitchen, she froze again, eyes wide, as she saw just how much trouble she was in.

Since Hilde wouldn't come down unless it was an emergency, Shadow had to make it an emergency. She had jumped up on the kitchen counter, underneath the window, and squeezed in behind the large ceramic flour jar that was only sitting a few inches out from the wall. While Dorothy was trying to figure out how lock picking worked, Shadow had shoved hard against the jar and managed to scoot it all the way to the counter's edge, where it sat precariously with a good two inches of its bottom circumference hanging in mid-air over the slate tile floor. One more shove would do it.

Dorothy cringed and shook her head, waving her hands in front of her as a warning. _No! Oh, no!_

"Meow," Shadow said, giving her one last chance to leave without doing damage.

"Shhh!" Dorothy hissed, flapping one arm desperately.

Shadow thought about letting her go, but she really wasn't worth it. With one last shove, she sent the flour jar crashing to the floor, creating a huge white dust cloud above the counter's edge and opening a fresh can of worms for Dorothy.

"What's going _on_ down there!?" Hilde shrieked, clomping down the stairs holding up great handfuls of her dress and apron so she wouldn't trip over them. "Oh, for the love of...Shadow! Did you do this!?"

Shadow sat serenely on the counter and licked her paw. Dorothy used the distraction to slip from the pantry hall to the stairs and run away, but just when she thought she was in the clear, she stumbled right into Heero, who was on his way down to investigate the ruckus for himself. They collided with terrible force, and Heero had to be gentlemanly and grab her arm so she wouldn't topple over backwards, but instead of thanking him, she shoved him aside and ran the rest of the way upstairs and out of sight. Heero glared and jogged downstairs.

"...got to understand sooner or later that there are kitty things in this house, and there are human things in this house, and kitties aren't supposed to touch human things! Got it!?" Hilde was bent over a pile of flour and shards of pottery with a dustpan and a little hand brush, admonishing Shadow who sat calmly on the counter where the flour jar had stood, appearing not to be listening to the speech.

"What happened?" Heero asked gruffly.

"_Your cat_ knocked this off the counter! When are you going to discipline that animal!?"

Heero scrunched up his face and looked behind him, then back at Hilde. "Are you sure she did it?"

Hilde harrumphed and gestured maniacally with the hand brush, still down on her knees. "Well, she must have! There was no one else in the kitchen!"

"Ah." She obviously hadn't seen Dorothy, and Heero thought it best not to compound her agitation with the reality that they had almost let the Baroness slip through the net.

Hilde hauled herself to her feet with a dustpan full of flour and stomped up to the counter, pointing sharply at Shadow with her free hand. "Bad cat! Bad, bad cat!" Next, she stomped over to the dustbin and dumped the lot, soon stomping back to get another panful. "Don't strain yourself helping me, Heero."

"I'll help by removing the perpetrator from your presence," Heero said, scooping up Shadow and walking away with her. She was remarkably forgiving of Hilde, to take such undeserved abuse, and after coupling that with the cat's quick thinking in catching Dorothy red-pawed, Heero was quite impressed. It was a bright spot in an otherwise bleak and troublesome day. "Good job," he whispered in her ear. Shadow purred.

Once Hilde had finished clearing away the rest of the shards and spilled flour, she looked up and noticed that Heero hadn't moved for several minutes. He was leaning his left shoulder against a piece of wall so he could face the back door, still watching and waiting. Shadow was still curled up in his arms, and he was scratching the back of her neck rhythmically, staring at the unmoving door as if in a trance. He didn't look at all well. Hilde sighed and padded up behind him. "I wish you'd stop worrying," she said softly. "He's coming back."

Heero never actually vocalized his fears about Duo to anyone, so he should have been suspicious as to why Hilde could tell exactly what he was thinking, but he was too weary even to do that. "Hn..."

"Listen to me, will ya? I know for a _fact_ that he would never, _ever_ leave you." After only a brief hesitation, she moved up very close behind him, putting her left hand up on his shoulder and her right on his arm, squeezing slightly in a comforting way. "I'm closer to him than I've been to anyone else, so if you can't see it, who else should know better than me? He's coming back, and he wouldn't want you to be miserable like this."

Heero's brow crinkled as he realized what was happening. Without moving his head, he looked down at the hand on his arm. _Hilde. Touching. Something not right here._ Aside from the words 'Hilde' and 'touching', the phrase 'saying nice things about Duo's loyalty' floated through his brain as well. He had yet to spend any reasonable length of time alone with Hilde and not be reasonably confused about her motives. Who did she truly care for? Who did she expect Heero to care for? What kind of unfathomable female mind games was she playing? Snowed in by his self-interrogation, he escaped by twisting around and dumping Shadow into Hilde's arms. "I think I'll go for a walk."

"Atta boy, take your mind off it," Hilde said, balancing the squirmy feline with both hands. Heero strode briskly out the back door and disappeared, not knowing when he himself would return, let alone Duo.

**********  
  


Treize thought of himself as more patient than most people he knew, but that was when faced with unavoidable delays, or perhaps the choice of quality over speed. However, when there was absolutely no purpose or benefit in moving slowly, he preferred to shift into the fast lane whenever possible. This was vividly on his mind when he found Relena in the glittering blue and gold drawing room and sat down next to her to have a chat.

"That's three days in a row you've skipped breakfast," the Count chided with a smile. "Don't think I don't notice when my niece is out of sorts."

Relena returned his smile bravely. "I'm sorry. I get like this when I'm upset, I always have."

"Here." Treize leaned back into the sofa, swung one leg over the other, and passed a plate to Relena with a mixed berry tea biscuit on it. "Keep your strength up, dear."

Relena's smile grew. _How thoughtful...he really does worry about me._ "Thank you." She took the plate and nibbled away at the baked treat, not realizing until then that her stomach was growling madly. "I have to admit...this is all wearing me down...more so than I expected. I desperately wanted to be strong for my brother's sake, but I'm just not. There's no sense in deluding myself."

_Sounds like you'd rather get things over with,_ Treize thought with a fiendish grin. _How fortuitous._ "If I may say so, the longer you drag out the reading of your father's will, the worse you'll feel. Every effort has been made to find your brother, and now it's time to let go and move on with your life. I believe he would have wanted that."

"Maybe," Relena sighed.

Long after she had finished eating, they sat side-by-side, not saying anything, but the wheels in Treize's head were cranking over at a thousand revolutions per second. _Come on, you silly girl. You've held me up long enough. It's time to end this. Have your father's will read now so we can get on with dispersing his fortune. Don't worry...I wouldn't necessarily leave you destitute...but for the sake of international interests, you may have to lower your standard of living somewhat. That money is earmarked for more important things than keeping you well-stocked with French perfume._

"You know, you're right," the girl said finally. "It's not helping anyone, sitting on my hands when we could be putting father's money to work for us. I'll talk to Mr. Marlowe and find out how soon he can fit us into his schedule."

Treize patted her on the shoulder and stood. "You know it makes sense." After accepting her brave smile as confirmation that the will would be taken care of as soon as possible, he left her to her thoughts, shutting the drawing room doors behind him. He smirked to himself as he walked back down the hall to his unfinished coffee in the conservatory. _Today's youth are so wonderfully impressionable._

**********  
  


Thinking about Duo and worrying about whether or not he would ever return put Heero in a lousy mood, and it was becoming dangerously close to wiping out what little job efficiency he possessed. He needed to clear his head, and the easiest way to do that on his own was to hide in Catherine's basement gymnasium and take his frustrations out on the heavy bag. The cab ride seemed to take forever, and he impatiently rushed through the eating area of the pub, avoiding eye contact with everyone and hustling downstairs to change into his workout gear and forget his predicament. 

Forgetting wasn't easy; as soon as he started flinging roundhouse kicks at the hanging sack, the anxieties began buzzing around his head like hungry mosquitos. _Why did I meet Duo? Why did he have to show me how wretched my life was? Why couldn't I have continued on in ignorance, blindly following my orders and never wanting to complain about the way I was treated? I wouldn't know what freedom was like...or good food...or friendship...or being abandoned..._ With each pause in between thoughts, he kicked the bag with greater and greater force until something in his supporting ankle went 'twang' and he tumbled down to the mat in no small amount of pain. He growled and clutched the bad ankle, berating himself for losing concentration.

He sat curled up on the mat for a long time, staring down and panting from exertion, then slowly looked up at the opposing wall. There was an old dartboard on that wall, with a single dart angrily jammed into its centre, holding up a squarish piece of beige paper, the letter Heero had received early that morning. Unfolding himself gingerly and standing slowly on his injured ankle, he walked painfully over to the dartboard, ripped the paper off, and read it over just one more time.

_"Return to me now, and I will not harm you."_

It was the worst possible time for Lord Jeffrhyss to start poking his nose in again. Day after day, Heero had been waiting for some small contact from Duo to let him know what his plans were, and for all his hoping and watchfulness, the only word he received was from his hated master, extending an invitation to rejoin the ranks.

Heero leaned his back against the wall, then slid down it into a sloppy sitting position, still staring at the letter. _Why are you pestering me now, of all times? I went for weeks without hearing from you, and I've found that I prefer it. I thought you might have finally decided to leave me alone..._ That was a foolish hope, and he knew it. Jeffrhyss had probably just been lulling him into a false sense of security, and now appeared to be impatient to see his most valuable agent returned to him.

The trouble was, without Duo, life as an agent didn't seem that bad. The chef constantly derided Heero's virtual slave status, and Heero was never quick to contradict him, but it was a life that he was familiar with, one he had already invested twelve years in. He was used to receiving detailed instructions and carrying them out, and even felt a small sense of satisfaction at completing even a basic training mission successfully. He was used to the beatings that were employed as punishment for mistakes, and gained a fierce resolve never to make the same mistake twice. He was used to eating whatever was given to him, and being tied down to his bunk at night, because Jeffrhyss had told him over and over since he was a child that without His Lordship's help, Heero would have died in the gutter, or worse. He should be grateful. If Heero went back, he was fairly sure that the pain of losing Duo would be wrenched out of him, the way most useless emotions had been eradicated as part of his basic training years before. He would forget, and everything would be as it was before. He should be grateful for that as well.

He was fairly sure that this was possible. _But then...if my emotions were eradicated...what am I doing here, sulking with an anger-induced ankle sprain and feeling sorry for myself?_

The rest of his hour-long workout session was frittered away without Heero moving from that spot on the floor, drifting from one disturbing thought to the next. At the end, he decided for himself that the past year had been a positive experience on the whole, compared to the twelve years that preceded it, and that he should be grateful for that year most of all. Mentally fatigued and physically battered, he pulled himself to his feet and hobbled uneasily upstairs to clean himself up and check over a few things with Catherine. To celebrate all that he had to be thankful for, he had suggested a plan to the enterprising barmaid, and he intended to go through with the proceedings, whether there was a guest of honour or not.

**********  
  


Later, around dinnertime, the remaining servants were beginning to worry about Heero. Without him, Hilde had to enlist Bethany's help in preparing dinner, and Doris was volunteered to dish it out at the dinner table. Relena didn't demand an explanation from anybody, for she seemed to have other things on her mind, which was just as well. No one would have known what to tell her; Heero had simply disappeared.

At that very moment, he wasn't that far away, pacing the entire length of the Euston Street train station, the one closest to the manor. He had been frequenting the station at least once a day for the past week in the hopes that Duo might spring out of a train from Wales, all smiles and hungry for a hug. This time, Heero was pacing without watching the incoming trains, all tidied up and wearing his best new suit, and paused frequently in front of the ticket area, where a giant chalkboard hoisted above the clerks' heads displayed both incoming and outgoing services.

Heero stopped and stared at the chalkboard. In less than ten minutes, there was a train to Southampton, and from there it was a short ferry ride to the Isle of Wight. He had almost five pounds in his pocket, and no bothersome luggage to haul around. He didn't need to take a single scrap with him from the manor if he wanted to leave, for he knew every one of his immediate needs would be taken care of by the organization. He would have food, shelter, and within days, perhaps a new mission. He even had the promise on paper that Jeffrhyss would do no harm to him upon his return. Certainly, he would be punished, but his useful life would be far from over, and he would be filled with a new purpose. Now the train to Southampton was leaving in five minutes.

_How easily would I forget Duo if I stepped on that train?_ he wondered. Probably about as easily as he himself would be forgotten by the ones he left behind. Relena would have to guard her own fortune from the jackals within her walls, Quatre would have to sort out his family troubles with one less pair of hands, and Otto would be heading down to the post office with a smile on his face to put a card in the window asking for new applicants for the position of head butler. They'd be disappointed for awhile, but they could manage. Now the train to Southampton would be leaving in three minutes. The next train from Wales was due in two minutes.

_How soon would Duo forget me? In a sense, we'd both be returning to the life we're most used to...he's always been more comfortable in Ireland, even when he was hundreds of miles away. That's where his heart's been all along._ Amid great puffs of steam and a thundering, clattering noise, the train from Wales pulled into the station a little bit early, on the track closest to where Heero was standing. On another track, a conductor was calling the all-aboard for the train to Wimbledon, Basingstoke, Winchester, Southampton, and the ferry to the Isle of Wight. There was still time to get on it.

_I suppose running away would be the same as giving up, and no matter where he was, Duo would never let me hear the end of it. He hates quitters._ He turned and watched the passengers file off the train from Wales at an excruciatingly slow pace. Behind him, the train headed south blew its whistle, indicating that this was Heero's last chance to reunite with Jeffrhyss.

_He'd say I have no faith..._

One by one, the train before him emptied from a long string of cars, each with two busy exits. The resulting super-thick glob of people swarmed straight past Heero, engulfing him in a sea of blank faces that pummelled him with wave after tedious wave of indifference. Near the end of the deluge came a slim, tired figure carrying a single suitcase, dressed in a pleasant, sense-appeasing brown, who searched the crowd with anxious violet eyes. In the same instant, the two loneliest people in the whole world found each other in the buzzing crowd, leapt forward, threw their arms around each other and breathed out a shared sigh that was quickly lost in the surrounding pandemonium. The suitcase fell to the floor and lay untouched.

Heero had both arms wrapped so tightly around Duo that he could hardly breathe, but to be fair, he wasn't concentrating much on breathing anyway. "I missed you _so_ much," the chef whispered with what little air he possessed. "I'm sorry I didn't write or anything, but there was a lot going on, and...it was just..." Words failed him quickly, and he simply squeezed Heero back even tighter.

A small part of Heero's brain told him that people were probably starting to stare by now, but it was immaterial. An even smaller amount of faith had paid off many times over, and it was far more important anyway. Still, he stood clutching his friend for quite a long time, long enough for Duo to scrunch both eyebrows in a worried way and wonder if something was wrong. "Uh...Heero? You alright?"

Heero took a long time to respond, and then he only uncoiled himself from Duo as slowly as he could and cradled the boy's head in both hands, with their foreheads touching and their noses a hair's breadth apart. Duo looked up at Heero, all blurry with his eyes closed, and felt sick with worry. "Oh man.....you thought I wasn't coming back. You figured you were never gonna see me again, didn't you? I can tell...you can't hide anything from me."

Heero's hands dropped to Duo's shoulders, and he leaned back a bit so he could look at him clearly. "Never mind that."

"You've got some serious trust issues, you know that?" Duo reluctantly broke contact to stoop down and pick up his suitcase. "Didn't I tell you not to worry? Huh? Didn't I tell you everything was gonna be fine?" He waited a few seconds, then latched onto Heero in a fierce sidelong hug, grinning and laughing. "Aw, forget about it! Get me out of this place! I'm starving!"

Heero smiled and returned the hug, leading Duo off the platform and out of the station as the train to Southampton chugged away down the opposite track. The ankle he had injured earlier was still a bit sore, but he made a solid effort to hide any limping, not wanting to worry his friend any further. They easily made it outside, and to Duo's pleasant surprise, the butler had a carriage waiting for them across the street, and they climbed aboard. On the way inside, Heero nodded to the driver, who acted on previous instructions and drove east, away from the station, and strangely, away from Bridlewood. Duo didn't notice, and the conversation travelled elsewhere. "How is she?" Heero asked.

Duo slouched tiredly. "Not bad...not good either, but I cheered her up lots."

"How was it coming back across the border?"

"...that was the weirdest thing," Duo said with a sense of wonder. "I told her I expected it to be rough getting back because I don't have a passport, and she just said she'd take care of it. When I got to the seaport...they didn't hassle me at all. As soon as the customs guy saw me, he waved me right through." He shrugged. "Anyway, I hope you weren't waiting too long. You haven't been camping out here every night trainspotting, have you? It kinda takes the sport out of it when they pull up right in front of you, y'know."

Heero looked as innocent as could be. "I had no idea you'd be on that train. It was a guess."

"A guess!?" Duo folded his arms and gave Heero an accusatory glare of the highest order. "Wrong answer, buddy boy. I must say, I'm shocked...nay, _appalled_ that you have no clue what day today is. I _expected_ you to know I'd be back today! I _had_ to be back today! Don't you know what day it is!?"

Heero still looked innocent. "The twelfth?"

"Yeah..._and_?"

"...and..."

Duo coughed in mock offense. "Well, I don't know _why_ I'd still be your friend after hearing that!" Heero smirked to himself as Duo explained why. "Today isn't just the twelfth, I'll have you know...a year ago today is the day we first met. I might not have been able to read calendars back then, but I always knew what day it was."

Heero arched his eyebrows. "Really, now..."

"Yeah, and as for people who forget major milestones in their lives, let me just say..." For the first time since their journey began, Duo noticed the direction in which they were riding. "Uh...aren't we going the wrong way?"

"Don't know. Are we?" Heero replied, looking sly and roguish. Duo appeared highly perplexed and leaned over to the window, studying the buildings and side streets as they flew by. Just when he thought he recognized the neighbourhood and was about to guess where they were going, they arrived. The carriage stopped in front of the Muddy Nag, and Heero poked Duo right out the door and onto the pavement, just barely holding back a sage smile.

"What are we doing here?" Duo asked. "I've gotta get back to my kitchen!"

"Inside," Heero said, poking him in the shoulder again.

"Ow! Okay, okay!" Duo acquiesced, shoved his way through the door of the pub...and was greeted by a spectacular sight. The interior of the pub had been transformed from its old scheme of green and brown, complete with ugly patterned wallpaper, a scuffed floor, and dated wall decorations, to a shimmering fantasy in red. Pristine new red tablecloths covered every horizontal surface, sparkling red Christmas decorations hung down the walls and from the ceiling, and dozens of red candles were lit all around the room. The dining room was just about full, with a varied and boisterous crowd of customers who were all smiling and chatting to each other over the exact same dish. In front of each customer was a fresh slice of cherry pie.

"There's the man of the hour!" a girl's voice called out. Within seconds, Catherine squirted out from between two very full tables, wearing a tremendously perky crinoline dress in a brilliant red that outshone the rest of the room all by itself. "Right this way, sirs," she cooed, leading a very confused Duo away, who kept looking over his shoulder questioningly at Heero all the way to their reserved spot. Nestled to one side of the room, far from Heero's usual tiny table near the door to the kitchen, was a cozy horseshoe-shaped booth that had been set aside for someone, with candles and water glasses, red cloth napkins and fancy gold-rimmed tableware, nicer than what the rest of the customers were eating off of. At Catherine's prompting, the boys sat down.

"Is someone gonna let me in on the big secret, or what?" Duo complained mirthfully, letting a hint of a smile escape his control.

"My pleasure," Catherine said, putting on her most dramatic airs. "A year ago today, I had a major breakthrough with my cooking...a cherry pie of such artistry, such succulence, such outstanding culinary pulchritude that I had to declare, out of all the creations that have come out of my kitchen, it was truly the most perfect." She folded her hands and looked down at Duo in joking accusation. "It was a little _too_ perfect."

"Eheheh," Duo coughed, tugging at his collar.

"That day, my most exceptional work was, shall we say..._misappropriated_ by some person or persons who shall remain nameless..." Duo and Heero each smirked and raised an eyebrow at each other in perfect unison. "...and I have to admit, I was really furious at that person...but then I got to know him a little better. I learned that when you bake with love, you bake a whole lot better, and thanks to a few extra recipes of his, and a little inspiration, I've turned into a better cook and a better hostess. This place has never been more successful in all the years I've worked here, and I believe it's because I met this nameless pie bandit and found out what made him tick. To that end, June the Twelfth will now and forever be Cherry Pie Day at the Muddy Nag, in honour of the pie thief that put me on the road to success."

Duo was caught between a laugh and a hug, wide-eyed and smiling. "I...I don't know what to say...this is just plain awesome, Cathy! Thanks!"

"You're welcome, you sticky-fingered little so-and-so," Catherine said, leaning down to tug playfully on Duo's ear. "You should be thanking Heero, though. The whole thing was his idea. All I did was import six crates of cherries and do all the cooking." The barmaid didn't notice Duo's eyes shift quickly over to Heero, suddenly glowing with joy, relief, and love. "Now, what can I get you boys?"

Unleashing his best pearly grin, Duo laughed, leaned back, and humoured the girl. "Well, I dunno...what are the specials this evening?"

Catherine grinned back, snatched a pencil from behind her ear, and pointed at the menu board with it. The entire regular menu had been erased from the black slate surface, replaced with the words 'The best cherry pie you've ever eaten, 5p. a slice.' "Of course, for privileged customers and special guests, dinner's always on the house." She winked and walked away, tucking the pencil back behind her ear as she went to rustle up two more pieces of pie.

Duo stared sweetly across the table at Heero, who was neatly framed between two lit candles and taking a sip from his goblet of water. "You remembered," he said quietly and with loving awe.

Heero put the goblet down and shrugged slightly with the same arm. "I don't have the kind of money anymore that I'd _like_ to spend on you, so I have to find more cost-effective ways of celebrating occasions like this."

"Heero...you don't have to spend money on me to make me feel lucky to have you," Duo said. "Just knowing you didn't really forget is enough."

"I couldn't forget," Heero assured him, thinking back for the hundredth time on the day he tangled with the Peckham Pie Thief. "When a long-haired stick insect with a pie throws you into a brick wall, you don't forget that."

Duo laughed. "Hey, you weren't very nice to me either! You pulled my hair!"

"You invaded my room!"

"You insulted my cooking!"

"You threw my life into chaos!"

Duo beamed. "Well, yeah, I did that, all right. I had to, your life was just crying out for some chaos."

Catherine returned from the kitchen with two very hefty slices of cherry pie and set them down in front of the boys. Then, before Duo could dig in to the tantalizing treat, she made him stand up and presented him to the entire clientele as the boy responsible for the Muddy Nag's recent success, and led them in three cheers which turned Duo's face a similar shade of red to the pie.

Heero sat quietly and soaked up all the positive energy in the room, especially the brilliant sunbeams coming from Duo as he smiled. _This is what life should be like,_ he decided silently, and while Duo shyly waved off the cheers and adulations of the customers, Heero took the beige, squarish letter from Lord Jeffrhyss out of his pocket and read it over again. Promising not to harm Heero physically didn't make it a better deal than staying right where he was, with Duo. Ready with a reply, he took out his standard agent-issue retractable pen and wrote out a single line underneath Jeffrhyss' old, scrawly handwriting:

_"You don't own me."_

Heero had the letter and the pen tucked safely away by the time the cheers had finished, and the diners were turning back to their own affairs as well, diving into their slices of pie while a cluster of well-fed gents stood around the piano and sang songs to serenade the rest of the room. When the chef was finally allowed to sit back down, he was clearly overflowing with happiness. "I can't believe you arranged all this for me! And I didn't bring you a present from Ireland or anything!"

"Getting you back in one piece was my present," Heero said. Sitting forward a little, he held up his goblet between the two lit candles. "Happy anniversary."

Duo repeated the action, clinking their glasses together. "You too." Though it was just water, something that would leave the taste of the pie unadulterated, it seemed sweeter than ambrosia when shared at such a precious time. Duo put the glass down slowly and drooled at the pie. "This looks and smells _so_ fantastic...but all I can think about it gobbling it down so we can go somewhere where I can hug you properly without people staring at us." He looked at the pie, then looked at Heero, who was watching him watching, and hadn't begun to eat yet. "Aw, hell with it."

With another gleaming smile, Duo scooted all the way around the horseshoe-shaped booth and trapped Heero in a giant bear hug. Heero wrestled his arms free after awhile and clutched Duo even harder in return, drenching his senses in all the lovely things he thought he might never experience again...Duo's warmth, the pressure exerted by his sinewy limbs, the scent of his hair, his kindness, his humour, and above all, his smiling face made up of a sunny palette of rosy beige and deepest violet.

Just then, perhaps induced by the sudden erasure of fear combined with the intoxication of being squeezed so tight, Heero had a craving...an electric, unfathomable craving to do something to Duo, right in front of everyone, starting with his lips and moving on in unknown directions afterwards. If he shut his eyes and inhaled Duo's scent deeply, the craving grew stronger, and the presence of the pub full of customers grew fainter. It was only Duo's comment about being stared at that registered in his subconscious and prevented him from acting, but if the craving continued, Heero reasoned, he'd have to act on it eventually, and he somewhat liked the thought of that. For now, however, the two of them were stuck in a hug they had no desire to escape, and their slices of cherry pie laid untouched for quite a long time.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


_Next, in Episode Fifty-One: Otto acts on a suspicion and invades the cellar unexpectedly, Duo visits Sally in the hopes of finding a cure for Helen, and Heero devises a way to test Duo's trust and his own alien impulses safely._

I think we've just witnessed the opening of a very important floodgate. =^_~= There's nothing more I need to say about this, so I'll see you next time, on June 21st! Ja ne!


	51. Riddles, Rites and Revelations

**A.N.** Whoo! FFN's back! ...again! Well, better late than never, but here's the latest installment. Just a reminder to new readers, Bridlewood is being simultaneously released on my website for just such emergencies. :P

**Warnings:** Something is going to happen later in this episode that I absolutely DO NOT want ANY of you trying! =o_o= I accept no legal liability if you try this and get hurt doing it. Bad, bad, bad. (But for the purposes of fanfiction, good, good, good. =^_~= )

**Disclaimer:** My current defence against any corporate lawyers who might decide to beat down my door and present a "cease and desist" order from BanDai is that I've been working on this for a WHOLE YEAR now, and if they even **tried** to shut me down, they'd have hordes of angry fans swarming all over them and plucking out each and every one of their body hairs, one by one by one. Right guys? *looks expectantly at her readers* ... *crickets chirp* ... =o_o;= *gulp* Uh...right? =D

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Fifty-One: Riddles, Rites, and Revelations

_"A straight line may be the shortest distance between two points, but it is by no means the most interesting." ~The Doctor, "Doctor Who" _

June 21st, 1902

Right after breakfast was served, there was an uninvited mouse creeping around in the study, rustling through a pile of papers on the massive dark wooden bureau. He was trying hard not to be heard by anyone who would think suspiciously of him, but inevitably, he was noticed. After hearing the odd shuffling noise from the hall, Heero slipped through the narrowly-opened door and crept up behind Duo with a curious smirk tugging at his mouth. Duo didn't notice the butler's presence at all until he leaned farther and farther over Duo's shoulder, looking down at the mass of disorganized papers. Finally, a lock of Heero's hair tickled Duo's neck, and he jumped up with a start, clutching some documents to him and gasping in surprise.

"For gosh sakes, don't sneak up on me like that!" he howled.

"Looking for something?" Heero asked, nonchalantly changing the subject.

"Yeah, I need a photo of Relena's brother. I've been all over the house looking and I don't know where they keep the family albums. There's only a few big photos hanging up, and I need something smaller," the chef explained, returning to his work.

Heero leaned back and weighed Duo's words carefully. "Why would you need that?"

Distracted, it took Duo a moment to look up. "Huh? ...oh, it's not for me, it's for Helen. She asked for a photo of him in her letter yesterday, see?" He fished a letter in delicate handwriting out of his pocket and held it up for Heero's perusal.

Heero took the letter and skimmed it lightly. "Yes, I do see. And why would _she_ need that, or even need to know about it?"

Slowly, Duo realized he'd been caught badly off-guard, and straightened up with a smirk in defence against Heero's accusatory glare. "All right, I told her a few things...about the family...and the mission...and...well, let's just say I spilled my guts about everything, okay? Shoot me if you must, but just understand that I've hardly got anybody to talk to, and she wanted to know what I've been doing with myself, so we got talking about Bridlewood, and the Peacecrafts in general, and going to Buffalo last year, and Lord Jeffrhyss, and a few bits and pieces about Treize and the money scandal, and..." Heero sighed. "Well, what am I _supposed_ to do with all this juicy gossip jostling around in my head with no means of escape!? It's not like she's gonna blab to the press about it, she promised me she wouldn't tell a soul!"

That changed things somewhat. Duo learned his valuable traits of honesty and truth-telling from Helen, so it was reasonable to assume that she was equally trustworthy, and that if she promised not to do a thing, it would not be done. "Fine, but don't tell anyone else."

Duo crossed his heart quickly with his right hand. "You got it, chief." He gratefully took his letter back, then went about shoving the pile of fruitless papers back into the bureau drawers. "So, d'you know where I can get a picture of this Milliardo guy? One the family isn't gonna miss?"

Heero went quiet, and the beginnings of a tricky little smile appeared and disappeared in a flash. _This could be the perfect time to play my game, as long as I get there first..._ "Ask someone closer to the family, someone who was in charge of things while the brother was still here."

Duo nodded. "I didn't want to disturb anybody, but I guess I'll have to. I'll find somebody after lunch...I've got a couple of errands to run this morning."

"Do you have anything planned for this afternoon?" Heero asked abruptly.

"Uh...no, not really. Why?"

The tricky smile tried to return, and no matter how hard Heero tried to shove it back down, traces of it broke through his stoic facade. "I have a riddle for you."

Duo's eyes brightened with mousey curiosity. "Really? What?"

Heero shook his head once and lowered his voice. "Not now. Not here. Later." He left the study quickly after that, leaving Duo to stew and wonder at what he meant, and especially at where the tricky smile came from. He thought about it for a long time, and kept thinking about it on his way to run the errands he spoke of. The boy was up to something.

**********  
  


The year's events had made Wufei think long and hard about the merits of his vocation, but as always, he kept his thoughts to himself. He used to think of Lord Jeffrhyss and his old master not just as two of The Five, but rather as springboards that could catapult him closer and closer to Treize, once he learned of their secret dealings. In that respect, he knew far more about the mysterious men than Heero did, but now, after seeing first-hand what sort of people these men really were, he envied the butler's ignorance. For too long, he had allowed himself to be blinded by his own anger and thirst for vengeance, and now the picture was becoming horribly clear.

All this could have been happily ignored for a little while longer, as he lounged around in Arthur's cottage, sharing stories and wisdom with the venerable old fellow, if not for the hand-delivered note that arrived by way of carrier ninja that morning. Wufei was innocently wandering around outside, near the six-foot brick wall at the back of the property, when a figure in black that was easily identifiable to him as one of Jeffrhyss' couriers sprang over the wall, handed an envelope to him, and sprang back the way he came in less than ten seconds.

Wufei wrinkled his nose at the ostentatious display. _What's wrong with using the postal service like normal people all of a sudden?_ The answer came when he opened the envelope and read the contents with a frown. He had been recalled to the Isle of Wight, and was explicitly instructed not to tell Heero where he was going, or that he was leaving at all. Sending the notice through the post would have alerted the senior agent that something was amiss.

As soon as the reality of the message sank in, he felt rather depressed about it. He was rather enjoying spending some stress-free time not thinking about revenge or how to manipulate who to get what. Still, Wufei was painfully aware of what happened to agents who disobeyed orders, so he had no option but to accept his chosen lot, pack his things, and slip away quietly. In the next few minutes, he did so, gathering up his pack of weapons and mementos, and vaulting easily over the brick wall . He left no belongings, no trace, no clue as to where he might have gone, but knew that once he was missed, Heero would probably have it all figured out in a heartbeat.

**********  
  


"Run that by me again, just to make sure I heard you right," Sally said, squinting and leaning back against the birch credenza in her study. "You want me to find a cure for tuberculosis, after generations of doctors, healers, shamans, old wives and hucksters selling snake oil have already failed?"

Duo held his head still and looked to either side from where he was sitting in the white satin channel back chair in front of her desk. "Uh...yeah. Monday would be good."

Sally sighed and folded her arms. "Duo, nobody can develop a magic bullet overnight, not for something like that. Tuberculosis is a serious disease that we've barely begun to understand. Modern medicine just isn't equipped for--"

"Forget modern medicine!" Duo shouted. "You've got _ancient_ medicine! Stuff that's been around for thousands of years! What can modern medicine do that's better than what mothers have been giving their children since Biblical times!?"

"Herbal medications aren't something I can just sell to you in bulk so you can pop 'em in the mailbox. I'd have to be there _with_ the patient, constantly fine-tuning the dosages until I find the right combination, and even then, there are no guarantees. Besides, I have a full load of bronchitis patients here in London, and I can't neglect them all to look after one woman in Ireland. I'm sorry."

Duo chewed his lower lip and looked down, thinking. "If you wrote down what each herb does, couldn't Helen figure out the dosages herself? She'd just cut back on one thing, or double up on another, right?"

Sally was shaking her head before he had even finished speaking. "There are _hundreds_ of roots, herbs and minerals I could administer, in _countless_ combinations. Unless she's a trained herbalist, I couldn't endorse something that reckless." She hated to disappoint the boy, and hated the despondent look on his face even more. "Look, maybe if you can bring her here..."

"No way," Duo sighed. "She's too sick to travel. You can tell me it's hopeless all you want, but I'm not buying it. This is the woman who saved me from life on the streets, even if it was just for a few years, and I'm not gonna sit on my hands while she coughs herself to death."

Sally crumpled under the tidal wave of guilt and slumped her way over to the built-in wooden armoire with the glass panel doors, right next to her desk. "Now, I don't like people putting the word 'hopeless' in my mouth..."

Duo smiled.

"...I don't know...maybe..." Mumbling, she started pulling vials and jars out and putting them down on the desk. "We know it's bacterial, so that'd narrow it down...we can alter acidity...add enzymes...vitamin D..." Among other things, she removed goldenseal, bee propolis, echinacea and aloe vera juice from the cabinet, but the one jar she was looking for let her down. She picked up an opaque canister labelled 'colloidal silver' and shook it, and just as she thought, it was empty. Putting the canister back, she sat down behind her desk and started writing out a shopping list. "Alright...maybe, _maybe_...if you can tell me absolutely everything that you know about her total health, her medical history, ancestors, environment, and symptoms, there's a vague possibility I could give you something to send to her through the mail, but I'm not promising anything."

"All I want is a chance," Duo insisted, with renewed enthusiasm. "If there's any way you can scrape something together by Monday, that'd be great, because I got a letter from her yesterday, and I wanna answer it as soon as I can."

After listening to the lengthy conversation full of medical gibber-jabber, Noin came indoors from the sundeck once she heard something she could actually form an opinion on. "You know...just hearing from you is probably going to make her feel ten times better than plain old medicine ever could," she said solemnly, as she wandered over to Sally's desk and perched on it elegantly. "You'd be surprised how much a few words of loving concern can help a person."

Duo nodded slowly, remembering that Noin was still suffering from the loss of a loved one, and a letter from Captain Peacecraft would have done her a world of good. "Yeah, I know. She really missed me...and that Jimmy Ferguson she's got working for her told me she's perked right up since she saw me in the newspaper over Christmas. She cared so much that she stopped cutting her hair years ago when I left, so she'd remember me for as long as..." Before he could say 'as long as she lived,' he swallowed and turned back to Sally. "Well...that doesn't matter, 'cause I just _know_ that whatever you cook up is _bound_ to work wonders. I mean, look at how you fixed Heero during his little psychotic episode! You're a miracle worker!"

Sally and Noin looked at each other with one of those knowing, smirky, female intuition-type looks, then looked back down at Duo. Duo looked back and forth between them timidly. "What?" This time they looked away from each other, one up, the other down. "Ladies, it is _painfully_ obvious that you know something...now, can we do some dishing here, or do I have to tickle it out of you?"

Seriously in need of a good gossip, Sally got up and circled around to the front of her desk, leaning back on it as she did the credenza. "I really might not be the miracle worker you think I am," she offered.

One of Duo's eyebrows flew up, but because of his bangs, they couldn't tell which. "Go on..."

"See this?" Sally asked, reaching behind her and taking a small wooden carousel off the desk. It was something akin to a rotating spice rack, with many small glass jars positioned in a circle with a wooden collar that sat on the shoulders of the bottles to keep them from flying off. She gave it a gentle spin, displaying all sorts of different materials that had been sorted out into colour and texture groups. "Remember those herbal mixtures Heero was hooked on? This is what they look like when they're sorted out into their constituents. Both mixtures were essentially the same except for a couple of minor changes, so for simplicity's sake, I'm calling it one mixture for now."

Duo blinked. "...uh-huh..."

"It had a strong effect on Heero," Sally suggested.

"Right," Duo replied.

"It was addictive."

"Right."

"It altered his consciousness."

"Right."

"It induced a state of hypnosis through which irresistible instructions could be administered."

"Right."

"And it made him short-tempered and miserable, disrupted his sleep patterns, messed with his appetite, and left him a tired, churlish wreck who could barely crawl out of bed every morning."

Duo shrugged helplessly. "Right!"

Sally leaned forward, eyes smiling. "_Wrong._"

Duo fidgeted backwards and made a very Heero-like confused face. "Hn?"

"I've been over and over this mixture with a fine tooth comb, separating and identifying every single speck of material it was made of, and there is _nothing_ in here that could have caused that last bit," Sally declared, giving the carousel another twirl. "Those sound more to me like symptoms of depression, and if it didn't come from inside these bottles, it must have come from somewhere else in his life."

"What're you tryin' to tell me, that he's...depressed?" Duo said in a low, unbelieving voice.

"Not is, _was_," Sally said. "Think about what your friends told you about the way he acted while he was in the country and you were stuck here. Wasn't there talk of him being cranky and out-of-sorts?"

"Well...I dunno, I guess so...but we all have bad days, right?"

"One long bad day that stretches over several weeks?" Noin interjected. "That little dark-haired housemaid, Hilde...she told me he was in a never-ending bad mood from the very day he got out there, and that he started drinking to dull his senses when he couldn't even stand being around himself."

Duo stared at Noin doubtfully. "Heck, even I have a nip of cooking sherry once in a while, it's what rebellious kids like us are _supposed_ to do!"

"A nip is one thing," Sally pointed out, "but Quatre found him totally sloshed one morning, and that's very typical of a depressed person. They find something that warps their brain and then overindulge in it to the extreme, be it liquor, food, drugs..."

"...food," Duo mumbled with a shocked look. "Geez...I just remembered something. They told me Heero tried to polish off a whole cake by himself, but I thought they were joking."

Sally and Noin both leaned forward. "What kind of cake?" Noin asked. "Think hard, it could be important!"

"Uh...triple-chocolate something-or-other," Duo babbled.

The women looked at each other with magnified concern. "Worse than we thought," Sally said.

"Much worse," Noin said.

"Worse than what!?" Duo howled. "What are you two even _talking_ about!?"

They both looked sympathetically at him as he struggled to comprehend forces of emotional health and brain chemistry with which he had no first-hand experience, for he was only a man. "This is a problem we've both dealt with at different points in our lives," Noin began, with Sally nodding in the background, "and we both feel very safe in telling you that all these things that suddenly went wrong in Heero's head were all caused by one thing."

Duo leaned forward. "Which was?"

Sally smiled. "He was missing something...something he needed badly, and cared for very much."

It took awhile to sink in, but when Duo finally got the message, his eyes widened, and he squeaked in his most mousey voice, ".....me?"

The women nodded.

"Whoa." Duo sat back, stunned, but with a trace of a grin.

Noin looked down at her left hand and picked at a seam on her dark teal dress. "When I heard that Milliardo was missing, I was in rough shape for a long time. It was a form of grieving, even though I still don't know for certain if he's dead or alive, but when I got past the grief and into the self-pity stage, I headed straight for the fudge bon-bons," she said, making a swooping motion with her right hand.

"And, um...I won't go into details, but I've been known to hit the chocolate truffles pretty hard in times of stress," Sally admitted guiltily.

"The worse you feel, the higher the cocoa content you need," Noin said. "A triple-chocolate cake...that's pretty serious business."

Duo felt an additional smidgen of guilt at having been away so long in Ireland. "Y'know...he's been acting kinda strange ever since I got back from my trip. I sure hope I didn't permanently damage him by not writing or calling or anything...and I _really_ hope there's some chocolate macaroons left by the time I get home!"

Sally lowered her eyelids reverently and tilted her head towards the door. "Better hurry back, then." Duo took her very seriously, thanked them both, and left that very instant. As soon as he was out of earshot, Sally and Noin couldn't stop themselves from breaking down into a torrent of giggles. It was all too cute.

**********  
  


Having been previously thwarted by a mere kitty cat during her attempt to sneak inside Quatre's bedroom, Dorothy's brain had been working feverishly ever since, trying to think of another way to achieve her goal. She spent even longer amounts of time trying to decide exactly what her goal was, ending with the decision that she would simply experiment with different ways of causing the uninvited houseguests enough distress to force them out into the open. It was with this in mind that she went to Otto with a severe complaint.

Otto was rarely in a mood to put up with Miss Catalonia's incessant whining. Either the room was too hot or the food was too cold or the day was too dull for her exquisite tastes. There was always something wrong. Still, when she came to him insisting that she had seen a snake slither into the kitchen from under Quatre's bedroom door, he had to take her seriously for health and safety reasons. Unsure of whether there would be anyone inside in the middle of the day, he went straight downstairs with the intention of knocking on the door. Fortuitously for them, Trowa and Quatre were both just inside the back kitchen door having a cool drink of water, and raced over in a panic to block Otto's path.

"Where are you going?" Trowa asked innocently.

"The Baroness _claims_ that she saw a snake coming from the direction of your room," Otto said. "I'm going to have a look for myself."

The big bear of a man started forward again, but Quatre propped him up boldly with both hands. "You can't go in there!"

Otto glared. "...why not?"

"Uh...it's just...it's a terrible mess in there, and it'll be halfway to impossible to find the snake, if there is one."

"Yeah, and didn't she say it was slithering _away_ from our room?" Trowa added. "If it was leaving, it probably didn't like it much. If I was a snake, I'd much prefer to be outdoors where I belong."

"That's right!" Quatre said, nodding quickly. "It's probably outside. Why don't you have a look around the gardens for it?"

"Because where there's one, there might be more," Otto said testily. "If it turns out there's a whole nest of them in there, we'll have to have the exterminators in." Again, Otto made for the door, but the two boys ran ahead of him and slammed into it, knowing it was still locked, just to make a big noise inside. "Now what!?"

"Why don't you give us a few minutes to clean up first?" Quatre suggested with a smile. "It'll cut down on how many places the snake might be, and you'll get back to your regular work a lot faster!"

"Or we could help you!" Trowa chimed in desperately.

"Out of the way!" Otto grumbled impatiently, and he pushed the boys aside. Upon trying the doorhandle and finding it locked, he pulled out his master key. Trowa and Quatre looked at each other with intense worry, but it was too late. The door was shoved open, and Otto barrelled inside. He was immediately aghast.

The room was a disaster. Most of the furniture had been clustered into two different corners, leaving most of the floor open, if only it _was_ open. Straw mats littered the concrete foundation, shoes were strewn everywhere, dirty dishes and half-empty containers of food covered every horizontal surface that would accommodate them, and the airspace was criss-crossed with ropes from which hung dozens of brightly-coloured bits of fabric, drying after laundry day. The other freakishly obvious change to the room was that the boys had pushed their beds together in the south-east corner, making a suspicious king-size out of two twins. The back of Otto's neck grew uncomfortably hot looking at it all.

"_What_.....is _this_??"

Quatre swallowed and stepped in front of Otto, still displaying a pasted-on smile. "See? Told you it was messy..." While Otto let his eyes roam all around the room and blathered incomprehensible syllables of morbid disgust, the gardener took up a position on the west side of the room, near the bookcase, while Trowa sat on one of the beds defensively.

Otto couldn't stop looking at the drying washing hanging up all around the room. If he didn't know better, and he hoped to God above that he did, he would have sworn that they were very feminine fabrics. "You...haven't been taking in laundry from other houses on the block...have you?" he asked shakily, pointing to the flowered drapery with a limp hand.

"Uh..." They had dug a nice, deep hole for themselves, apparently. Out of desperation, Quatre let his imagination run wild. "They're mine!"

Otto's eyes bulged, and he backed away from the boy a step. "_Yours_!?"

"Yes...see..." Still thinking, Quatre snatched one of the flowery rectangles of fabric off the nearest suspended rope and fluffed it around in his twitchy hands. "The thing of it is.....Trowa and I just joined an amateur dramatic society, doing community theatre, and...if we want to be in this season's production of 'Julius Caesar,' we have to know how to tie our own togas, so...um...so I bought some fabric scraps to practice with." He grinned and looked brightly at Trowa for confirmation.

Trowa jumped up off the bed and stood next to Quatre, fidgeting about nervously as he grabbed another flat piece of fabric off the ropes, this one a pale yellow with pastel green leaves in contrast to Quatre's which was a bright pink silk with purple flowers. Following up on Quatre's story, they both hastily wrapped the fabric around themselves, draping them sloppily like oversized tablecloths on miniature dressmaker's dummies. In less than a minute, each was wearing a badly-tied toga, and they presented their garish selves to Otto with big phony grins.

Otto looked unconvinced. "Community theatre."

"Oh, absolutely!" Quatre sang. Looking hurriedly over the bookcase, he spotted his 'Treasury of Shakespeare' hardcover, grabbed it, and flung it at Trowa. The book hit him hard in the breadbasket, but he quickly flipped it open and searched frantically while Quatre struck a very senatorial pose and recited from memory with gusto and unparalleled dramatic flair. "'Now, in the names of all the gods at once, upon what meat does this our Caesar feed, that he is grown so great? Age, thou art shamed! Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods!'"

Quatre looked expectantly at Trowa, who had to stop at whatever page he had reached by that point. He sputtered, cleared his throat, and then read from it in a dull, flat voice, following along underneath the words with one finger. "'Come, wait upon him. Lead him to my bower. The moon methinks looks with a watery eye. And when she weeps, weeps every little flower. Lamenting some enforced...uh.....chastity. Tie up my love's tongue, bring him silently.'" Mysteriously, Trowa's ears turned a vibrant red. He stopped reading, looked up through his spiky bangs, and weakly raised a hand in a tiny salute. "H-hail Caesar."

Right about there, Quatre figured out that Trowa had mistakenly flipped open the book to 'A Midsummer Nights Dream,' but smiled and repeated the salute with a grin. "Hail Caesar."

Otto looked at them both. He didn't move for a moment or two, then slowly backed away from the pair as if quietly fleeing from some indescribable terror. Afraid of knowing any more than he thought he knew, he backed right out the door and closed it without uttering another sound.

The boys counted to ten in their heads to make sure he was really gone, then Quatre took two giant steps towards the door and leaned against it, and everyone in the room sighed as one. "Is everyone alright?" he whispered.

Six feminine groans of nervous exasperation floated out from under the beds, and Hessa was the first to crawl out from the last-second hiding place. Trowa and Quatre knelt down to help them, still covered in the tacky togas, and one by one, the girls clambered out into the open, brushing dust bunnies out of their hair and commenting on what a close call that was.

Nashida and Asalah laughed at Trowa in unison as he struggled out of the green and yellow dress, and Quatre cracked a bit of a smile too, but once he had gotten rid of his own poofy garment, he counted his sisters and realized that there was one missing. He knelt back down by the foot of the beds and lifted up the blanket, which was dangling just low enough to graze the floor and provide an ideal curtain. "Yasmeen?"

"...nnnrrgh..." The eldest sister crawled only partway out from under the bed and flopped back down on the floor with a groan, resting her tousled brunette head on her folded arms. "This has got to stop," she muttered.

Quatre helped her up and watched sadly as she worked a nasty crick out of her neck. "I wish I knew what else to do," he said.

"I can't believe I expected this to work," Yasmeen grunted. "We're cooped up like cattle, we haven't seen the sun for _weeks_...look at us! We're almost as pale as _you_! This wretched English weather of yours isn't ideal, but it's better than what we've got!" The other girls looked dreary and solemn as their sibling railed on and paced off her agitated energy. "Jumping at the slightest noise! Diving under the bed whenever anyone comes near! We came here to preserve our lives, but I'm sure none of us thought we'd stop living because of it!"

When she paused in her pacing, she noticed that everyone was looking at her, and the most intense glares came from her sisters, who must have been shocked at her lack of grace. She looked sympathetically at Quatre, then crossed the room and clutched both his hands. "I'm sorry...I don't mean to sound ungrateful. We are all _very_ much in your debt for your kindness...but it's just not working."

Quatre looked down and nodded. "I know."

Momentarily overcome, Yasmeen hugged her brother tightly, then stepped back and collected herself with a smile. "I've been looking after these five tag-alongs for nearly a year now. It should be my responsibility to find them another place to stay until it's safe to go home. No arguments, I've made my decision. Wherever we go, I promise you we won't be far if you need us."

Sensible though it was, the very idea was bitter and harsh to Quatre's ears. Now that he knew this small portion of his family could be trusted, he didn't want to see any of them go, but even he had to admit that hiding them was a terrible strain, and they might have been better off somewhere else. "Whatever you think best," he managed after a long, arduous think.

Yasmeen offered him a comforting smile. "It'll be alright. You'll see."

**********  
  


His errands completed, and his lunch dishes washed and put away, Duo followed Otto up the main staircase, staying close on his heels and trying to explain his position. "I wouldn't normally ask for something like this, but I've got this friend who really wants to see his face, and I wouldn't have a clue where to look for family photos, 'cause I don't spend much time outside the kitchen, right?"

"Mm," Otto grunted tiredly, pulling himself up the staircase by great handfuls of polished banister.

"I just want a little one, not the big ones hanging in the great hall," Duo went on. "Are you sure Relena wouldn't mind?"

"I suppose not," the house steward sighed. He led Duo all the way up to the attic, which Duo realized to his shock that he hadn't thought to search. Having a newer, nicer bedroom on the second floor meant that he practically forgot the attic existed, but it all came back to him as they shuffled into one of the dank storage rooms. "These two trunks here are full of family mementos," Otto said, pointing to his left after lighting a candle. "They're unsorted, so you'll have to find whatever you need by yourself. I have other things to attend to." He swept back out of the storeroom without another word, and almost forgot to leave the candle behind as he did so.

Duo shrugged. "You're _too_ kind." Picking one of the trunks on the floor at random, he unlatched the lid and swung it back, revealing a mess of papers, clothing, trinkets, baubles, and some sepiatone photographs which looked very promising. Several were of an auburn-haired woman with a stately presence, whom Duo guessed must have been Relena's mother. There were many pictures of Relena and Milliardo posing together as children, in their stiff white-collared clothes and patent leather shoes, looking just as sweet as could be, but what Helen really wanted was the most recent image of the young man that Duo could find. Eventually, he came across a weathered envelope on which was printed 'Milliardo in uniform' in thin black ink. _Oooh. Lemmie guess._

Inside were roughly a dozen different photos of the gentleman in question, all taken in the back yard of the manor just before he shipped out to join the war. He was wearing a crisp junior officer's uniform of the British Army, and was seen in several scenes shaking hands with important-looking people, as well as some of the neighbours who had come to wish him luck. In one pose, he was standing with his right side to the camera while speaking to another soldier, and Duo was shocked to see that he had long blond hair, almost to his waist. _Whoa...I'd've thought the army would've made him chop all that off,_ he thought with a smirk. _And I thought I was the only one. Huh._

Duo removed that photo from the envelope, as well as a close-up showing off what a strikingly handsome boy he was. _He doesn't look much older than me in this picture...and he ended up halfway around the world fighting some dumb war. I really didn't have it that bad when you think about it._ After making his selection, Duo was just about to close up the envelope and put it back when something caught his eye at the bottom of the stack of pictures, a much newer piece of clean white paper that couldn't possibly have been sitting in the trunk all that time. Duo took it out and looked at it. It read, 'Issho ni kite kudasai,' and there was a hand-drawn map leading away from Regents Park. Underneath the map was another phrase, 'Kono hana wa murasaki desu ka?'

Duo looked to either side of him, highly suspicious. _Okaaay...that shouldn't be there._ Then, he remembered his early-morning conversation in the study. _Heero said he had a riddle for me! This must be it! But that means he must have known where these photos were and that I'd be...dang. He's good._ Heero always used some form of anglicized Japanese as his primary teaching tool, and it seemed that in the first phrase, he was asking Duo to follow him.

He didn't know how long it would take to unravel the riddle, but it definitely required him to leave the house. Duo pocketed the photos and the note, closed the trunk, blew out the candle, and raced around each floor of the house looking for Heero. He didn't seem to be there, and so Duo went straight down to the kitchen next, to tell Hilde that she'd probably be on her own for dinner. After exchanging his white uniform for his brown tweed suit, he was off, following the precise map to its destination, Wood Lane Station.

_Is he putting me on a train? Nah, he knows I'd rather be home before dark._ Walking up to the station and dodging the usual daily traffic of businessmen and other assorted travellers, Duo studied the second phrase on the note, mouthing out the words to himself and trying to piece together its English meaning. _Hana...flowers? Murasaki.....that's a colour, but I can't remember which one..._ As he looked up at the station house and its well-tended summertime surroundings, the answer came to him. On the sidewalk leading up to the main doors of the imposing brick building was a long planter filled with potting soil; it was brimming with dazzling orange and yellow pansies from one end to the other, except for one small spot towards the right-hand side.

Moving in for a closer look, Duo spotted a tiny cluster of violets that had been newly transplanted into the sea of gold. _...hana wa murasaki...purple flowers!_ He dug right into the soil around the violets with both hands and nearly leapt up with glee when he felt something buried just underneath the surface. He pulled out another piece of white paper, rolled up and tied with a bit of purple string. _Aw, cool!! It's like a treasure hunt!_

He quickly unrolled the paper, which was wrapped around a little pencil, sharpened to a point, and had written on it the names of five other train stations in London. His instructions continued in English, and he was told to cross off the station he would most like to visit, and the one he would least like to visit. _Alright...let's see how well he really knows me._ Duo sadly crossed off Baker Street Station, which was probably frequented by many other Sherlock Holmes fans and sightseers, then happily crossed off Victoria Station, which held too many bad memories. He then had to go to the nearest station left that was comprised of two words, which was Walham Green.

_This is getting interesting!_ he thought with a grin. It was then that he tried putting the items he carried into his coat pocket, and discovered that someone had stuffed a five-pound note inside. He smirked. _Heero thinks of everything._ There was enough for several comfy cab rides, and he used one of them to get to Walham Green Station, where the second note told him to examine every brick wall at eye-level.

_I'll assume he means my eye level,_ Duo thought after remembering that Heero now stood an inch and a half taller, thanks to his most recent growth spurt.

Several peoples' eyes were curiously upon him as he slowly meandered around the entire perimeter of the building, first outside then inside, looking only at one row of bricks. The search took more than half an hour, but he found something suspect on the wall between the ticketing area and the concession stands--a loose brick.

"Yes!" he hissed out loud, forgetting about the nosy bystanders as he pried the brick out little by little. Sure enough, there was another rolled-up note behind it, and this time, Duo really did jump up with excitement before snatching it out and replacing the mottled brown stone. The third note contained the names of another seven stations, which were to be added to the first, plus some additional instructions for determining where to go next. Duo sat right down on the ground and gnawed on the blunt end of the pencil while he figured it out.

_Okay...'Cross off every station that has a name comprised of a number of letters equal or greater to two-thirds the number of letters in our combined full names'...yeesh! If I'd known this was coming, I would've paid more attention to my math lessons!_ After a minute or two of intense thought, Duo crossed off London Bridge, Westbourne Park, Goldhawk Road and Swiss Cottage, leaving Richmond, Blackfriars and New Cross on the list. Of the stations remaining, he was to go to the one starting with the letter closest to the middle of the alphabet.

Duo slumped back against the wall. _...New Cross is clear across town! This is gonna take all flaming day!_ It was hard work to do all by himself, but he had already solved enough clues to give him confidence, so he took another cab to New Cross Station.

There were several more notes spread all over the city, each with another list of stations and an increasingly complicated set of instructions for finding the next locale. Along the way, he reasoned that Heero could only be an hour ahead of him at most, since he had been present at lunch and the treasure hunt began shortly afterwards. _He must've run straight out and started planting the trail of notes just before I asked Otto to help me find the photographs. The little sneak..._ Even though Duo was the one doing all the real work, he was immensely proud of Heero for concocting such a well-designed game of tag, and was also impressed that most clues had something to do with how much they knew about each other, and the lessons Heero had been giving him over the months. Even though Duo had nothing to compare it to, he felt as if it was final exam time.

It was well past four in the afternoon at Whitechapel Road when Duo found the twelfth and final note tucked into the knothole of a nearby tree. It was marked 'LAST' at the top in large black letters. _Finally!_ From his dwindling list of stations, Duo was told to cross off everything beginning with an even-numbered letter. Out went Tottenham Court and Bishopsgate, scratched off were Farringdon Street and Holland Park, eliminated with a deft stroke of the nearly-dull pencil were Rotherhithe, Lancaster Gate, and Paddington, leaving one name left over, the final destination.

"Marlborough Road," Duo breathed, fatigued but excited. He had just enough money left to get there, another testament to how perfectly the whole escapade had been planned. Jumping out of the cab on the street corner just in front of Marlborough Road Station, he looked at the building as a whole, then at each individual brick arch, savouring the anticipation for as long as possible before reviewing his last set of instructions. Inside, down the steps, to the tracks, have a good long look around. The simplest directions yet.

Duo shivered all over as he ran through the arched doors, down through the station and past a mediocre-sized crowd to the tracks. The platform itself was one of the smaller ones he had seen, large enough for a dozen people at most, less if one counted their luggage. It was raised just a few feet from the level of the dingy sidewalk corralled on all sides by brick walls, and Duo scrambled in between the few people present to climb the narrow stairs and search all around the station for his next note. Unlike the other locations, however, the terrain was sparse and dull, with few prominent nooks and crannies that weren't already populated with spiders and mice. The arched roof also had a musty odour that trickled down through the underlying airspace and made the boy's nose itch. It was pretty low for a final destination.

Stumped for ideas, Duo turned his attention to the tracks themselves. There were two sets spaced widely apart, and at that particular moment, a train was sitting and steaming up the air on the opposite side of the station, servicing a different platform. The vehicle was stationary only to allow some passengers to disembark and others to file on board. The other track was empty.

As Duo looked down the tracks in one direction, he saw that they continued under a brick and concrete canopy, atop which everyday life carried on at street level. It was a tunnel that had either been carved out of the city, or around which a part of the city had been built, but he couldn't tell. It was just an ordinary train tunnel...until he looked closer. Several yards into the tunnel, obscured by deep charcoal shadows, was a faint figure of a boy, hanging around between the tracks with his hands in his pockets. The chef squinted in disbelief, and Heero came into focus, standing in what could logically be described as a hideously dangerous place.

Duo's jaw dropped. He scrambled down from the platform onto the grungy sidewalk and ran as far as he could towards the tunnel until he was pinned between the corner of the wall and the steel safety fence that reached up past his waist. "Whaddaya think you're doing?" he called out into the shadows. "Come out of there!"

Heero shrugged. "Make me."

Duo leaned forward on the fence, balancing on his belly, holding onto the metal structure with one arm and gesturing wildly with the other. "What kind of crummy treasure hunt prize is this!? Get over here _now_, before you get smucked by the 4:30 express!"

With a hint of a smile, only barely visible in the darkness, Heero looked around the inside of the tunnel and appeared to think it over, then shook his head. "I like it here."

"Rrrgh!" Duo growled in exasperation. "I mean it, Heero! A train could come along any second! I don't wanna see you get hurt!"

Heero raised an eyebrow. "This is new...since when have you been afraid of a little calculated risk?"

"_Since_..." Surprised at his own volume, Duo cut himself off and looked behind him, but the sparse passengers waiting for the next train weren't paying much attention to the crazy kids. He sighed deeply with his whole body, letting his braid spill in front of his shoulder. "Since I messed up and almost got us killed. I swore off this kind of thing for my own good, and for yours too, so...just get _out_ of there, _please_?"

"I didn't know you as well then as I do now," Heero began, hands still casually in his trouser pockets, "but on some level, I trusted you. Can you look at me now and trust me even less?"

Duo squinted again, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"This is a challenge, and it's no different than the ones you used to badger _me_ with until I had to go along with them just to show you up," Heero said pointedly, but not angrily. "Your objective is to retrieve me from this train tunnel without resorting to emotional blackmail. As you've already seen, it doesn't work. If you give up and walk away, you lose. If you stand there for the next hour shouting at me without actually moving from that spot, you lose." He turned and strolled a few paces deeper into the tunnel, only to pause and turn again, walking backwards as he gave Duo an innocently expectant look. "I wouldn't take too long, if I were you. British Rail have schedules to keep." He faced forward again and disappeared into the blackness, relying on his challenge to save him from destruction.

Back on the fence, Duo gaped. _I can't believe he just...okay, this is about trust, right? I can handle that. Just run in and drag him out before...geez, I'm gonna smack him for this. What's he trying to prove, anyway? I thought he'd be glad that I've gotten more sensible since we met! Hm. Glad or not, he ain't bluffing, or he would've come out and said 'Ha ha!' by now...nah, he wouldn't say 'Ha ha!' even if I paid him. I'd better quit stalling and get in there. Just put one foot in front of the other...that's it.....geez, Heero..._

Duo swung one leg bravely over the fence, and then the other, dropping down into the railway ditch. Tossing his braid back behind him, he quickly repositioned himself between the tracks, where Heero seemed to be walking. It looked reasonably safe, as his personal variety of challenges went. There appeared to be just enough room for a person to stand and jump onto one track if a train suddenly materialized on the other. It wasn't necessarily fatal. Duo squared his shoulders and followed Heero into the tunnel.

He was surprised at how fast the surrounding light was swallowed up by the blackness, but kept going. He had also lost sight of Heero, and it gave him an uncomfortable feeling, after which he had to ask himself what had happened to his famous Maxwell nerve. _Naw, I know what happened. Nothing mattered a year ago. Death was no worse than life. Now it's all different. It's all...more valuable._ By the time he had finished his brief moment of retrospection, he found Heero. He was standing quite calmly with his hands behind his back, appearing totally oblivious to the potential fact that they were both in mortal danger.

"Okay, found you, now let's scram," Duo blurted, making a grab for Heero's nearest arm.

Unexpectedly, Heero grabbed Duo's outstretched arm, and in the ensuing confusion, snatched the other one as well, spinning him around to face the exit, while Heero faced the darkness of the tunnel. Duo had to gasp at the strange, shadowed look that had veiled the butler's normally placid features, knowing that it would have been there even if there were a thousand electric lights in the tunnel, all turned on full blast. He was wearing that tricky little smile again, the one that was so rarely seen and so scarcely understood. Something was on his mind.

"Let's stay here," he said.

Right behind those muted words came the shrill whistle of a train, and Duo stiffened, twisting around as far as he could in Heero's grip to look down the length of the tunnel. The brick walls slathered with inch-thick black pitch were slightly illuminated, as a bright light off in the distance splashed golden highlights for several yards. Duo turned back to Heero and tried unsuccessfully to tug his arms free. "This is falling under the category of _not_ a good idea, Heero!"

"You never used to be afraid," Heero replied.

"Well...I _know_ I was being stupid, dragging you along while I risked my neck, and I'm sorry!"

"You feel guilty about what _could_ have happened to us," Heero ventured, still not letting Duo move. "There's no need."

Back in the boarding area, the stationary train became less stationary, blowing its own whistle and chugging away from the platform, towards the tunnel. Duo strained to look over Heero's shoulder, and his eyes widened as he saw that they were rapidly becoming trapped. "Heero..."

Perfectly calm, Heero raised a hand and pulled Duo's face gently back to centre, letting the hand linger far longer than Victorian rules said he should have. "Don't look at them. Look at me."

Duo obeyed, helplessly drunk on exotic physical contact as Heero's arms slipped around his waist and pulled him close. Duo's own hands didn't know what to do with themselves, and found their way to rest on Heero's arms, just below his shoulders. The pair locked eyes on each other, and Duo felt some of Heero's calmness riding the waves across their gaze and into his belly, which stopped its terrified quivering. The trains were still closing fast, and as their engineers became aware of trespassers in the tunnel, they both blew their whistles more fiercely, but the youngsters would not be moved, except closer together.

"Do you trust me?" Heero asked, just below the noise of the trains.

Suddenly, Duo understood. There was nothing to fear there; it was a pure exercise in mutual understanding and trust. They had to truly know each other to meet, and completely trust each other to stay safe, not just there, but everywhere, and always. It was Heero's way of making a promise without using anything so trite as the actual words. Duo leaned in a little closer, relaxing as the wind whipped around them with increasing ferocity. "You know I do."

The whistles blared, the wheels clattered, and steam shot out from the braking mechanisms of both trains as they tried to slow down, but Heero had picked a spot far enough inside the tunnel that the effect would be minimized, and the wind force enjoyed to its full extent. It was perfectly calculated, a perfect mix of security and excitement, of serenity peppered with shots of adrenaline. Heero leaned forward, and at the exact point in time where each of the two trains shot past them on a different side, creating a miniature cyclone to which both boys were purposely oblivious, he pulled Duo even closer, and kissed him.

Duo shut his eyes and squeezed the arms holding him, half shocked and half exhilarated. His once-foolish daydreams about Heero being merely good with his hands were blown away by the reality that his lips were also extraordinarily talented. _Who've you been practising on!?_ he thought jokingly. As if in silent response, Heero deepened the kiss, adding all sorts of delectable tidbits to Duo's mental catalogue of pleasant sensations. They remained in this blissful state until long after the outgoing train had sped up and passed them by, and only very slowly after that did they pull a hair's breadth apart, savouring their secret.

Neither one wanted to break the trance as they stood there with closed eyes, in a relaxed embrace, but now that the peak of joy had passed, there were practicalities to think of. "We should go," Heero said softly. "The transport police won't be very forgiving if they catch us here."

"Mmmm," Duo moaned pathetically, wincing and smiling at the same time. "I don't wanna leave now. If we stay in the tunnels, we can do this all the time and not worry about what people might think of us."

It was tempting only on a fantasy level. Heero inhaled deeply and leaned back, and they both opened their eyes to look at one another. "It'd be a shame to lock ourselves away on the longest day of the year. Besides...I think I've made my point." Next to them, the incoming train had come to a full stop, and two conductors had leapt off and were calling down into the tunnel, trying to find the reckless daredevils who had been standing an inch or two on the happy side of harm's way. Heero preferred not to let them worry themselves. "This way."

The two of them clasped hands and scurried alongside the train in the dark, knowing there were only a few precious seconds left before it decided to take off again. As soon as they saw daylight, they squished through the gap between two cars, jumped over the steel safety fence, and were off, running up the musty stairs together back up to street level, where they took off in another random direction, still riding the high of cheating death.

Once they were sure that they weren't being followed, they unclasped hands while in public view, and then Duo just had to ask. "So, that's what this whole treasure hunt was about? Getting me alone so you could 'make your point'? If you'd known there was a lock on our bedroom door, you could've saved us a lot of hard work."

"I knew," Heero whined in mock annoyance, "but when have you ever enjoyed doing something the easy way? Did you like my riddle?"

Duo smirked to himself. The puzzles were a pain in the rear, but for the reward he had received, he would have followed Heero ten times around the world. "Yeah!"

"Then it was worth it."

They walked on, in no particular direction. Duo kept looking over at Heero, who was looking straight ahead, and kept wanting to throw his arms around him, or snuggle up to him, or _something_. He wasn't worried that Heero didn't seem bothered by the same urges, because he just seemed to be more reserved by nature. Still...the world suddenly looked like a completely new place to Duo, and he couldn't hold that feeling in. "I feel so _different_..."

"We _are_ different," Heero agreed, strolling along very casually with his hands in his pockets.

Duo walked the tiniest bit closer. "Different-good?"

Heero looked at his companion, and the tricky smile returned. "Different-_very_ good." Pleased by the smile Duo shone back at him, he stretched both arms high above his head and yawned. "Day off tomorrow...don't know about you, but I plan on sleeping in late."

Duo groaned. "I wish I could take days off."

"What's stopping you?"

A delicious thought. They could continue their little kissing experiment to their hearts' content tomorrow morning. Duo smirked. "Y'know...I'm feeling a bit feverish after all that excitement. I think I might be coming down with something."

"I think you should be careful not to spread germs all over the kitchen."

"I think I shouldn't go to work at all tomorrow."

"I think you're right."

Duo found that the more he looked at it, the more he liked Heero's new smile. It was a secret smile, meant only for him, and it said that no matter how far apart society made them stand, it made no difference to how they felt. It was a smile that promised many new delights and a richer, deeper connection that was a large step beyond plain vanilla friendship, and yet on the outside, as far as the rest of the world knew, Heero was still his usual self--strong, masterful, and totally in control. Because of the secret smile, Duo knew he didn't have to hug Heero in the street or hang off his arm to get a reaction, because all reactions could wait until later, when they were behind closed doors.

_I don't need to get overly physical with him,_ Duo thought impishly, _but I think I will anyway._ He threw an arm around Heero's shoulders, and Heero did the same, and to the whole world, they looked just like two old friends, and nothing more.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


_Next, in Episode Fifty-Two: Lord Jeffrhyss insists upon a meeting with his wayward agent, the results of which could put Duo and Heero's new relationship to its first test. Relena frets over the health of Prince Edward and the postponement of his coronation._

*SMOOCH* =^_^= Hee hee. That one was for real. And I'll tell you what else is real, the train station is real. (I'll tell you all about it in the historical notes. It's still standing!) But DON'T any of you even THINK about playing chicken with a train!! =o_o= Got it? Good. Now, this may seem like a LONG way away, but I'm going have to set the next episode for July 2nd. I'm going to be out of town and away from the computer over the Canada Day holiday weekend, and I wouldn't have been able to pull it together in time for next Friday. But don't worry, I'll have plenty of site updates to tide you over until then! Promise! =^_^=

**P.S.** Oh yeah...this episode, like many others, contains anachronisms. I can think of at least one person who doesn't seem to agree with my use of anachronisms. Well, I happen to _like_ my anachronisms. =^_^= They're fun. They're cute. They add splash. They add comic relief. It's called poetic license. So bite me. =P

**P.P.S.** Tanith! I wanted to wish you good luck and say thanks but it never lets me get through on your email! =O_O= I keep getting "delivery failures" so I must have the wrong addy. So I'll say it here. *pulls out megaphone* GOOD LUCK, AND THANK YOU! =D


	52. The Unseen Shackles

**Warnings: **Shounen-ai content. Damn, I like the sound of that...

**Disclaimer:** My current defence against any corporate lawyers who might decide to beat down my door and present a "cease and desist" order from BanDai is that I've been working on this for a WHOLE YEAR now, and if they even **tried** to shut me down, they'd have hordes of angry fans swarming all over them and plucking out each and every one of their body hairs, one by one by one. Right guys? *looks expectantly at her readers* ... *crickets chirp* ... =o_o;= *gulp* Uh...right? =D

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Fifty-Two: The Unseen Shackles

_"What we do not understand, we do not possess." ~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe _

July 2nd, 1902

Few things brought such ravenous hordes to the local fruit markets as the advent of the summer strawberry crop. In celebration of the season, Relena had declared that there would be a lavish strawberry social at her estate, to which the entire neighbourhood was invited, and for which Duo had a great deal of extra shopping to do. He took Heero along as backup, and together they fought through the hungry crowds that glutted the marketplace in order to procure two enormous bushels of premium berries, while Hilde and Quatre went off in another direction in search of fresh cream. There was a long, hot day of baking cakes and mixing lemonade ahead for the chef, so he enjoyed what little sunshine he could afford before locking himself away in his brown-tiled dungeon.

As they waddled back to Trowa and the carriage with their juicy burdens, Heero caught Duo pausing yet again to balance his bushel on one knee and pop a berry into his mouth. "What will you do when you get home and realize we only brought back _half_ as much as we bought?" he asked a bit snidely.

"But I'm hungry!" Duo whined, smiling mischievously. "And the more I eat, the lighter my load will be, so I won't pull a muscle. I've got six jumbo chocolate marble pound cakes to bake! You want me to be able to lift _those_, don't you?"

Heero smirked and grunted, already too tired to argue. He was severely envious of Duo's all-white uniform compared to his jet black suit, which was soaking up the sun's heat at an alarmingly quicker rate. Duo had a point about the baskets being heavy, too; they were cleverly constructed in several woven wicker layers so that one could carry three times as much without the berries on the bottom getting squashed.

Trowa had parked Relena's carriage well out of the way of the early morning throng, and was brushing the horses fastidiously with a wet brush to keep them cool. By the time Duo and Heero arrived, the fresh cream delegation hadn't returned yet, so they began loading the berry bushels inside so they would know as soon as possible how much sitting room was left for persons once the ingredients had been taken care of. Duo set his bushel down first, then climbed inside the carriage and had it handed to him from the sidewalk. "You ever notice how all these society parties are during working hours?" Duo remarked. "Is that all they've got to do all day, visit each other for tea and cucumber sandwiches, and say 'How nice your hair looks!' and 'What a lovely dress, is it new?' Don't these people have jobs!?"

Heero shifted the load of the first bushel to the chef's arms, not commenting on how Trowa rolled his eyes a few feet away. "I'll take that to be a rhetorical question," the butler said.

"Would you like some cheese with your whine?" Trowa said at the very bottom of his voice.

Duo immediately poked his head out the side window. "I heard that, Mr. 'I can't work outside between eleven and two because I get sunburned easily'!" Trowa rolled his eyes a second time in response.

Smirking at their silliness, Heero turned and leaned over to pick up the second bushel, but on the way up, a figure in white caught his attention, skulking around in an alley down the road a bit, and across the way. It was Wufei, and he was gazing intensely at Heero as if he had some important message to deliver. A message had been expected ever since Arthur reported that the boy had vanished, and the time had apparently come. Heero straightened up, passed the bushel to Duo, and the pair exchanged a secretive glance, during which Heero pointed to the alley with his eyes. Duo put the bushel down on the carriage floor, peeked out the opposite window, and quickly caught on. "Want us to wait for you?" he asked.

"If you would," Heero agreed. "This shouldn't take long." He crossed the street in between horse carts and pedestrians, and looked all around the marketplace for hidden observers before ducking into the alley.

Wufei leaned back against the brick wall, completely engulfed in shadow. "Miss me?" he said with a sweet smile and a devious glare. They might have been technically on the same side, but Wufei still had a few scraps of animosity saved up, just for Heero.

"Terribly," Heero said sarcastically. "What's happened?"

"Jeffrhyss is in London," Wufei answered without humour. "He wants to meet with you, alone."

"No chance."

"Don't tell me to go back to him with a refusal," the Chinese boy barked. "I'm probably in enough trouble already for breaking contact with him myself. If you send me away without the words he wants to hear, _I'll_ catch hell for it, and I'll be passing the suffering on to _you_, understand?"

Heero folded his arms and looked away. "Go ahead."

Wufei frowned, then lowered his voice, almost humbly. "Alright...then would you just think of yourself and your little 'friend' before you turn your back on your whole career. Every day you ignore your responsibilities you're compounding your eventual punishment."

"I'm not going to be alone with him for any reason," Heero declared. "Duo and I agreed that we'll _both_ fight him for as long as we have to even if it means waiting until he dies of old age. At least then I'll know I'm safe."

Wufei's eyes clouded over, his spirit dimmed by his unfortunate reacquaintance with the organization's policies. "No one in this whole world is safe...and even if Jeffrhyss died, someone else would take his place, you know that." He stared Heero down, hoping for his sake that he could see the strategic sense in fighting within the system, rather than against it. "He never told me specifically that he would try to reappropriate you at this meeting. As far as I know, he just wants to talk. Even _you've_ got to admit, that's an improvement."

Heero thought quietly, then paced slowly back and forth across a ten-foot stretch of the alley, once, twice, and a third time before halting. "I'll talk...but not alone. Tell him to meet me in Trafalgar Square at seven tonight."

"A public place on a summer evening!?" Wufei griped. "It'll be full of civilians! He'll never agree to that!"

Heero shrugged as he turned to leave the alley. "Final offer." He walked straight back to the carriage where Quatre, Hilde, and four jugs of fresh cream had regrouped with the rest of the party and were ready to go. He only told Duo about the proposed meeting, in quiet, and Duo immediately wanted to come along, but eventually, Heero talked him out of it, reasoning that the suggested locale was the safest place he could be.

**********  
  


It was turning out to be a beautiful summer, and Relena was tired of moping around the house in a suspended state of presumptuous mourning. She had already wasted most of spring in a fog of self-pity, and fully intended to break the habit before it became a way of life. With this in mind, she single-handedly hired a small string orchestra, arranged rentals of four large white marquee tents plus a plethora of tables and chairs, and made out an order to her chef for enough food and drink to satisfy the whole street. The sheer effort of so much delegation was exhausting, but it was worth it. Based on the strong and enthusiastic attendance, her strawberry social was a phenomenal success.

Seated languidly around the hostess' table under the centre tent were four of the neighbourhood girls who were roughly Relena's age, one of whom had just returned from an extended trip to India with her father, a local politician. She joyfully regaled the others with fanciful tales of life in the savage jungle, and Relena listened happily in a very relaxed mood, grateful to hear something other than doom and gloom.

"And not only that, but I learned how to ride an elephant too!" said the blue-eyed girl with the raven black hair held back by a pink ribbon. "It's not _nearly_ as hard as it looks, once you learn to balance properly."

"But wasn't it monstrously hot?" said the girl with the short blonde hair.

"Oh, it was like living in an oven!" the brunette answered dramatically. "The mosquitos were terrible too. I had to sleep in a big gauze tent every night, right inside my room so I wouldn't be eaten alive!"

"Ohhh!" the other girls moaned in wonderment.

"Still, Daddy told me that our guide told him that I was _very_ brave about it, and some women have run screaming into the jungle trying to get away and ended up being _really_ eaten alive by _wild tigers_!"

"Wowww!" the chorus buzzed again.

The dark-haired girl smiled and sucked up the attention like a giant anteater, pleased to have the others eating out of the palm of her hand. "We were quite worried, of course, that we might not make it back to England in time for the coronation, but now that it's been delayed, everything's worked out perfectly!"

"Yes, but what an awful way for it to happen," said the girl with the dark tan hair that stuck out a bit at the sides. "Think of poor Prince Edward, lying around in utter agony, without the strength to even--"

"It was _only_ appendicitis," said the girl with the shoulder-length auburn hair and the shiny brown eyes. "Don't make it sound as if he's on his deathbed."

Relena put down her glass lemonade after a drawn-out sip, and addressed the group. "It was still very serious. He had to have surgery, and as he's destined for the throne of England, I think we have a duty to wish him well." Despite her eloquence, something in her tone suggested that she still wasn't happy with the situation.

"I frequently get the impression from you that you don't particularly approve of Edward's ascension," the tan-haired girl said haughtily. "What _exactly_ do you have against him, dear?"

"It's not that I _dislike_ him," Relena said, "I just don't think he's the right man for the job."

Slyly, the blue-eyed brunette leaned toward the other three and whispered, "Her father didn't think much of him," to which the girls hummed thoughtfully as if to say, 'I see.'

"This is _my_ opinion, not my father's! Edward's never shown a drop of responsibility in his life! He spends each month in a different mansion, going pheasant-hunting, and theatre-hopping, he bets on horses, he gorges himself on five meals a day, and before _I_ even knew he existed, he had a forty-eight inch waist! He can't care much about the health of the Empire if he doesn't care enough about his _own_ health, and he's been on a habit of a dozen cigars every day, _plus_ almost _two_ dozen cigarettes! And he's a womanizer! In his younger days, he had a list of mistresses from here to the back porch! He drinks! He gambles! He was caught at an illegal card game and he's even been to court! And don't even get me _started_ on his political views! Once he's made King, he'll pack the house full of Conservatives and the women's movement will be pushed back thirty years, and I wouldn't be surprised if he sent our military _back_ to Africa to try and rekindle the war which can only lead to disaster because the Empire is a bubble that can only grow so big before it collapses under its own weight!"

The four girls stared.

Relena looked each one of them in the eye and saw that they really had no idea what was going on in the world. "Don't you people read the newspapers?"

Her friends took this to be a rhetorical question. The blonde girl cleared her throat. "Well, even _if_ everything you say is true, most of it happened a long time ago, and frankly, I think anything that happened before I was born is no concern of mine."

"Yes, and why tell us we should be feeling bad for him if he's as horrible as you say he is, hm?" the auburn-haired girl chimed in.

Fighting a blush that she knew she didn't deserve, Relena ducked her head momentarily before lifting her chin proudly and staring icily back at them. "In the end, it doesn't matter whether or not we, the people, approve of our monarchs. They have been chosen for us since 1066 and it's our duty to follow them and endure whatever comes from their choosing. I know I can't change what's about to happen, but as a free citizen, I have a right to reserve my approval until he shows that he's not the reckless gadabout he used to be."

The tan-haired girl waggled her eyebrows in a superior way. "Sounds to me like someone's confused."

"Yes, Relena dear, I think you've been reading too many of those rotten old newspapers," the brunette added. "You should stick to the society column where you belong."

"Like us!" the blonde girl chirped happily.

Relena sighed as the four of them went off on an unrelated tangent about the latest fashions from Paris. After seeing the way their faces scrunched up at what she was saying, she wondered if she really was confused, and if she hadn't understood what the papers were saying as well as she thought she did. She looked to her left and saw Heero under another tent, carrying a freshly-refilled pitcher of lemonade to a distant table and topping up the glasses of Mr. and Mrs. Stableforth from three doors down the road.

_It was only because of him that I started reading the whole newspaper in the first place. He combs through it so carefully...he thinks I haven't seen him do it, but I have. If he'd just talk to me like a friend, I'll bet he could explain everything to me, the workings of the entire world, and then I wouldn't sound so silly trying to explain it to my friends._

She looked to her right next, and saw Marcus and his parents, sitting under the third tent and carrying on a jolly conversation with Sir Richard Rotheby from the Binsbraughn estate. _Marcus knows a lot about the world too, but it was him that told me it's far too difficult trying to change things, and that I should just 'roll with it'. He could explain a lot, but he'd tell me not to concern myself with it immediately afterwards. I'll admit, it sounds rather nice...I mean, what am I other than an orphan girl with a borrowed title? I couldn't change anything I dislike about the world..._

The other four girls were clearly ignoring her, not prepared to let her join in the fun until she was ready to talk sensibly. Relena looked them over and realized that they were all horribly shallow, and was further shocked to realize that she used to be one of them. Still, she hated the thought of being without friends. As soon as there was a reasonable gap in their chattering, she took another sip of lemonade and attempted to rebuild the bridge. "You know what the worst part is about this coronation business?"

"What?" the girls asked in unison.

"I have to wait for days and days before I can show you all the new dress I bought for it."

The quartet smiled and welcomed her back into the fold, and they all went off on yet another unrelated tangent, forgetting all about boring things like world leaders and political distress.

**********  
  


At precisely seven that evening, two potential combatants entered an invisible arena from opposite ends of Trafalgar square. Just as Heero presumed, it was teeming with large numbers of people on a leisurely summer stroll, men in suits discussing politics, nannies with prams walking the perimeter where there were fewer pigeons, and children leaning over the edges of the sprawling fountains and dipping their hands in the water. On all sides were mammoth examples of fine architecture, declaring the expanse to be an unparalleled display of man's acheivement. Four great bronze lions kept watch over the scene from different corners, and as the authoritative statue of Admiral Nelson stood as always atop a tall column, it looked down at the people and reaffirmed that all was well in his domain.

Heero blended in surprisingly well, but considering his task for the evening, his attire was daring to say the least. For some strange reason, Lord Jeffrhyss thought stylish, casual clothes were a total waste of time and resources, so when he spotted his agent across a wide expanse of concrete dressed in a tan lounge jacket, cream-coloured cuffed trousers, brown pointed-toe patent leather shoes and no necktie, leaving his white shirt infuriatingly unbuttoned at the neck, the old man shook his head. Heero, for his part, looked his master over furtively from a distance and noted that his attire never changed; he still looked like he was on his way either to or from a funeral. Heero looked by far the luckier of the two for having Duo around to help him pick out new clothes.

Lord Jeffrhyss was sitting uncomfortably forward on the flat-topped, semicircular edge jutting out from the side of one of the fountains, facing the National Gallery, with his hand and hook perched on his cane in a classic pose. He peered out at the jubilant passers-by through the same dark round spectacles, out from under the same black homburg, and must have been roasting under the same long black overcoat, but gave no outward indication to that effect. He remained perfectly still as Heero approached from a very wide angle and sat a good four feet away from him on the other side of the rounded fountain's edge, tilted more towards the church of St. Martin's in the Fields, immediately crossing all four limbs and looking away in a well-choreographed snub.

"You're looking well," Jeffrhyss said eventually. This meant that the good life didn't appear to have made Heero soft, not that he seemed happy or personally fulfilled.

"You're looking unreadable," Heero answered. Jeffrhyss loved to hear things like that, but hated to hear them from Heero, for he had no one but himself to blame for training the boy well enough in psychology to know he loved to hear things like that. Heero silently revelled in the knowledge that he had just cleverly complimented and insulted the master strategist in one blow.

Just one of Jeffrhyss' remaining fingers twitched in annoyance. "I don't care much for your choice of venue for this meeting, I must say."

Heero turned his head just enough to snatch a look at the man from the corner of his eye, but said nothing.

"I suppose you thought you wouldn't see the light of day again if we met without witnesses," His Lordship continued, "and you've probably been wondering why I've waited so long to contact you. As a result, you imagine you've been forgotten, that you can wander about all day and not accomplish anything. You are _not_ the sole focal point of my universe, boy. I've had other matters to attend to lately. Now that these matters are over and done with, I have made the trip here to remind you of your duties."

Heero wanted to sigh very deeply, then became amazed at himself for wanting something so futile and self-indulgent, and suppressed it. "I've found every piece of information you asked for. What else can you possibly want?"

"I want you to watch for any change in Khushrenada's status!" the old man grumbled. "The coronation is looming over our heads like an enormous thundercloud! The fact that it's been delayed is all that's saved you from a _forcible_ recall! We can't afford to lose sight of him, especially now!"

_...what's so important about the coronation?_ Heero wondered. _Never mind, I can't think about that now. I'll just say what I came here to say._ "I don't want anything else to do with you or your organization," he said boldly as they both continued to stare straight ahead. "There are plenty of others who could take my place. Choose one of them and let me go."

"Ah yes...your note." Jeffrhyss' voice took on a patronizing tone like a teacher scolding a naughty child, and he dipped his hand inside his coat, pulling out the last piece of correspondence they had shared. It still bore the extra words Heero had contributed: 'You don't own me.' He turned and held it up to him. "This message of yours perplexed me greatly. You act as if you're a slave, though you've been handsomely paid for your services."

"Don't try to make it sound like I'm a hired hand," Heero protested as gently as he could. "You've always treated me like property, and tried to obscure it with all those stories about how I would have died in the gutter if you hadn't rescued me. None of it meant anything in the end."

As soon as the boy had finished speaking, an astounding thing happened. Lord Jeffrhyss put both 'hands' back on his cane, still holding the letter, and nodded thoughtfully. "You're right."

Heero snapped his head around to look at the man, eyes wide. Never in living memory had he ever heard the words 'you're right' coming from his master. It defied rational thought.

"That was another reason why I opted to join you in this absurdly silly place, not just because you've grown so slack in self-discipline that you speak without asking permission," His Lordship said. "I rather think it's time I owned up to something. Over the years, I've built up a reputation for always telling the truth, a reputation my entire organization has come to depend on. Now seems an appropriate time to admit that I have lied to you."

More deeply shocked, Heero just stared.

"Just once, mind you. I have solidly maintained that you were an orphan when I found you. Someone left you in the street, destined to suffer a slow death from starvation, disease, or more likely, a combination of both. I snatched you from the blackness and gave your life purpose. That is precisely what I have always told you, is it not?"

Heero felt his mouth going dry and his stomach clenching for some unknown reason. "...yes..."

In the elongated pause that followed, Jeffrhyss put the letter back inside his coat and took out another piece of paper, this one worn and weathered, with the appearance of having been folded and re-folded several times. "I didn't find you. I _obtained_ you...from your parents."

".....my.......my _what_?" Heero froze after that, unable to verbalize his emotions.

Jeffrhyss shook his head again, disappointed at how easily the boy was allowing his thoughts to surface. "How slothful you've become...but we'll deal with that later. What you will discover now is the terms under which I acquired you. That note you sent me about ownership was quite amusing, because, you see...I _do_ own you." He stretched out his arm and passed the worn paper to Heero, who slowly grabbed it with a numb hand.

"They came to me purely by chance, having travelled as far west as they could before they ran out of money, and by then, all they had left was you. Desperate to get back home, they sold you to me for the cost of two oceanic fares back to Japan. It's all there, see for yourself."

Suddenly feeling sick, Heero nearly ripped the page at the folded seams trying to get it open in less than two seconds. It was a contract of sale, neatly typed and adequately witnessed, promising ownership of one small boy, aged approximately four years, for a paltry few thousand Belgian francs. Beside Lord Jeffrhyss' scrawly signature were the marks of two others, brushed with smooth black ink in graceful Japanese characters, both beginning with the family name 'Yuy'.

"...this is a forgery," Heero said shakily, swallowing often. "You forged Prince Edward's name once before, so you must hav--"

"I assure you, it is one hundred percent genuine," Jeffrhyss cut him off. "They authenticated it with their own hands, in front of witnesses. It doesn't matter how many times you tell yourself that you no longer want any part in my plans, because there will always be some place in the world where one human being can own another under the law, and when the rest of society turns their backs on us, we shall go there together. You will _always_ belong to me, Heero."

Heero heard, but did not answer. He was still poring over the contract, looking for any small imperfection that might have proved it was a fake, but there were no extra features that couldn't be explained by age. Then he started looking for a legal loophole, but the language was compact, precise, and absolutely perfect. There was no way out but death, and trying to challenge Jeffrhyss' iron will in public courts could easily have the same result.

"You may keep that...I have plenty of copies all over my network of training facilities. I may have lied that one time, but everything else I've told you is the truth. Without me, you would have grown up to be a drudge, a mindless lump without direction or a higher purpose. You would have been just as drab and average as everyone else, if you didn't simply die in your infancy...I developed and enhanced your natural talents beyond the capabilities of two foreign peasants, far beyond any school yet built, and I have asked for nothing in return except your obedience, and perhaps your gratitude." Slowly, the old man lifted his cane, stretched it out to the side and hovered the tip an inch above Heero's shoulder. The boy was still sickeningly engrossed in the contract and didn't notice. "I know more about you than anyone else, and I didn't raise you to be selfish, did I?"

With that, Jeffrhyss let the cane drop, tapping Heero on the shoulder. Startled, Heero leapt off the bench, swatting at his shoulder like one brushes off an ugly spider. He backed up sharply, still clutching the contract, and wanted to growl something like 'Stay away from me,' but he was paralysed from the neck up. Some random impulse in his brain got a message through the fog of panic and told his legs to move, and he turned and lurched quickly away, almost crashing into a strolling couple in his haste. Jeffrhyss returned to the sitting position he was in before Heero arrived, and watched him.

Dizzy from feelings he couldn't understand, Heero speed-walked away from the fountains and towards the street, and was just about to detour around a small clump of people when a vacant-eyed young man about his age in shabby gray clothes stepped out from behind them. It was one of Jeffrhyss' grunts. Heero stopped, made brief eye contact with the automaton, and headed off in another direction, but he didn't get more than ten yards before another grunt stepped out from behind a carriage. Every direction he turned, there was someone waiting for him, trying to herd him back to the fountain, and there was a constant recirculation of pigeons all around him as they fluttered out of the way each time he moved. He was feeling dizzier by the second.

Soon, the grunts were closing in on all sides, walking slowly enough not to frighten the flock of birds at their feet. Heero told himself that this was all just a scare tactic, and that he'd be a sorry excuse for an agent if he couldn't think his way out of it calmly, for grunts were far slower, both mentally and physically. He waited until the grand total of eight grunts had formed a circle around him no larger than ten feet across, then quick as a flash, drew his gun and fired a single shot into the air. Everyone in the square gasped and whirled around looking for the source of the noise, and the pigeons didn't like it one bit either. The entire flock flew up from the ground all at once, flapping right into the faces of the dim-witted grunts, and while they waved their arms madly in front of their faces to bat the bags of feathers away, Heero ran straight through them, out of the park and down the street. It happened so quickly that even the few policemen standing about had no idea what happened.

At the fountain's edge, Lord Jeffrhyss let one of his fingers twitch in annoyance yet again.

**********  
  


About an hour after Heero left, Duo took a chair and plunked himself out on the balcony to their bedroom, next to the Arabian Jasmine plant, which had already outgrown two earthenware flower pots. He watched the sun set, watched Relena's guests slowly trickle back to their own homes, and finally watched the band leave, and the rental firms collect their tents, tables, and chairs. He thought to himself that Heero was taking an awfully long time to get back from his 'meeting,' and that he really should have followed him at a distance anyway, just to be sure, but it was too late for that.

At some point, he heard the distant echo of the front door opening and closing, and sighed happily, guessing that Heero had made it back safely as he promised he would. Several minutes ticked by, however, and he failed to come upstairs for a rest. Fifteen minutes later, Duo got a little bit worried, for that was more than enough time to touch base with Otto and explain that there was a last-minute errand that had to be completed, and that was why he left the house. _He should have been up here by now._

Duo tip-toed downstairs, but found the foyer empty. He scoured the kitchen area and asked around to anyone who would pause long enough to hear his question, but that turned up nothing as well. Lastly, he wandered out into the garden and patrolled the entire perimeter of the house, and it was while he was standing on the front walk looking up that he found his answer, and sighed again. Duo hastily went back indoors through the kitchen, picked up an item he'd been saving all afternoon, and plodded upstairs to the attic.

Just as he suspected, the faint candle glow he saw from the front of the house was coming from their old room. The housemaids were all still downstairs working, so it was perfectly safe to hide there for a little while. He nudged the door open just a bit and saw Heero, sitting on their old bed with his back propped up against the wall, one arm hanging off his bent knee and the other leg stretched out across the full width of the flimsy mattress. His eyelids were three-quarters down, and he didn't look very alert.

"Hey," Duo said quietly. There was no visible or audible reply. "I saved us some strawberries...lucky I did, Relena's giggling girly friends are little piglets." Again he waited in vain for a response, then shut the door quietly and sat down on the bed next to Heero, balancing the ceramic bowl of strawberries on his lap. "C'mon, talk to me...please? I can't fix whatever's wrong if I don't know what it is."

Heero drew a long breath and continued to stare at nothing. "Do you ever imagine what your real parents must have been like?"

That was a particularly confusing issue for Duo, and he had to think about it first. "Well...since I found out my parents weren't my parents after all...yeah, I guess so."

"Do you ever wonder why they would give you up for adoption?"

"Geez, I dunno...could be _their_ parents forced them to do it because they just weren't ready to have a kid...could be they both died at the same time...or they just couldn't afford me. There's lots of reasons it could happen. I think I pretty much saw them all at the orphanage."

Heero nodded once, still staring.

Now Duo was very worried. His friend didn't seem right at all, and it was a little bit scary after watching him come to life over the past several weeks. "Why do you wanna know? Did something go wrong tonight?"

Wordlessly, Heero reached into his tan lounge jacket and took out the folded piece of paper he'd been given earlier, passing it over to Duo without making eye contact. Duo looked oddly at it, opened it, looked even more oddly at it, and struggled to string together all the big words he didn't know. Overall, he eventually got the gist of it, and after seeing the squiggly markings at the bottom amongst other official-looking signatures, felt a prickly heat creeping up the back of his neck. "What the hell is this!?" he shouted.

"He said he knew my parents, briefly. He said they left their home and travelled west, but he didn't say why." Heero's voice suddenly turned sarcastically sing-song. "They ran out of money to get home, so they sold their first-born into slavery to a madman with a cane."

Duo let the hand holding the paper fall down next to him and banged his head back against the wall. "They can't do that. Nobody does that. No matter how bad things get, you don't sell your kid. It just isn't done."

"First time for everything."

"How do you even know this is real!?" Duo hollered, glaring intensely at him and gesturing sharply with both hands. "Need I remind you about that 'royal pardon' hanging up in the drawing room? The man's a forgery genius! How hard would it have been to fake this!?"

Heero's eyes shifted to the left ever so slightly, towards Duo. "It feels real. I don't know why. He showed me that contract to make a point, that he owns me outright, and that he'll never let me go."

Saddened by the whole revelation, Duo set aside the contract and the bowl of strawberries, and scooted closer to Heero, wrapping both arms around his waist and nestling against his shoulder. He may not have had first-hand experience at being slave labour, but he knew what it felt like not to be wanted by one's own family. "Hey, I'm making decent money here...if I start saving now, maybe I can buy you off him." Heero's mouth twitched upwards at the idea, and a small piece of a trapped laugh escaped as he exhaled through his nose. "That'd be something, a mouse owning a tiger," Duo added with a smile and a squeeze. Just then, he detected a whiff of alcohol coming from Heero and was convinced that he had no skills for coping with emotional pain because he was never expected to have any. Duo squeezed a little harder and nuzzled his neck in sympathy.

Finally waking up from his nightmare, Heero pulled his left arm free and wrapped it around Duo, squeezing back. "I know why he told me about this today and not before. He considers it a symptom of my rebellion that I'm able to be hurt at all, and if he hurts me enough, he thinks I'll run back to him, because he can make sure I never feel anything else ever again. He's trying to break me."

"...he won't...will he?"

Liking the familiar warmth that had suddenly wrapped itself around him, Heero smiled a bit and reached across Duo's side to grab the bowl of strawberries with his right hand. "That depends on you," he said in a velvety tone, balancing the bowl between them and plucking out a berry for himself.

Duo smiled and hummed thoughtfully as they both dove into the bowl. "So, the better I make you feel, the less likely you'll go running back to him to have the bad feelings erased?"

"I don't think I could stand to go back in any case. The food in his compounds is terrible," Heero quipped, taking a bite out of a plump, oversized berry and holding the other half in mid-air.

"I'll just keep doing what I'm doing, then," Duo laughed, biting down on his umpteenth berry of the day. He immediately made a face and swallowed it as quickly as he could. "Bleh...that one was bitter."

Heero saw an opportunity, and the tricky smile appeared. "Have some of mine."

Duo looked up at the uneaten half of Heero's strawberry, expecting to have it handed to him, but instead, he felt a sudden pressure on his left shoulder. Heero pulled him up, angled his head down, and planted a surprise kiss on the boy, letting one thick, sweet taste mingle between them for several blissful seconds. When they pulled apart, Duo was again wondering and puzzling to himself over Heero's spectacular skill. _One of these days, I'm going to find out how you got so good at that overnight,_ he thought as he snuggled happily back against Heero's shoulder.

Soon after that, voices and footsteps wafted up through the servants' stairwell; the housemaids were on their way up. The boys snuffed out the candle and waited for the girls to settle into their room and shut the door. Ever so quietly, Duo and Heero crept out on tip-toe, sneaking down the stairs to their newer, more comfortable room, and of course, they took the bowl of strawberries with them.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


_Next, in Episode Fifty-Three: Fuelled by discontent over his position, Wufei picks a fight with Jeffrhyss and learns something he never wanted to know. Heero takes Duo along on a pilgrimage to find memories of his youth and runs into a familiar face with information to share._

*kissy face* I've done that strawberry kiss before, and it really works. *yum* Mark down July 12th for the next eppy, and I'm going to make a real effort to publish earlier in the day during the summer months, since I figure a lot of my readers are out of school now. =^_~=


	53. La Belle Odalisque

  
  


**Warning:** Deep, dark, personal secrets from someone's past, laced with sexual innuendo. =o.o=

**Disclaimer:** My current defence against any corporate lawyers who might decide to beat down my door and present a "cease and desist" order from BanDai is that I've been working on this for a WHOLE YEAR now, and if they even **tried** to shut me down, they'd have hordes of angry fans swarming all over them and plucking out each and every one of their body hairs, one by one by one. Right guys? *looks expectantly at her readers* ... *crickets chirp* ... =o_o;= *gulp* Uh...right? =D

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Fifty-Three: La Belle Odalisque

_"No, it is not only our fate but our business to lose innocence, and once we have lost that, it is futile to attempt a picnic in Eden." ~Elizabeth E. Bowen, "Orion III" _

July 12th, 1902

Deep underground in the secret compound on the Isle of Wight, life hadn't slowed down one bit during the lazy summer days. The caverns and catwalks were constantly buzzing with workers, scurrying around like little bees in a most unusual hive. It seemed that the only one who didn't have a task to complete was Wufei, and he was fairly sure why.

Like Heero, he had ignored his duties for a prolonged stretch of time, choosing to hide in Arthur's cottage and not contact Lord Jeffrhyss in any way. He still wasn't completely sure why he did this, but now he knew he was in trouble. Day after day passed with him lolling around in his temporarily-assigned living quarters, a cubicle with a grand total of one piece of furniture, and each morning he anxiously anticipated the arrival of a handful of guards at his door, to take him away for his rightful punishment.

As time wore on, nobody came, and Wufei was beginning to lose his appetite worrying about what Jeffrhyss had planned for him. It wasn't that he wanted to know right away, he just wanted to get it over with, and after eavesdropping on enough high-level conversations to know just how terrible His Lordship's punishments could be, the sooner the better. When he was finally sick to death of waiting, he crept into the large circular chamber that was at the centre of every one of Jeffrhyss' secret compounds, the one he reserved for himself and his collection of curiosities, and found him. He was in a typical position, hunched over a table peering at papers through his dark spectacles with a glaring white lamp shining over his left shoulder. With all the deference he could muster, Wufei walked carefully up to the table and stopped just out of reach of the man's cane.

"Master, may I speak?"

Jeffrhyss grumbled in a bored sort of way. "If you must." At the very least, he was mildly satisfied that the boy had retained his humility, unlike others he could mention.

Wufei kept his eyes to the floor and his hands where they could be safely seen. "How long am I to remain here?"

"Until I find you another task."

The semi-direct approach had apparently failed. "I was referring to my punishment," Wufei said, looking up slightly.

Jeffrhyss grunted almost imperceptibly. "I don't recall ordering anything for you. Go back to your area and await further instructions."

Reflexively obedient, Wufei bowed curtly at the waist and turned to go, but didn't make it all the way to the chamber door. He could have let it drop, and probably _should_ have let it drop, but something just didn't seem right about the ease at which he was dismissed. He turned and walked back up to Jeffrhyss, still not daring to look directly at him, but bolder than before. "Forgive me, but I don't understand. Why am I not being punished for such a serious offence?"

"Mm?" Jeffrhyss continued to stare at his map, acting strangely disinterested. "What have you done?"

At this point, Wufei really should have had the good sense to confirm his master's temporary amnesia and walk away, but his anger was growing. "I broke communication. All operatives are required to check in regularly, and I have failed to do so for _weeks_."

Jeffrhyss slowly looked up, stared at the boy with a tiny twitch of his moustache, and looked back down. "Go back to your area."

"_No_," Wufei spat dangerously. "If _Heero_ was standing here accused of the same offence, you'd punish _him_. I've heard you discussing it with three different controllers! He's all you _ever_ talk about! My rank is nearly equal to his, so why should _he_ merit so much more attention!?" As soon as he said it, he regretted it, but on a deeper level, he really wanted to know why Heero was always so heavily favoured in their master's eyes.

The old man's reaction was quizzical to say the least. He snorted out a peculiar laugh and turned the map over to look at the other side. "You only think your rank comes anywhere near his."

Wufei bristled. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not going to punish you because you are simply not worth the effort," Jeffrhyss said plainly. "You're not an operative in the official books...you're a tattler. I only let you _believe_ that you'd actually moved into an agent's position so I could get twice as much work out of you for the same amount of food."

"That's...just not possible!" Wufei shouted. "My first master _promised_ me a transfer with full honours!"

"There are no 'transfers' here, boy," Jeffrhyss said with obvious disgust placed on the effectual word. "After the way you bungled that gold shipment years ago, there was no way you'd ever be trusted with essential duties again, but rather than waste your talents for snivelling, crawling, and general nosiness, I purchased you from him at a bargain price. There was never any likelihood of making you an agent due to your uncontrollable emotional reactions and thirst for vengeance."

Wufei very nearly staggered backwards from being hit in the centre of the chest with such stinging words. There was a surreal quality to the entire conversation, which was the first real two-way talk the pair of them had ever had. "Why are you telling me all this _now_?"

"You initiated the exchange, you live with the consequences."

"You can't...I'm not just...this is no way to..." The angry stutters grew into a full-strength growl complete with balled fists and a reddening around the cheekbones. "I'll quit! I'll leave the service if you don't take that back! I'll walk out of here right now!!"

Jeffrhyss opened another map and laid it on top of the first, studying it. "Go, then."

Wufei's eyes bugged out. This was the ultimate insult. He stormed to the door and turned back, giving the vicious old curmudgeon one last chance to recant. "I mean it! You'll never see me again!" By now, he was actually hoping to be dragged off in chains and beaten for his insolence, because then, he wouldn't have invested so many years, so much energy, and perhaps his entire future in the wrong system.

His hopes were soon thwarted. Jeffrhyss rose from his chair, hobbled over to another large map on his chamber wall, and turned his back on the boy. "Tattlers are easily replaced."

Shunned and rejected, Wufei's blood pressure skyrocketed. _Aged fool! You're bluffing and I'll prove it! If I try to leave, I won't make it ten feet past the front door!_ Determined to prove his self-worth, Wufei ran out through the cement-lined hallways strung with barred electric lights and burrowed deeper into the compound, to the living quarters of personnel in transition. Smashing open the door to his cell, he flung both arms under his bunk and dragged out everything he had brought with him from the manor, bundling it all up with twine scavenged from a crate of bean sprouts. Once all his worldly possessions were safely in hand, he struck out towards the surface, hoping for heavy resistance.

He found...no resistance at all. No bells sounded. No lights flashed. No guards appeared with weapons drawn, ready to cut him down like any other deserter. He made it all the way to the camouflaged portal that opened outwards into the picturesque countryside, and two men were attending to it. Wufei walked right up to them and snarled.

"I'm leaving! I've had enough of this place, and I'm getting out! Now, _step aside!_"

To his horror, they stepped aside. Further infuriated, he grabbed one of them by the lapels of his black uniform and shook him. "What's the matter, too cowardly to put up a decent fight!? Come on! Just try and stop me!!"

The guard shook him off, glanced at his companion, and together they released the wall clamps holding the portal in place. In effect, they were showing him the door. Wufei stared at the thin line of blue sky that appeared, watched it grow into a rectangle large enough to walk through, and felt like sinking right into his shoes. It was true; he was no more valuable to the organization than a common grunt, for tattlers were only a miniscule step above grunts in the official hierarchy. Stinging from the terrible slap in the face, Wufei couldn't stand to turn around and go back inside knowing how little he was worth there, and slowly walked out the door.

He stopped a few feet from the entrance to the compound, standing on dewy green grass and listening to chirping birds circling overhead, flapping merrily and wondering what strange insect had just crawled out from beneath the hill, and just stood there. The guards pulled the camouflaged platform back up behind him and secured it in place, locking him out. By now the message was pretty clear; he wasn't needed. He walked away under a thick black cloud of emptiness the likes of which he hadn't felt since the train robbery that claimed the life of his beloved.

**********  
  


For some eccentric reason, suddenly and with no explanation, nothing could enthral Relena and tie up her attention for hours on end like the daily newspaper. The housemaids and Dorothy had no idea what was so fascinating about non-social news, but obeyed her explicitly when she asked to be left alone each day in the parlour with _her_ paper. It was no longer even circulated around the house for anyone who wanted a peek at the almanac weather forecast or the latest cricket results. Anyone stuck in that position would have to buy their own.

Since she realized how out of touch her simpering little friends were with reality, Relena threw herself into current events with a zeal she never knew she had. Even she didn't understand why, but it was something she needed to do. That morning, like the last half-dozen or more, she sat in her parlour with mid-morning sunlight streaming in through the windows, surrounded by tea and biscuits and everything else she could possibly ask for, and forced herself to learn about the world.

The front page announced a change of leadership in the Conservative party. Arthur James Balfour was replacing his uncle, Lord Salisbury, as Prime Minister. _No surprise there...our future king must have thought him an excellent choice. I should find out what Balfour believes in...then I'll know whether to believe in him or not._ The second page detailed a celebration to be held for a champion of the Boer War, a soldier of Irish origin who would be given a true hero's welcome in London later that day. _Why should I call this man, this...'Horatio Kitchener'...a hero, when I don't even know if we really won the war? He travelled there to do battle, and probably killed more people than he saved...why should I call him a hero for that? Were we even invited to Africa in the first place, or did we barge in and expect to be welcomed just because we're British? There's so much I don't know..._

Each new page brought new curiosity, and a desire to fill the growing void that was left by her gradual disabsorption with trivial, girlish things. She learned that it was the second anniversary of the Battle of Silkaatsnek, touted as a being important to the war effort, though she wondered who the true victor was; she felt doubt. Then she saw a distressing piece concerning a mine explosion in America, one hundred and twelve fatalities in Johnstown, Pennsylvania; she felt sorrow for them, and for their families. In another small corner, she found an editorial mentioning someone named Mahatma Gandhi, discussing his policies towards emigration in India, and she was instantly intrigued.

_How could I have missed so much all these years? I'm still awfully young, of course, but...that shouldn't be an excuse for being ill-informed. Heero and Marcus aren't that much older than I am, and they seem to know entire encyclopedias worth, but I can't believe it's only because they're men._

Puzzling and puzzling over the problem, she folded the newspaper back up and set it beside her, substituting for it a sip of tea and a bite of a freshly-baked muffin with a light glaze of marmalade. _If it's not age, and it's not gender...then what __is_ it that makes a person worldly and intelligent?

An hour later, she hadn't moved, nor had she discovered the answer, but one thing was clear: She wanted very badly to be one of the worldly instead of the vacuous, self-centred puffball that society seemed to prefer her as. Now that she was very likely to be the sole caretaker of Bridlewood, it was time to grow up.

**********  
  


Somewhere south of the Thames, in what any sane person would have called a very rough neighbourhood, sat a broken-down old warehouse. From the outside, it looked as though it should have been condemned years earlier. It was a six-storey brownstone situated on a squatty, weed-stricken piece of land, surrounded by a rickety iron fence that was covered with various warnings to keep the general public out. All but a few windows were boarded up with rotting wood planks, adding greatly to the forbidding image of the building, which, at one time, was a vibrant centre of business, packed with crates of goods bound for export. Its glory days were clearly gone.

Inside, the cavernous darkness echoed a curious selection of clicking noises as someone outside picked the rusted padlock on one of the smaller exterior doors. With the last decisive clink, the lock fell to the stony ground, and two intruders gained entrance. The first carried a lantern to combat the black depths, and the second took one whiff of the stale, musty air and wrinkled his nose. "Whew! ...they haven't done their spring cleaning yet, have they?"

"There _is_ no spring here," the other replied, "no seasons of any kind."

Duo shut the door behind them and squirreled his lockpicks back into his braid, looking around with disdain. "Yeah, I see what you mean." It was about as bad as disused warehouses could ever be. Where there weren't cobwebs and piles of sawdust, there was just ugly, blank space, divided by mould-encrusted timbers into rough square shapes, still marked into categories of merchandise by little painted signs that hung from the rafters. The ground floor alone used to be a twelve thousand-square foot hub of transport for dozens of local businesses, but no more. For a number of years it laid vacant, before being bought up and retrofitted by an 'entrepreneur' by the name of Jeffrhyss.

"I never saw much of this floor," Heero said, angling the lantern towards the centre of the complex, where four thick vertical support beams encased a massive spiral staircase wide enough for three across. Finding nothing of interest there, he walked up to the black metal stairs and took a few tentative steps up. The entire structure creaked and moaned, but didn't move much, and settled down quickly. He beckoned Duo to follow, but it took the chef a good thirty seconds of prayer before he would trust the semi-sound structure himself.

"How old were you when they brought you here?" Duo asked uneasily, concentrating more on staggering his steps from Heero's so they didn't stress the staircase too much at once.

"Not sure. Thirteen...maybe fourteen. We'd just spent several months in another facility somewhere in Europe, as far as I know. I rarely knew where I was being kept, and they made sure I was well hidden during travel from one base to another, but I remember a long boat ride that was probably when we crossed the Channel."

"Or they could've sailed out in a big circle and ended up where they began, just to confuse you."

Heero reached the second floor and paused thoughtfully before stepping out of the stairwell. "Also a possibility."

The second floor was in an even more dilapidated condition than the first. Duo frowned. "Do you even know what you're looking for here? It all looks the same..."

Reaching back into his memory, Heero extracted a feeling of climbing a long spiral staircase blindfolded, and compared it in length to the portion he had just traversed. "Much farther up," he said, resuming his ascent. Officially, he was looking for the place where he had learned the details of his mission, and spent months on specialized training for a specific purpose, but unofficially, he was looking for something more, something he wasn't sure he wanted to find, and something he definitely wanted to keep hidden from Duo. He had been so insistent on accompanying Heero on his quest, however, that he would not be left behind for anything.

As they climbed, they stopped briefly on each floor to observe the state of decay. The third floor was much more well developed than the previous two, to Duo's surprise. Interior walls had been added, and there were large, rectangular patches on the floor where the dust was considerably thinner, suggesting furniture such as desks, shelves, tables and chairs that had been recently removed. Scraps of electrical wire littered the floor and ceiling where costly electric lights had been ripped out and taken along when the warehouse was evacuated. It all gave the impression that the occupants were used to picking up and moving at very short notice. Following a dust-induced sneeze, Duo wondered just how long the building had been empty. "When did everyone leave?"

"Probably right after I was released, early February of last year," Heero replied as they hiked gingerly up to the fourth floor. "It was earlier than they expected, so they were relying heavily on my ability to adapt quickly. I never saw this building again, but I memorized the location the day I left, in case I ever needed a bolt hole. I just assumed they would clean it out and move on as soon as I was gone."

"You appear to have assumed correctly," Duo said mechanically.

When they got to the fourth floor, the look on Heero's face changed from stoic to intimidated as he detected something different in the atmosphere. He kept his face carefully turned away from Duo's so the other boy wouldn't notice, but it was a difficult thing to do while being bombarded with two years' worth of memories. Insisting that they not linger for very long on any floor until they reached the top, he dragged Duo along with little explanation. The fifth floor was a blur as a result, but Duo craned his neck and could see the remnants of what appeared to be living quarters, with some very tacky furniture that must have been too much bother to cart down five flights of stairs. Logically, if Jeffrhyss' organization had to leave in a hurry, they would have only taken the most valuable items.

Finally, they made it to the sixth floor, which was as far as they could go. The stairs ended with capped-off iron pipe for a handrail, and were nearly lost in the total darkness that engulfed the expanse. Every possible crack or crevice through which daylight might have leaked in was tightly sealed, locking the entire sixth floor into an eerie state of perpetual night. Heero sighed, almost sadly. "Home."

"...ugh...surely you jest." Duo crept away from the stairwell and squinted at the walls, curiously drawn to their dully reflective surface. The light from the lantern was only partly swallowed up, and if he stretched out a hand to the wall, he could see a very faint peach blob of luminescence reflected off his hand. "What's the matter with these walls?"

"Metal plating," Heero said. "By that time, I could have kicked my way right through conventional materials if I'd gotten out of control." He then led Duo in a broad circle around the stairwell, indicating various chamber doors left partially ajar and identifying the rooms within. "That was the gym...and this one was for book lessons.....this was the infirmary, although it was just a chair and a cabinet full of bandages and peroxide...I wasn't in there much.....and that was the common area, for meetings with Jeffrhyss."

"What about that one over there?" Duo asked, pointing to a small closed door with a little barred window that Heero seemed to have skipped over.

Heero paused, studied the door, and shrugged. "I don't know," he lied. There were still things he didn't want Duo to be burdened with, and one of them was the tiny cell reserved for beatings and other forms of corporal punishment. Trying to draw the boy's attention away from the sinister-looking door, he continued on to a little cubicle in the north corner with a heavy wooden door that swung outwards, and opened it. "This was my room."

Duo stepped inside and was instantly horrified. It was less than half the size of their old room in the attic, barely large enough for the flat, shabby bunk positioned against the longest wall. There was no door handle on the inside, and a little slot in the door with a sliding panel allowed a fairly tall person to look in on the subject from time to time. The walls were gray plaster that was chipped and peeling in several places, mostly around the ceiling, which bore small circular soot stains from candles that must have been carried in by his various keepers when they came to check on him, rather than leave him alone with an open flame. At the top of the longest wall was a single, long air vent covered by a metal grate, wide enough to let fresh, slightly salty air into the room, but with down-sloping slats that prevented the captive from peering outside at the real world. In one of the other walls, there appeared to have once been a window, but it had a massive metal plate bolted over it. Only a tiny amount of ambient light seeped in through the air vent, but even in the middle of the day, the room was depressingly dark.

The total despair of the place overwhelmed Duo suddenly, and he doubled over, choking on the taste of bile creeping up his throat. Heero quickly put both arms around the ailing boy and set the lantern on the floor before it was dropped. Steadying Duo while he gagged and coughed, he sat him down on his old bunk and cuddled him close while he recovered.

"This isn't a bedroom, it's a _jail cell_!" Duo spat finally. "Convicted murderers in Dartmoor have it better than this! _I_ had it better than this when I was living out of a cauliflower crate! It's _inhuman_!"

_This was a mistake,_ Heero thought guiltily as he slowly massaged Duo's arm to comfort him. "I suppose it was...I just...never could have known it until now."

"H-how many of these hell holes have you lived in?"

"...a dozen, maybe more. It was hard to tell when I was younger. They all looked the same."

Duo glanced away to his left and tried to concentrate on something else, but only ended up looking at the bed they were sitting on. It was only a bed in the vaguest academic sense, if a three-inch-thick slab of compressed rags wrapped in threadbare cotton could be called a mattress. The frame was wrought iron fashioned into ugly, stark bars, and not quite hidden from view was something shiny and metallic dangling down to the floor--a length of well-worn chain, used on a nightly basis to shackle Heero's hands to the bed. Duo recoiled slightly, and Heero gripped his shoulders a little tighter, wondering if he should allow the boy's exploration to continue.

Collecting himself with a deep breath, Duo shifted a little where he sat and thought he might be okay, until his leg brushed up against something thin and rigid under the bed. Not wanting to look right away, he reached underneath the iron frame between his knees, about where one's chest would be if one were lying down, and pulled something up. It was the loose end of a thick leather strap with a shiny brass buckle. "That's it. Get me out of here."

Duo scooped up the lantern and bolted out of the cell with Heero not far behind. "You wanted to come with me," he reminded him gently.

"I know! I know!" Duo shouted, stopping wearily at the top of the stairwell. "I just...I wasn't prepared for it. For some wacky reason, I thought _you_ would be needing _my_ emotional support. When you said you wanted to go back to your old barracks and training facility, I at _least_ pictured a certain minimum of respect for human life! And this has been going on for _twelve years_!? How do they get away with it!? Why don't the police do something!? They can't treat little kids like animals!!"

Heero leaned casually against one of the dull metal interior walls. "That's a strange thing to hear in a country famous for sending ten-year-olds down coal mines."

Duo sighed and leaned against the handrail, the lantern hanging limply in his weakened grip as he swayed his head from side to side in disbelief. "How could you _live_ like this?"

That was an even stranger thing to hear, but at least Heero had more insight to devote to it than he would have the year before. "It was normal," he said simply and innocently. "There was a routine. I woke up every morning to the sound of my instructors' footsteps on the stairs. The meals were all the same, and came at the same time every day. Combat practice was always in the morning, language classes were always at night. All the lessons in between were on a strict schedule, and every day was the same." He glanced down at the floor and thought better of that last remark. "Most days were the same. The point is, I never knew any different."

Duo shook his head again and then pushed himself off the handrail, walking numbly to the middle of the hallway. Realizing how downtrodden his friend felt, Heero met him halfway and they hugged for a bit, just long enough to stop Duo's stomach from churning. Deciding that it would have been cruel to keep Duo there any longer, Heero chose to cut his search short and take him home again, but as they made their way back down the stairs, an unwanted memory took over Heero's conscious mind, re-enabling another old routine that he never wanted to experience again.

While he had both hands on Duo's shoulders, guiding him safely down the spiral staircase, he felt the ghostly presence of two instructors behind him, a stocky male and a less than voluptuous female, boring four holes into the back of his head with their eyes and marching him along the same path over and over. The length of the march was firmly ingrained into his memory, and when they all reached the fourth floor together, he stopped, finally knowing where to look for his mysterious treasure. At that point, the march typically made a right-hand turn and went down the hall a fair distance; Heero looked to the right and felt the return of the strange, familiar atmosphere that he had tried to ignore on the way up. This was definitely the place.

Duo walked on a few steps before noticing that Heero had halted his descent. He looked back up and found him staring hypnotically down a hallway. "Hey...you coming or what?"

"In a minute." Heero stepped out of the stairwell and gestured for Duo to follow, which he did. Then he slowly swept his eyes around the fourth floor and let them land on a large door in the opposite direction from the targeted hallway. "That was the war room. If we're lucky, they might have left some papers behind that could be of some use to us.

"I don't see how, they've taken everything else of value," Duo said doubtfully.

"Still...why don't you have a look? While you're at it, I'll go through the storerooms." He gave Duo the lantern, turned towards the darkened hallway and considered the matter closed.

"What should I look for?" Duo called out.

"Anything!"

The chef worried for awhile as Heero walked away, that perhaps seeing his old living quarters had shook him up worse than he let on, but went anyway to the war room door with the intent of carrying out his instructions. In reality, Heero knew the war room would be empty like the rest, but wanted some time to investigate the hallway to the right without Duo poking his nose in. In a way, he felt bad for deceiving him after everything they'd been through, but a little voice told him it was for the best. Heero walked quickly to the end of the hall, not realizing that a third pair of uninvited eyes was watching him from the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.

The last door in the dark hallway was the same heavy block of wood that was on Heero's cubicle, with the same thick metal deadbolt. He gripped the stout handle and slid the bolt back with a peculiar kind of reverence, and once the squeaky door was opened just wide enough to step through, he went straight to the windows and shoved aside their shutters, letting the blue-red glow of early evening flood the room. He turned, recognized the room he was in, and felt his own stomach fluttering unpleasantly.

_Nanni mo arimasen...it's all gone...everything..._

It was a truly beautiful space, and had been even more lovely with its old furnishings, which had been removed with everything else. The floor was finely polished cherrywood, the walls a mixture of decadent paper coverings and warm wood trim, and yet another clump of cut wires stuck out from the middle of the ceiling where the electric chandelier used to be. The bed, the couch, the vanity dresser with the gilded mirror, the bookcases, and even the music box that played an assortment of romantic tunes were all gone, and the built-in wardrobe was empty of the exquisite clothes that used to hang there. On top of it all, the claw-footed sink and matching bathtub had been taken from the ensuite bath, but the black and white checkerboard tiles were in perfect condition. It looked almost ready for another unfortunate to move in and be subject to another's will.

_Gone...to be used over and over again...I should have done something to stop it...but I never realized then how valuable--_

It was right then that he heard the voice. "Terrible! It's nothing like what it said in the ad! 'Charming fixer-upper', my foot!"

Within milliseconds of the first syllable, Heero had his trusty six-shooter trained on the direction of the voice. The owner of the third pair of eyes watching craftily from the darkness slowly stepped out of the shadows and into the beautiful room, revealing himself to be a tall, mushroom-haired man with small round spectacles and a smouldering pipe. There was a small degree of familiarity about him, but most of all, Heero knew his voice. He felt sure that he'd heard that voice on and off in a dreamlike state throughout his childhood, but at no time could he remember seeing the man's face...

"Hey!" Duo yelled as he ran back from the opposite end of the fourth floor. He knew the tall, funny man well enough from behind that he already had a friendly smile plastered across his heavy-hearted features. "What're you do--" He only made it halfway through asking the man what his business was in the building, and then froze when he saw Heero's revolver pointed in their mutual direction. "Put that down, okay?" he said, grinning nervously and holding up a trembling hand.

Heero stepped a bit to his right to ensure a clean shot that would not endanger Duo. "This isn't a good time for surprises," he answered. The effects of a sudden confusion injection were making it difficult to distinguish who was what in that room.

"Heero, you _know_ Professor Giorgenson," Duo said pointedly. "He dropped in on us in Hampshire, while you were sick...remember?"

The butler wasn't sure if he really did remember, because much of the time he spent in that cottage he was either doped up or crashing down, but he couldn't deny trusting Duo's judgement. "Vaguely." He lowered his weapon, but did not put it away.

"I assume you're the two young owners the estate agent told me about," the Professor said in a glowing sing-song voice, totally unaffected by having a pistol shoved in his face. He kept one hand in the pocket of what looked like a white lab coat and used the other hand to tap his pipe out on the cruddy old floorboards outside the beautiful room. "Now, I _might_ be willing to take this place off your hands after all, but I'm not paying more than twenty dollars a month for it, and I want the windows replaced, a fireplace in the master bedroom, ceramic tile on the patio, an island in the kitchen, and a little man to come 'round once a week to mow the lawn. And don't try giving me that nonsense about having another buyer willing to pay full price, I'm wise to that trick."

Duo saw the doubtful look on Heero's face and squeezed past the Professor to stand next to him. "Don't worry, he's not crazy," he whispered, "Lucrezia says he's _always_ like this."

Giorgenson grinned, stretching his bushy moustache out to its full horizontal limits. Heero still looked doubtful, but the semi-stranger hadn't done anything threatening yet. "How did you get all the way up here without being heard?"

"Humblest apologies, m'boy," Giorgenson said, "I sneaked in through one of the fire exits. I know you're thinking 'What fire exits?', but believe me, they're around. You'd have found out about them if there was ever a fire."

Heero found the man's entire set of mannerisms unsettling; he seemed to be strongly advantaged by secret knowledge, and though Duo had told him all about their past dealings, he just couldn't trust him that easily. "How long have you been watching me?"

Giorgenson habitually relit his pipe and puffed away at it while he composed a sufficiently cryptic answer. "Since you were about that high," he said, holding his hand three feet off the ground, "but if you just mean today, since Drummond Road. Nasty neighbourhood you've got here, had to keep both hands on my wallet the whole time."

"But what are you doing _here_?" Duo asked, not at all displeased. "You must've been following us for a reason..."

"When I saw the direction you were headed in, I knew what you were probably after," the Professor said directly to Heero. "When I saw you stop on the fourth floor, it was definite. There's...not a lot I can tell you other than...well, you won't find her here. She left about the same time you did, son."

Heero winced sharply and dropped his head an inch or two. This was exactly what he didn't want Duo to hear.

Duo looked deceptively blank and turned slowly and calmly towards Heero. "She? She who?"

Heero glared at the mushroom-haired man and holstered his gun before he did any serious damage. "Thanks a lot."

Giorgenson's face grew long, and he took the hand out of his pocket to tug the round spectacles halfway down his nose so he could look directly over the wire rims, his gray and green-flecked eyes expanded by the weighty guilt of a major _faux-pas_. "...oh boy..."

"Is someone going to tell me what this is all about?" Duo demanded after stuttering solidly for ten seconds. He tried to take hold of Heero's arm, but the suddenly gloomy boy slipped out of his grip and straight out the door, staring at the floor the entire time. "Heero!"

"Let him go, son," the Professor sighed. "It's my fault. He hasn't told you everything about this place, and I should've guessed that he wouldn't. That's always been my trouble. Some days I only open my mouth to change feet."

Duo hung off the door frame and watched with forlorn eyes as Heero walked away and sat down on the spiral staircase, angled away from the beautiful room, and sank his head into one hand. "Whuh...what's going on? Why is he--"

"C'mere a minute, let's leave him in peace while I clue you in," Giorgenson said, pulling Duo away from the door and closer to the bright windows. "I wouldn't judge him too harshly for keeping secrets like this, kiddo. I suspect he's had a lot on his mind lately, and it's not all good."

After what he had already seen, Duo couldn't imagine a part of Heero's past that could be much worse, but he couldn't help him until he had all the facts. "I'm listening."

The Professor paced for a bit, searching for an appropriate beginning at which to begin, then made his choice and faced the boy. "You've known for a long time that Heero was sent specifically to sweet-talk young Miss Peacecraft into letting him stay in her house so he could fulfill the kernel of his mission, correct?"

"Yeah, to watch Treize," Duo affirmed with a single nod. "But even Heero doesn't know what he's watching him for."

"Let's leave Treize for a moment, this has more to do with Relena than anyone else. It all boils down to one of Lord Jeffrhyss' 'brilliant philosophies' about manufacturing the perfect spy. Imagine yourself in Heero's position: You're on a mission to collect reconnaissance for your master, and you have to do it quietly. Suppose a high-ranking yet terminally dull government official has the information you want...how do you get it? Take it from his desk drawer while he's not looking? Probably won't work more than once. Hold the man hostage until your demands are met? Puts you in the public eye, and that's the last thing an agent wants. Kill him in his office and help yourself to whatever you need? Nah, don't rock the boat unless you absolutely have to." He puffed twice on the old briar pipe, demanding ultimate attentiveness. "But..._seduce the man's wife_...and you'll have an indefinite supply of inside information, that's what Jeffrhyss decided. All he needed was a truly mesmerizing boy who could mercilessly charm his way into the bedroom of any head of state, and the rest would take care of itself."

Duo drew back towards the window, feeling his throat closing up from revulsion. "He hasn't...done _anything_ like that!" he whispered harshly.

"Not yet," Giorgenson pointed out, "but that was the purpose Jeffrhyss set aside for him when he began to change from a boy into a young man. As soon as His Lordship and his council of advisors saw that well-shaped frame and those big blue eyes, his path was set. They were sure that he'd grow up into a real ladykiller, and they started looking for places to exploit him right away. Relena wasn't their first choice, but she came about as a sort of a test case. The organization has known for years that Treize needed to be watched, but there was no one female in his life that held all of his secrets, and that led them to look at his immediate family, which led to Relena. They knew he'd be coming to England, but didn't know exactly when, so they had to act fast.

"Jeffrhyss collected information on her when she was about ten or eleven. His advisors all came to the same conclusion about her...blonde hair, blue eyes, quite pretty. They calculated what she'd look like when she turned sixteen and sent scouts all over Europe with photos and ink drawings, looking for someone cheap and available. The scouts returned with a fourteen-year-old French orphan girl who was working in a terrible factory for wages that bordered on slavery. She was brought before Jeffrhyss and his council, who, again, came to a consensus...blonde hair, blue eyes, quite pretty. They brought her here."

Finally able to blink, Duo looked around the room they were standing in, and decided that the decor was rather feminine. He tried to ignore the fact that his fingers were going numb and choked out another supposition. "This...was her bedroom?"

The Professor nodded. "Since Heero had spent very little time with anyone except instructors with cold voices and hidden faces, they needed to acclimatize him to Relena's general looks and manner...plus, for lack of a more delicate way of saying it...they needed someone for him to practice on." He didn't see the glimmer of understanding in Duo's eyes that he was hoping for, and had to get more specific. "Heero could walk up to ten women and charm nine of them into doing whatever he wanted right away. Did you think it was some sort of instinct? That he was born knowing how to manipulate the average feminine mind? No...like anything else, he had to be taught, and that pretty little French girl was the teaching tool. For the last two years leading up to his release, on top of his regular studies, he was educated in seduction."

Duo inhaled painfully. _No...no, he wouldn't go through with that and not tell me...not now, not after we've been..._ A blend of anger, revulsion, and disgust flooded him, and he didn't know whether to scream or cry. He simply grabbed the front of his shirt with both hands and scrunched the white cotton into two tight knots while he fought not to start hyperventilating.

Always secretly sensitive, Professor Giorgenson harrumphed and paced quietly towards the door. "I can tell when I've opened that one can of worms too many...and now I think it's time for someone else to continue the story." As he strode out to the stairwell, Duo stumbled after him, and they both looked at Heero, sitting in a pitiful little curled-up ball with his face still turned away. "Isn't that right?"

When Heero finally looked up, he had the strangest look on his face, something in between self-loathing and total bewilderment, as if he couldn't understand this new feeling that had suddenly consumed him. Duo found that easy to believe. He peered at the boy from the side, for he hadn't yet turned enough to make eye contact, and if he used his imagination, Duo could see a trace of shame. _He couldn't stand to tell me...couldn't stand thinking that I'd hate him for it._

"I'm going to leave you to it, and I expect you to clear things up, understand?" Giorgenson told Heero firmly. "And if it helps to know this...my connections with Jeffrhyss run pretty deep. After you left, I convinced him that there was no longer any specific need to keep her here, and he sold her to me. I set her free that very day. She's living in Paris with her grandfather now."

Indescribably grateful for that bit of knowledge, Heero sighed deeply with relief, then scowled at the Professor. "You might have told me that earlier instead of letting me sit here and worry all this time!"

"Well, that's what you get for not trusting your friends with the truth!" Giorgenson scolded. "Now, tell this boy what he needs to know and get yourself home." He marched halfway down the metal steps to the third floor, then paused and looked up at the pair. "Oh, and, um...I'll be wanting to talk with you..._all_ of you...before the coronation. The new date is less than a month away, and while I still have the official capacity to do so, there's some more history I want to share with you, and anyone else who's stuck their neck out for you, especially where Treize is concerned. Everyone deserves the truth." With that, he was gone, and the boys had nothing left to fill the void but each other.

Heero was still looking away in disgrace. Duo calmed down a great deal when he saw how distressed he was, even though for someone like Heero, it was barely visible, like most other emotional reactions. _Aw. Poor guy didn't know what to think. It must feel weird, the whole prospect of being unfaithful to someone before you ever meet them._ He tilted his head lovingly to the side and smiled. _And he's cute when he's pitiful._ "Hey...c'mon, forget about it," he said, plunking himself down on the stairs next to Heero and throwing an arm around him. "We're still best friends, nothing's different, I promise. I'm not upset."

At that heartfelt admission, Heero relaxed significantly and leaned into the hug. "It wasn't until recently that I started thinking about what must have happened to her after I was gone. Neither of us chose to be here, and I _certainly_ wouldn't condone what happened between us now, but...at least she knew me...or was just used to me. I think I must have learned how to worry about people by watching you, and then I realized that even though I was gone, there was no guarantee that she wouldn't be..." Heero swallowed and windmilled both hands in a visual search for just the wrong word. "..._given_ to another man, about to learn the same things I learned. I had to find out if she was still here, or maybe find some clue..."

"Hey, you don't have to explain, it all kinda makes weird sense now," Duo said quietly. "And I'm sorta proud of you for being so worried...shows that you're not a drone anymore." He stared down at the next few steps below them and swallowed. Trying to be honest when he said he wasn't upset was a bit of a challenge. "So...what were these...'lessons' like?"

Heero shrugged, and grew slightly more sheepish the longer he spoke. "They brought me to her room every two or three days, and two instructors would stand right next to the bed, watching us. They told me exactly what to do and studied the girl's reactions to see how comfortable I was making her. They said that everything I learned, I'd be using in my mission...how to entice...how to stimulate the senses...small talk, compliments, massage...actually, there was quite a lot of...touching...involved..."

"Well...what if she didn't want to? They couldn't very well force _you_ to force _her_...to..."

Heero looked at him with dark, depraved eyes, silently pleading with him not to ask that question ever, ever again.

"Okay...it's okay, forget about it," Duo insisted, squeezing harder. _That was more than I wanted to know, but hey, my fault for asking, I guess._ Edgy, he started babbling. "The fact that you were so worried about telling me is actually kinda nice...but I'm not that fragile, alright? I'm smart enough to know the difference between what you do with your body and what you do with your heart. Whatever happened is all in the past, and it doesn't have anything to do with us right now. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn't count anyway, not if they made you do it, and...if you're ever really concerned about what it's done to the state of your soul, I'm always willing to take you to your first confession and you can get it all out in the open, I mean, who knows, you might feel better after that, and you won't think of yourself as this hideous womanizer or worry that this poor girl's going to be branded with a scarlet letter for the rest of her life, 'cause I think God understands the difference between a sin you commit with a gun to your head and one where you're really enjoyi--"

"_Duo_..."

"...yeah?"

"When I was released, _all_ of my training ended _early_. What happened in that room was only from the waist up."

Duo blushed crimson and grinned. "...oh. Heh.....I knew that." He cleared his throat, took his arm back and tucked both knees up to his chest, hugging them instead. It was the only way he could stop himself from giggling. "But you still know a lot about...that sort of thing, right?"

"Would you mind terribly if I did?" Heero asked craftily, finally slipping into something of a good mood.

"Heck no," Duo said in a half-laugh. "Granted, I think their methods sucked, but for you to just...know things...I don't think that's wrong by itself."

Heero smirked slightly. "I didn't think you'd have any cause to object, seeing as how you're the only one currently in a position to benefit from that knowledge." Just when Duo thought the back of his neck couldn't get any hotter, Heero snaked an arm around his shoulders and tugged himself closer, planting a short, light kiss on the little corner between Duo's ear and jawline. Immediately afterward, he got up and started back down the stairs. "Move along, nothing to see here."

After the resultant surge of adrenaline and other euphoria-related chemicals, Duo was almost afraid to stand up, but managed to haul himself to his feet and follow only two steps behind Heero. "Hey...I understand now that it was a long shot coming here at all, but what would you have done if she'd actually been here?"

Heero thought about it for half a dozen steps. "Probably apologize." Another four steps, and the thought expanded itself. "Though I wouldn't expect her to forgive me."

Duo jogged down quickly and caught up to him, linking his lantern-free arm around Heero's. "Anyone who knows you _now_ would forgive you in a heartbeat. I know I would." Their eyes met briefly in a shared smile, then tilted back down to the metal staircase so they wouldn't trip in the darkness. In a roundabout way, Heero got the answers he was hoping to find, and found a comforting truth that he hadn't expected. Duo didn't care about what he used to be, only what he finally was.

  
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_Next, in Episode Fifty-Four: Wufei laments over five wasted years as a lonely, purposeless drudge, and Yasmeen laments over her inability to find her sisters another hiding place, until she follows members of the household around for a day and gets an idea._

*sits back and lets the keyboard cool off* =^o^= Hee...I told you some time ago that Heero's training methods were a LOT different in this story, and now you know I wasn't bluffing! The highly astute among you may know who the poor little French girl is...or maybe you just _think_ you know...or maybe I'm just _letting_ you think that you think I'm letting you know...or maybe...uh, I'm gonna stop now before I give myself a headache. Will we ever meet this girl? Maybe, maybe not. =^_~= Either way, next installment is due on July 22nd. Hope to see ya then!


	54. A Day in the Lives

**Disclaimer:** My current defence against any corporate lawyers who might decide to beat down my door and present a "cease and desist" order from BanDai is that I've been working on this for a WHOLE YEAR now, and if they even **tried** to shut me down, they'd have hordes of angry fans swarming all over them and plucking out each and every one of their body hairs, one by one by one. Right guys? *looks expectantly at her readers* ... *crickets chirp* ... =o_o;= *gulp* Uh...right? =D

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Episode Fifty-Four: A Day in the Lives

_"The difference between perseverance and obstinacy is that one often comes from a strong will, and the other from a strong won't." ~Henry Ward Beecher _

July 22nd, 1902

_"8:15 am. Each day, I have prayed for my family's salvation, but we are no closer to freedom. Today, I will find a solution, or my sisters and I will leave England and take our chances elsewhere. Laying low is one thing, but living like a flock of ostriches, that's unacceptable."_

Yasmeen closed up the gilt-edged book in which she wrote of her cross-country adventures, and tucked the pen into a pocket of its leather casing. Unlike so many other women of the same age in her native land, she was highly independent and an accomplished mathematician, and was also certain that she could feel her brain cells expiring from boredom, being trapped in an Englishwoman's cellar. In addition to her daily journal entries, she frequently jotted down complex equations to keep her mind in top shape, and her book was getting full. This was secretly a major motivation for wanting to get herself and her sisters out of hiding, for that was the only way she might safely go out and buy another book.

Urgent to get on with her plans, she made a perfectly-timed venture up to the attic and changed clothes into a black dress made of ornate brocade silks that she had found in a trunk. Well-practised in stealth, she was able to creep up via the servants' stairwell and poke around in the dusty storage areas, once she knew the daily routines of all the housemaids. The black silk monstrosity was about the only sensible thing she could find in the antique trunks that was suitable for making her look like she belonged in London, and it was about her size too. She found it odd that there were so many women's clothes up there that weren't being worn by anyone, but resigned herself to never really knowing why.

Packaged with the ruffly gown was a funny looking metal basket made of a very fine mesh, but it was a totally impractical shape to use for shopping or even as a purse, so Yasmeen left it behind. As a result, when she put on the dress, it drooped at the back where the wire mesh bustle was supposed to be, but she knew very little about English fashion, and didn't connect the two curiosities.

To complete the ensemble, she found a wide-brimmed hat of black-dyed straw, which she reasoned would slightly shade her middle-eastern features if she went out in bright sunlight. She wrangled her hair into a sloppy bun which she needed two full cards of bobby pins to secure, and topped it off with the hat. The total effect as shown by the dusty full-length mirror looked decidedly strange, but it was as good as it was going to get. Guided by a prayer, she closed the trunk gently and tip-toed back down the stairs, but a raised voice made her stop between the third and second floors.

"Can't you find someone else? I'm _desperately_ in need of some chocolate biscotti, and the only store that imports it closes at noon!"

"Just five minutes, my sweet! This is a very important decision that really requires a woman's expertise."

"Oh, honestly..."

Intrigued by nothing more than the sound of some new and different people, Yasmeen padded closer to the ruckus. She took off the straw hat, rolled it into a tube, and tucked it into the same hand that was holding up the excess folds of the dress, and very carefully peered out of the stairwell and into a hall she had never seen before. A girl with long hair the colour of Hessa's, but seemingly closer to Nashida and Asalah's age, was walking away and turned into a doorway about two-thirds of the way down the south hall. After how hard Yasmeen had prayed the night before, opportunity could have lurked behind any corner, so she gathered up her borrowed skirts and slunk down the hall after her.

"Alright, what's so important?" the girl's voice whined.

Yasmeen approached the open door and immediately saw a tall, broad-shouldered man with reddish-brown hair and rather demonic forked eyebrows, looking in her direction. Panicking, she ducked into a door on the opposite side of the hallway. To her benefit, that room was dark.

"I have an important business meeting on the horizon," the man said. Yasmeen guessed that she hadn't been seen after all, and opened her door a crack; she could see that it was only the man's reflection in a full-length mirror like the one in the attic, and relaxed a bit. She could also see a sliver of the blonde girl's dress, and a few locks of her hair fluffing out past the door frame. "The reading of Lord Peacecraft's will was set for the end of the month yesterday, and I have to look my best for it, don't I?"

"Only you could call something morbid like that a 'business meeting'," the disembodied girl's voice scoffed.

"Well, there's going to be an awful lot of momentous paperwork transpiring between Mr. Marlowe and myself, and who knows? We might even be visited by members of the press once the future of this estate is revealed." The auburn-haired man held up a blue sport coat on a hanger, standing behind it and looking off into the imaginary distance. "What do you think...intellectual and cordial, with an air of incumbency, or..." He paused to lower the blue coat and hold up a black one, pinstriped with red satin lining, looking off in a different direction. "...inwardly contemplative, yet prestigiously triumphant?"

"What's the difference?"

The auburn-haired man lowered both jackets and scowled at the girl in mild exasperation. "They each require a different pair of _shoes_...shoes that will have to be _polished_ before the reading! And there's _ties_ to consider! It's important that I walk into that room looking like an English millionaire," he said, walking out of the mirror's view, "...since I'll be walking _out_ as one..."

"You have to make such a production out of _everything_, don't you?" the girl commented. Her words mingled with the clinking of coat hangers, and the man returned to the mirror with an austere gray jacket, holding it up in the same manner and smirking at himself in the mirror. The girl went 'hmph.' "You don't even know what's _in_ the man's will! This whole charade could be a complete waste of time!"

"Not so, my lovely," the man cooed. "I've never felt so confident about anything." As he angled his head this way and that in the mirror, he stopped and stared...stared in the exact direction of the slightly open door across the hall.

Yasmeen held her breath, unsure of whether or not he could see the shine of her eyes. _Don't...blink.....stay absolutely......still..._ He stared for ten thousand eternities, and the slightest flinch in the glint he saw across the hall would be rightly interpreted as a sign of life. Yasmeen's eyes were beginning to sting from being forced open. Fuzzy patches of red and gold and purple flashed across her field of vision. Every muscle in her face was screaming in agony, and just when she thought she couldn't take anymore, the man flicked his peculiar eyebrows up in a shrug and looked away. Yasmeen gasped quietly and dropped her head into both hands, feeling an autonomic surge of emergency liquid flowing from both tear ducts.

"Have you thought about what to do with the rest of us who aren't so lucky?" the girl sniffed with sarcasm. "I hope I'm not going to find myself homeless once this is finished."

"I'm not a cruel man, Dorothy," the gentleman purred. "You and Relena and Otto will be perfectly welcome in my new home. As for the rest of these..._squatters_, well...painful decisions will have to be made."

Though her vision wasn't completely restored yet, Yasmeen could hear by the smile in the man's voice that there would be nothing painful about it, whatever it was. The two of them spent another ten minutes or more on clothes for the gentleman's upcoming occasion, then left the room together. Yasmeen was surprised at how deeply she had been affected by the minor spectacle, and knelt down behind the door to record her thoughts in the little gilt-edged book she carried, after checking her weather-beaten watch by the sliver of light coming in from the hall.

_"8:42 am. I have just seen two of the indigenous faunae in their natural habitat, and I can't say I'm impressed. The gentleman, if one can call him that, seems to have all the integrity of a used horse trader, and has the kind of smug attitude that makes me want to rip those unholy eyebrows off his head and stuff them in his mouth. The lady whimpers like a starving jackal, though I'm sure she's more than well-fed, and I imagine she's never blessed herself with an honest day's work in her life. I can say this with confidence because I'm related to several more whimpering jackals just like her. I also know when people are up to something rotten, and these two take the prize, but a pair of vipers like them will never share in the same kill. They'll bite each other eventually, and if I see them together again, I'm going to run the other way."_

Yasmeen put the pen in the book, put the book in the pocket of the billowy, diaphanous drawstring pantaloons she was wearing under the dress, collected her hat and her skirt, and got back up on her feet. A set of light footsteps swooshed past the door, and she held her breath again. They soon passed, and she was free to slip back into the servants' stairwell and continue her descent.

When she was almost down to the main floor, the footsteps that once passed her came barrelling down after her instead. She dove out of the stairwell and into the hall, but froze at the sight of another tall, broad-shouldered man walking away from her position. In a scramble, she fled a few doors down towards the front of the house and ended up safely tucked away in a closet by the time the footsteps swept past her again, and was quiet enough that the man didn't turn around.

"S'cuse me, sir," said a young, timid English voice, "but 'ave you seen the mornin' paper? Only I've started followin' the Royal Family, see, an' since I don't go nowhere, the paper's the only--"

"Yes, yes, alright," a gruff male voice answered. "You can have it as soon as I'm finished with it, wherever it's got to. I need it to find an alternate supplier for the staff uniforms...I suspect we're being overcharged."

"Yes, sir. Shall I 'ave a look through the study for it, sir?"

"No, I've already looked there."

Another set of footsteps announced themselves, coming from the back of the house and stopping right in front of Yasmeen's closet. "Have either of you seen the paper this morning? I want to look something up and I can never find it anymore."

Yasmeen recognized the voice. It was Quatre's tall friend, Trowa. She could have safely revealed herself to him, but didn't know the other two, and so stayed firmly put. She was fairly sure, however, that the young, timid voice was one of the housemaids.

"Well, when we find it, you can 'ave it after me," the maid said.

"_I_ need it first," the gruff man insisted, "then Bethany, then you."

"That's hardly fair," Trowa said. "You've got all day to sit inside and read the paper, I've only got five minutes before I'm needed outside again. I think I should have it first because I've got a lot of work to get back to."

The housemaid gave an offended little snort. "Uh, s'cuse me, what d'you think _I_ do all day, fling me duster about once or twice an' then put me feet up? There's others in this 'ouse who've got schedules to keep!"

"Quiet, both of you!" the gruff one barked. "_I'm_ the one with the most seniority, and _nobody's_ picking that paper apart before _me_."

On the other side of the closet door, in the pertinent hallway that was hosting the argument, a fourth person stepped in, just to confuse things for Yasmeen. "Is this what you're all squabbling over?" the newcomer said in a sweet but condescending tone. Yasmeen dared to open the door a crack to take a peek. It was a fair-skinned blonde girl, but definitely different that the one that had been talking to the demonic-looking man upstairs. Her voice was warmer, and her hair was of a much darker, more honey-like shade. She was carrying a newspaper, and stopped in front of the trio, folding her arms. "Let me tell you something..."

Yasmeen winced. She knew that tone meant someone was in for a tongue-lashing.

"You know what you people are? You're newspaper piranhas. Every time you get your hands on one of these, it gets torn to shreds. Pages missing, ink smudged, sections scattered all over the house, and there's invariably something that's been cut out from the opposite side of every single article I want to read! _I_ am lady of the manor, and this is _my_ newspaper! I pay you all a fair wage, and I _know_ you have more free time on your hands than you claim in your daily whining, so you can either wait your turn, or go out and buy your _own_ paper!"

The message didn't get through very well. All three piranhas reached out for the newspaper and rapidly insisted that each of them 'would only take a second' to find out what they wanted to know. In the muddled tri-voice chorus that stepped on its own words and meshed into an annoying buzz, Otto droned about new suits, Bethany about the royals, and Trowa about cricket. With a sigh and a scowl, Relena came to the conclusion that it would only 'take a second' if she did it herself.

"Enough! That's enough!" she snapped. "Otto, the suit you want is on sale at Clark and Debenham, but it only comes in brown. Bethany, Prince George and Princess Mary are definitely expecting a baby, it's due in December. Trowa, there's a rumour circulating that England are replacing Jessop with Fred Tate for the test match against Australia, and the forecast is for rain." Relena slapped Otto in the belly with the newspaper, and he latched onto it with a startled arm before it could drop to the floor. Her Ladyship took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and put on a mask of total relaxation. "If anyone needs me, I'll be at the newsstand."

The suddenly silent trio watched her walk away, humbled and a little bit frightened of the strong-willed ghost that had possessed their employer. On her way to the front door, she stopped at a curio cabinet, opened a drawer, and withdrew a number of coins from petty cash. The servants were all still standing in the same place as she flew with quick, sprightly steps towards the foyer, and hardly blinked when she nearly collided with Heero, who was coming out of the parlour carrying her near-empty breakfast tray. They simultaneously moved left, then right, then left again trying to get out of each other's way, following which Relena actually shoved him aside and continued on to the hat rack.

Heero spun around and steadied the tray, and for a moment, the clinking of the unbalanced teacup was the only sound. "Is...everything alright, m'lady?" he asked, approaching slowly and carefully.

"I have to go to the newsstand and buy one of everything," she answered hurriedly, tying on a light straw hat with a pretty blue ribbon. "I just found out now that America was at war with the Philippines! Did you _know_ about this?"

Heero blinked. "Actually, I need to speak to you abou--"

"Of course, it's all _over_ now, I missed it! Heaven knows how long that's been going on, and if I missed that much, what else don't I know about? It's infuriating!" She tugged on her gloves with almost lethal force.

"...yes. What I'm trying to--"

"How could I have gone through life for so long and not know a thing about current events!? The whole southern hemisphere could've collapsed into the sea and I'd never have known about it!" As a final touch, she tied her hair back at the base of her neck and straightened her dress in a nearby mirror.

"About the reading of the wil--"

"I'm sorry, Heero, I'd love to chat, but I have to go." Lastly, she snatched a gingersnap off the tray he carried and bit off a chunk, mumbling around the crumbs. "Russia is giving Manchuria back to China, did you know that?" With a wide-eyed shrug, she twirled around and dashed out the door, not even closing it properly on the way out. The ticking of the grandfather clock only yards away filled up the space where the servant's collective backbone had been, before getting trampled.

Heero couldn't help feeling a bit queasy. _I really didn't  know that._

Trowa slunk up beside him, and assisted him in staring at the half-open door. "...who's Fred Tate?"

Thrown terribly off-balance by the realization that Relena was gradually catching up to him in international news, Heero felt queasier. He dumped the silver tray into Trowa's hands and rubbed his eyes. "I'm going to go lie down for awhile."

Eventually, they all shuffled off into their own little corners, more stunned than anything else. Still listening astutely from the closet, Yasmeen smirked. When all seemed quiet, she crept back to the stairs and padded down to the kitchen, intending to play it safe by shooting out the back door instead of the front. Her mind was swimming with thoughts that she just had to get down on paper, so she ducked into the pantry and crouched next to a crate of homemade strawberry preserves, digging the journal out of her dress yet again.

_"9:08 am. I think I have just seen the queen bee, and she rules her hive with an iron fist. Her power is impressive for one so young. I can't understand why Quatre's friends called her 'flighty' and 'childish'...she seems alright to me. I'm sure under different circumstances that she and I could get along very well. As for her subordinates, they could all use some extra discipline and treat her with a little more respect. If she's really as bright and involved as she sounds, she deserves at least that much."_

Yasmeen's train of thought was broken by the back door opening. The kitchen had been vacant up until then, so her guard was slightly lowered, and the noise made her jump. She squished herself up into a ball around the corner and watched what came through the door--and it was a strange sight indeed.

Quatre came through and charged down the short concrete steps first, followed by a dark-haired maid, a young Chinaman in white clothes with a shoddily bandaged and red-streaked right hand, being supported by the maid, and a policeman. The girl seemed to be helping the foreign boy stagger over to a kitchen chair, while Quatre wrung his hands in worry and the policeman folded his arms and watched sternly. At no time could Yasmeen clearly see the girl's face, due to a bad viewing angle that only got worse as moments ticked by.

"Now, I have your _solemn word_ that you'll inform your employer about this?" the tall, stern officer of the law said to Quatre.

"Yes, sir, of course we will," Quatre said nervously. "It's just so much easier to bring him in through the back, where the kitchen sink is, and...everything..."

"Mm-hm," the officer hummed, partially convinced. The odds were better that when he and his constables arrived at the address printed on a slip of paper in the half-drunk Chinaman's pocket expecting to drop him off to his employer via the front door, the gardener panicked and asked them to bring him in through the back door because something underhanded was going on that he didn't want his employer to know about, which could have turned out to be a juicy case. On the other hand, it was a minor first-time offence, and it was hardly worth the man's time getting embroiled in family controversy for something that would really only merit a strongly-worded caution. The policeman walked up to the chair in which the foreigner feebly sat and raised his voice. "Can you hear me, young man?"

"Mmph," the boy in white muttered.

"The owner of the pub has agreed not to press charges, since no serious damage was done, but he doesn't want to see you in his establishment ever again. And I expect you to stay on your best behaviour, or next time I'll be taking you to the station house instead, do you understand?"

The humbled miscreant propped his head up on the table with his bad hand and appeared to sway back and forth slightly.

"We'll explain it to him," the dark-haired maid said with an innocent smile.

"Yes, well...see that you do," said the officer. "I'll see myself out." Casting a navy blue shadow all the way to the door, he vanished out the back and went to reassemble his men. Quatre and the maid looked their young visitor over and whispered back and forth about what to do next.

"How much do you think he's had to drink?"

"Dunno...I can't really smell it."

"I thought he was getting along fine here. Why did he leave?"

"And if he didn't want to be here anyway, why come back?"

"Maybe something dangerous was going on and he was worried for us."

"I wonder if he can hear us at all."

An executive decision was needed here, and Quatre didn't feel he was executive enough. "We'd better tell Heero right away."

"That'll be the _last_ thing you do!" the boy shouted, springing to life when it mattered most.

Quatre folded his arms triumphantly. "So you _are_ listening. What were you doing, getting drunk and punching a brick wall? You could have been arrested and gotten hauled off to jail for disorderly conduct! What would've happened to you then?"

The boy in white stared at the tabletop, specifically at a blop of marmalade that breakfast had left behind. "Does it matter?"

"Of course it matters!" the maid exclaimed. "We would've gone straight down to the police station and bailed you out, wouldn't we?"

Quatre nodded. "You didn't have to disappear like that, Wufei."

The one he called 'Wufei' snarled and clenched his damaged fist, banging it on the table just once. It made his opponents jump away in fright. "You don't know _anything_ about what I _have_ to do, for you or anyone else!" After that nasty little outburst, he calmed down and cradled his right hand with his left, and wouldn't look anyone in the eye. "As soon as my head clears, I'm _gone_. _Out_ of here. _Permanently_."

There was complete silence as Quatre crossed one ankle in front of the other and leaned one arm on the back of another chair, with his hand on his hip, and Yasmeen fully expected to hear one of her brother's selfless speeches about sticking together, but what actually came out, after a prolonged exhalation through his nose, was a surprise.

"Well, fine. I'm tired of going out of my way to help people and getting kicked in the head for my trouble. I've used up all my caring and understanding for the next six months, and I do not have the _strength_ to work through whatever neuroses you've decided to inflict on yourself. You do what _you_ want to do. I've got rose bushes that need pruning." No one was more shocked than Yasmeen as he walked away from the kitchen table and out the door. For the first time, it was blindingly clear what sort of strain he'd been under the last few weeks.

With the gardener's departure, the petite housemaid was left alone with the foul-tempered foreigner, but she didn't look like she was about to flee for her life. Instead, she settled comfortably into her chair and laced her fingers together on the tabletop. "So.....who came along and dropped a porcupine in _your_ pouch?"

"You wouldn't understand," Wufei scoffed snidely.

"Well, how are you ever gonna find out if you don't take a risk and tell me?" the maid asked. "I just might surprise you."

Wufei snorted and turned away. "Leave me in peace, woman."

She surprised him by giving him a sharp smack upside the head, grabbing him by the ear, and dragging him over to the sink. Before he could react, she whipped off the rag wrapped around his hand, turned the cold tap on full blast, and jammed his hand underneath it, still keeping a firm grip on his ear and tugging sharply if he dared protest. She didn't let go until the deep scrapes on Wufei's knuckles had been blasted clean, and even then she wouldn't relinquish control without one more good shove to the side of his head. He was then marched back to his seat and forced back down into it, and his injured hand was pulled up above his head. "Don't move that," the maid instructed curtly.

Wufei actually feared what would happen to him if he disobeyed. There was a formidable spirit contained in the girl's small frame, and it reminded him so much of his lost love, Meiran, that he found himself craning his neck around the raised arm to watch her as she walked towards the pantry.

"You know, you don't make it very easy to be nice to you," the maid said, twisting around and backing up the rest of the way to the pantry door. Again, Yasmeen panicked, realizing that she was about to be discovered, and had been too enthralled with the scene to retreat in time. As she scrunched up even further away from the door, sandwiched between the shelves, the girl dipped an arm into the pantry and felt around for something while keeping both eyes on Wufei. "I should think a loner like you would be grateful of someone taking an interest in your well-being. At the very _least_, it wouldn't kill you to be polite..."

Yasmeen looked up and saw the maid's hand struggling to find something. Her slim fingers kept missing one object in particular, a small Cadbury's cookie tin, and if she didn't reach her target soon, she might very well have turned to look, which would have been disastrous. Holding her breath and hedging her bets, Yasmeen reached up and gingerly shoved the tin an inch closer to the searching hand. Once the maid felt the object in question, she smiled and grabbed it, pulling the lid off as she walked back to her patient. "Now why don't you tell me what's bugging you?"

She sat down next to Wufei, yanked his arm back down, pulled a roll of gauze from the tin and began carefully re-wrapping his hand with a touch more gentle than the brush of a dove's wing. Wufei swallowed. "It's just...I've wasted my life so far, chasing after the illusion of revenge...it's cost me everything."

"I thought you and Heero worked for the same setup."

That caught Wufei off-guard until he remembered that this girl was included in what could be called the household's inner circle, and had been for quite some time. He shrugged. "It really _is_ a setup. They let me think I was invaluable, and then they used me. Now...I don't know what to do." He also didn't know why he was opening up so easily; the girl was having a peculiar effect on him, one that he didn't have the mental resources to analyse.

The dark-haired maid thought about the problem, even with such minimal information, and tied off the gauze around Wufei's hand before pressing him further. "Why don't you go home and think it over? Sometimes just taking a vacation can give you fantastic perspective."

Wufei studied her handiwork and, to his continued amazement, found it to be absolutely flawless. "I don't have a home to go to anymore. Years ago, I got into a huge fight with my father, and I ran away. That's what got me into this mess." He slumped pitifully forward, staring at the patch of marmalade again as if it held the answers to all of life's mysteries. "I can't go back...I can't go forward.....it wasn't perfect, but I used to have a place in the grand order of things, and now I have nothing."

"Okay...so...why don't you just stay here with us? Nobody has to know you're here, and if you get really stuck for ideas, I'm sure Heero can think of som--"

At the mention of the rival agent's name, Wufei balled both fists and growled like a very angry bear. "I don't want him to hear a word of this! I don't want anything to do with him, _ever_!!"

That piqued Yasmeen's curiosity greatly. She thought Heero was loyal, intelligent, and very fair, and had never heard anyone say a word against him. She would have scooted a little closer to the pantry doorway to listen more closely, but at that precise moment, she felt something touch her foot and immediately changed her plans. Her eyes widened.

"What's wrong with him?" the girl asked. "He's always been there to help whenever any of us needed him, he's smart, he's kind, he's--"

"I know, I know! He's Mr. Wonderful, alright!?"

Yasmeen looked to her left, where both of her feet were tucked off to the side, and saw two small, glossy turquoise eyes staring back at her. It was the little gray house cat, with one paw resting on her shoe. Yasmeen couldn't help it, but she cringed. She and her sisters had been formally introduced to the animal several weeks ago; the other girls all took turns petting it and cuddling it and showering it with affection, but Yasmeen kept her distance, because she was allergic. Now the cat was moving in for a closer inspection of what it had missed at that early meeting.

"What kind of attitude is that?"

"You don't understand, he..." Wufei paused and swallowed to keep from choking on his wrath. "For years, all I've ever heard is how talented Heero is, and how efficient and obedient he is, and what a brilliant addition to the organization he's made, _over_ and _over_ and _over_...and because of that, I've been killing myself trying to match the standards he set. Every chance I got, I tried to batter down his ego and just when I thought I might be rewarded for my loyalty with the gift of his mission, I found out I matter less to my superiors than the furniture they sat their fat backsides on while I endangered myself to serve their interests!"

Whiskers twitching, Shadow climbed all the way up Yasmeen's leg and perched elegantly on her thigh. Yasmeen could feel tiny beads of sweat forming under the collar of her dress.

"So you gotta swallow your pride once in awhile. So what? When you've spent half your winters in a train station hawkin' red carnations for businessmen to wear in their buttonholes for just enough money to barely avoid starvation for another twenty-four hours, _then_ you can talk to me about lowering your standards!"

The girl's impassioned speech brushed only slightly against Yasmeen's ears, for she had bigger problems. Shadow had moved up to the crook of her arm and stretched out to place both paws on the upper part of her chest, just below the hollow of her throat. The cat blinked curiously and put her face right up to Yasmeen's, sniffing. Now Yasmeen's nose was beginning to twitch.

Wufei shook his head with a bitter half-grin. "You women see things so simply."

"And you men overcomplicate everything so you can look like big shots when you finally solve your problems," the maid said with a bit of smug sarcasm, "which, I might add, is frequently accomplished through utilizing a suggestion made by a woman."

Yasmeen felt a sneeze coming on. Shadow continued to sniff around her face, and an avalanche of ticklish pressure was building up in her sinuses. On top of that, her eyes were watering, her throat was coated in kitty tuna breath, and her legs were falling asleep from the knees down. She was so close to cracking that she could have screamed.

"I don't know if I can let go of everything so easily," Wufei admitted, barely above a whisper.

The maid smiled and patted his arm. "Don''t worry about it. Just figure out what you're going to do today, tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and don't even think past that until you're settled. That's how I get through rough patches. You can't stop and think seriously about the big things until you've got a routine that takes care of the little things."

A strange aura of peace washed over Wufei, and he didn't even realize he was smiling. "Thank you.....uh..." Unfortunately, the kind girl's name escaped him.

"Hilde," she said.

"Hilde."

They said nothing for almost a minute, a spine-tingling, brain-spinning minute that left them mute with mutual curiosity. Finally, Hilde felt a little surge of warmth touching her cheeks and stood up, breaking the silence with the scrape of a wooden chair across the tile floor. "Well! ...what say we get you out back to see Arthur? Y'know, he's kinda missed having you around...like yet another grandson he never had."

Wufei's eyebrows reflected his surprise that anyone would miss him at all. He rose from his own chair and exhaled deeply. "Agreed." They walked across the kitchen, up the half-flight of steps, and out into the backyard. Shortly after they were gone, the back door swung closed with a clunk.

"................_--CHOO!!_"

Yasmeen sneezed. Shadow went 'Rowr!' and jumped off her, scooting out to the kitchen and disappearing up the stairs. Pondering the total lack of progress that she had made that morning, she took out her journal and crystallized her feelings into a single, succinct entry.

_"9:26 am. I hope I get my sisters sorted out after today, because I am never doing this again."_

Too tired and frustrated to care how safe it was to move, she stumbled up on her wobbly legs and fought the severe sensation of pins and needles all the way to the back door, where she slipped out, unnoticed.

**********  
  


There was no smooth sailing for Duo and Heero at the Muddy Nag. When they stopped in for an after-dinner lemonade and strategy session, they found the building in a discombobulated mess, with bricks and bits of wood lying around and workmen shuffling to and fro with their ripped blue coveralls and their sagging toolbelts. Apart from that, half the dining room was missing, covered by a curtain of gray and paint-splattered tarpaulins that separated the pub into 'the good half' and 'the moderately questionable half.' Heero tried asking Catherine what was going on, but she evaded the question with a coy smile and muttered something about minor renovations. There was more to it than that, Heero was certain.

Nevertheless, they didn't go there to pry into Catherine's affairs. They sat in their usual booth, fortunately in the untouched portion of the room, and conducted their meeting with a glass of lemonade each, accompanied in the background by a chorus of hammers and saws. "We have nine days," Heero began.

"Until what?"

"The reading of Lord Peacecraft's will. Ten o'clock on the thirty-first, Marlowe's office. I know Treize must have a plan in place by now, but I'm not sure what to do about it."

Duo sipped, then added another teaspoon of sugar from the covered sugar bowl. "Are we invited?"

"You, definitely not. Me..." Heero sipped, and wished he could have taken about the same amount of sugar out. "That's what I've been trying to arrange with Relena all day, but she doesn't seem to have five minutes for anyone anymore."

"Yeah, isn't that weird? Something's gotten into her lately, everyone else's noticed too."

Heero thought quietly, watching Duo fold a bar napkin into an accordion shape and fashion it into a fan with which to fan himself. "She's changed..."

The conversation wandered in other directions after that, and they stayed until the sky turned streaky and purple. Catherine clammed up even more after the workmen left, so they didn't get any clues as to why the pub was being deconstructed on one side. The pair left peacefully, but they had only gotten a few yards away from the door when Duo paused and stared at something across the street. Heero stopped also and tried to follow his gaze.

It was normal evening traffic as far as Heero could see, but Duo quickly pointed out something on the curb, a lady in a long black dress. She was sitting right on the curb looking very tired and travel-worn, with half of her hair spilling out of a sloppy bun and fanning herself with a black straw hat. "Doesn't she look familiar to you?" Duo asked.

Heero wasn't sure, so they crossed the street to get a better look at her. It took a moment for the face to register out of its usual context, but when one blocked out the hair and the dress, a poorly-exercised memory was excavated. "...Yasmeen..."

"Yeah, that's her!" Duo walked right up to the woman and sat down on the curb next to her. "Hey..." he greeted cautiously.

The woman in black looked up, and was startled to realize that she knew the face of her young visitor. She clutched timidly at the neckline of her gown. "You...you recognized me? In this?"

Duo lifted his head proudly. "I _never_ forget the face of someone who compliments my Key Lime Pie."

Yasmeen smiled tiredly. "It's good to see some friendly faces...after the day I've had."

"Don't take this the wrong way," Duo said after looking up and exchanging a glance with Heero, "but what are you doing out of your cave?"

"Is something wrong?" Heero added, still choosing not to ruin his own slacks by joining them on the curb.

Yasmeen sighed and leaned both forearms on her knees, letting her hands and her hat dangle. "You have been very kind to us...and we will be eternally grateful...but we cannot stay in that house." Duo looked disappointed, but when she looked up at Heero, she saw that he understood. "I've been searching everywhere for a new place to hide, but my failure makes me wonder if we shouldn't just pack up and go home...and pray for good fortune when we see the rest of our siblings."

"You're not serious, are you?" Duo whined. "There must be _somewhere_ else in the city you can go, rather than go back! Quat would never forgive himself if anything happened to you gals!"

"Let us help you look," Heero offered. "With more of us searching, we can cover a larger--"

"No, please!" Yasmeen begged, putting up her hands. "You both have very important tasks to complete, and my family worries mustn't get in your way. Besides...this is something I need to do myself. I took responsibility for my younger sisters when I brought them here, and it's my job to make sure they're safe."

Heero frowned helplessly. "At least let us give you a ride home. It's a long walk."

Yasmeen slowly shook her head. "Thank you, but I'm not ready to go back yet. You two take care of yourselves. I'll be along eventually."

Duo crinkled his eyebrows sadly. "If you're sure..." She nodded, and he stood obediently. They said their goodbyes, and the boys took a hansom cab down the street and out of sight.

With a deep sigh, Yasmeen pushed hard on her knees until she was standing reasonably straight, and had a good look around. _The day's not over yet. Opportunity could still be waiting to leap out at me._ While her mind was a little clearer, she became more aware of her surroundings, and searched yet again for some dark corner to adopt as a new hiding place. A vacant building would have been ideal, which is why the apparently empty shop across the street caught her eye.

It was part of a long string of conjoined buildings, the nearest of which was some sort of eating establishment that looked very busy. Yasmeen walked up to the vacant shop and peeked in the window through a hole in the butcher's paper covering the inside. She saw a young redheaded woman walking around inside and became very disappointed, thinking that perhaps it wasn't vacant after all.

Yasmeen leaned back and pondered. A door opened to her right moments later, and to her surprise, the same redheaded woman stepped out of the restaurant with a small stepladder. She set it down, climbed up on it, and used a long tapered match to light the old gas lamps that still hung around the public house door. Now the wheels in Yasmeen's head began turning at a fantastic pace.

When the redheaded woman went back inside, Yasmeen followed. Inside the pub, she looked around carefully and got the overall impression of a very relaxed, very genial atmosphere, with some terribly interesting details. It wasn't long, though, before the redheaded woman spotted her looking unattached to a table and came to her assistance. "Good evening, madam, may I show you tonight's menu?"

After a small pause during which she sized the woman up for signs of a deceitful nature, Yasmeen smiled. "Yes, thank you."

The woman showed her to a table, introduced herself as Catherine, the proprietress, and ran down a list of the evening's specials. Catherine then noticed that her new customer was dressed all in black. "Gee, who died?"

Yasmeen looked blank and confused, then looked down at herself, then up again. "Oh, no no! This was...the only thing I had that was clean this morning."

"Boy, I know what _that's_ like," Catherine laughed. "I'm not very domestic either. Now, what can I get you?"

"Um..." The minuscule amount of money she had borrowed from Quatre to buy food was all gone. "Perhaps a glass of water while I decide?"

"Sure!" Catherine skipped away, and Yasmeen swithced into hyper-active analytical mode. She told herself that she was sitting in a combination alcoholic tavern and casual restaurant, with stairs leading up to the second level and a sign advertising rooms for rent. At the moment, the 'No Vacancy' sign was up as well, but she was much more interested in the portion of the building that lay behind the tarpaulins. Catherine returned diligently with a glass of fresh water. "Here you go."

"Thank you," Yasmeen said. "Please, sit down! You look as though you've been working very hard today!"

Catherine smiled. "Well, yes, it's been a little hectic with the workmen and such." Seeing no other customers in dire need of prompt service, she availed herself of the opposite chair.

Yasmeen sipped her water and composed her thoughts. "They appear to have been very busy. I hope your business wasn't damaged by fire or flood recently..."

"Nah, just a little project I'm working on," Catherine said with a grin. "Some minor improvements and modifications...really top-secret stuff."

"Really?" Yasmeen's eyes brightened in artificially-enhanced interest. "I'm absoutely _fascinated_ by construction and renovation, would you mind letting me have a look?"

Catherine didn't know why, but the tanned woman was quite the charmer, and she found herself unable to resist. "...sure, why not? Follow me!" They got up and crossed the room to no man's land, and Catherine held aside the tarpaulin so they could both nip through. The wall between the pub and the vacant shop had been knocked down, and steel support beams had been strategically placed to keep the ceiling from caving in while the men worked. "The fabric outlet next door closed and moved up west, and since my sales have been through the roof lately, I decided to buy it and expand my business! I'm adding a whole new dining area with some private rooms for meetings and parties, and there's a complete second floor upstairs that I'm going to turn into more rooms for rent, sort of like a mini hotel! I've been dying to tell someone about my epic vision, but I wanted to keep it a secret from my regular customers so I could have a grand re-opening sometime next month! What do you think?"

Yasmeen could tell Catherine was the sort of person who craved attention and loved having her ideas praised, so she indulged her greatly. "I think that's a magnificent plan! And what an enterprising spirit you have!"

Catherine blushed. "Aww..."

"And what planning this must have taken! I'll bet when it's finished your clientele will quadruple overnight! You'll be rushed off your feet!"

"Heh...uh, yeah..."

"I admire your work ethic greatly. Not every young woman would commit herself to serving the needs of close to a hundred people at once, fetching whatever they desired at your best speed, never letting your smile fade no matter how badly your feet hurt!"

".......uh huh."

"I wouldn't be surprised if all the extra work sends you to an early grave, but at least you will have died an honourable death, serving the needs of your community. You are to be commended!"

"............oh my God."

For some odd reason, Catherine looked absolutely petrified now. Yasmeen smirked, but only on the inside. "Whatever's the matter?"

"I...I never stopped to calculate how much extra work it'd be _maintaining_ the extra space once it was built! Holy smokes, I can't handle it all by myself! What was I thinking!? What possessed me to figure I could do this!?"

Yasmeen patted her shoulder comfortingly. "There, there, if you can't do it alone, you'll just have to find someone to help you, that's all. You need more people around you. More serving staff."

"More serving staff," Catherine repeated numbly. "You mean waitresses? Wow...this place has always been small enough that I could do everything myself, even at peak hours. I don't even know what it would cost to hire people...it could eat up all my profits after I renovate the fabric shop, and then I'll be in debt! Oh no! What have I gotten myself into!?"

"Hush, dear," Yasmeen said, putting an arm around the distraught girl and steering her back towards the functional part of the pub. "I know a bit about business expenses, maybe I can help you. It seems to me that you need five, maybe six extra helpers to cook the food, wait on tables, clean the rooms upstairs...let's go to your office and have a chat. I may be able to help you." They disappeared behind the bar and nobody heard from them for a long time.

**********  
  


Yasmeen didn't get back to the house until very late, but at least it was under the cover of darkness so she didn't have to creep around as much. The black silk dress she had borrowed from the attic had taken quite a beating, and she felt badly about that. Since morning, she had decided that the dress must once have belonged to a member of the family that was no longer in the house. Quatre had once told her that Relena didn't have a mother, so it logically must have been her dress. Yasmeen vowed that she would clean it, repair it, and apologize to it until her conscience was settled over stealing from the departed.

When she made it to the back door of the house, she saw that all the kitchen lights were on, and that there was some sort of meeting taking place. She knelt carefully by one of the sunken windows to have a look. All the boys were standing in a clump next to the kitchen table, including Wufei, who spent a great deal of his time looking at the floor. Hilde the housemaid was also there, and kept smiling and prodding Wufei in the arm every few seconds. The Chinese boy addressed the others, especially Heero, whose back was turned to the window, but Yasmeen couldn't make out a word he was saying.

After Wufei had finished his short speech, discussion floated around the circle like berries in a bowl of water, complete with conversational hand gestures and shrugs. Finally, Heero spread both hands out in front of him and said something which made Wufei quite surprised. It was a long, drawn-out explanation that kept everyone engrossed, and that ended with Heero extending a hand to Wufei. With a slow smile, Wufei grasped the hand and shook it, cementing their apparent peace accord. Yasmeen sat back against the brick facade of the house and smiled to herself. Things were finally looking up, and everyone's hard work was paying off at last. Haggard and disheveled, she took out her journal and made one last entry to finish off the day's events.

_"10:41 pm. I think we're going to be alright."_

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


_Next, in Episode Fifty-Five: Lord Peacecraft's last will and testament is unsealed and read in front of many witnesses in the offices of Mr. Marlowe, and not one of them know what it has contained all this time. Duo discovers mail-order catalogs. =o_O=_

...mail-order catalogs. Yeah. =^-^= Anywho, hiya! Quite a departure from the usual style of episodes, but I hope you enjoyed it! As stated by two of our cast members, the next memorable event will be on July 31st, so I'll see you then! =D Ja ne!


	55. Changing of the Guard

**Disclaimer:** My current defence against any corporate lawyers who might decide to beat down my door and present a "cease and desist" order from BanDai is that I've been working on this for a WHOLE YEAR now, and if they even **tried** to shut me down, they'd have hordes of angry fans swarming all over them and plucking out each and every one of their body hairs, one by one by one. Right guys? *looks expectantly at her readers* ... *crickets chirp* ... =o_o;= *gulp* Uh...right? =D

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Fifty-Five: Changing of the Guard

_"Impossible is a word only to be found in the dictionary of fools." ~Napoleon _

July 31st, 1902

Over the last several days, an unusual trend was developing regarding the morning mail. The amount of it coming in through the front door had just about tripled, and the excess was all addressed to Duo. The chef was highly secretive about the unwavering stream of thin packages wrapped in brown paper, and always squirrelled them away in the bedroom where he could browse through it all in between mealtimes. That morning, Heero finally got a good look at the pile of paperwork, spread out all over the writing desk, as he changed into his best suit for the reading of Lord Peacecraft's will. As he tied a fresh stiff white collar around his neck, he glanced over Duo's shoulder, who sat shuffling through papers and gnawing on the end of his pencil.

"Are you going to let me in on the big secret?" Heero asked.

"Take a number," Duo said, flipping open one of many slim books and perusing page after page of black and white drawings.

Heero squinted at the pages and failed to properly identify them. "What are those?"

"Catalogues!"

It sounded like a happy word, but Heero couldn't see what was so wonderful about it. He walked over to the bed, scooped up his waistcoat, and slipped it over his shirt. "What are they for?"

"Lots of things!" Duo twisted around in the wooden chair, waggling the pencil around between his thumb and forefinger. "Do you know how much time I spend every day shopping for ingredients? Too much! All I ever see is the farmer's market, the fishmonger's, the butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker, et cetera, et cetera...and if I ever want anything for myself, there's no chance to even look for it, see?"

Heero buttoned his last button and shrugged in a noncommittal sort of way. "I suppose."

"Well, a lot of other people have the same problem, as it happens. They either haven't got time to shop, or they're housebound and can't get out at all. So they invented mail-order! Anything I could possibly want, I can have delivered right to the front door! It's like a fairy-tale kingdom!"

Mildly intrigued, Heero walked back over to the writing desk after picking up a red satin Ascot tie and slinging it around his neck. There was an impressive array of catalogues in front of Duo, many from fancy shops all over London, making him wonder if the chef wasn't overestimating his net worth. Then Heero noticed that several more were from outside England, even outside Europe. A slew of American addresses jumped off their printed pages, and as if disbelieving what he saw, Heero picked up one book at random and inspected it more closely--the Sears-Roebuck catalogue. "How did you get these?"

Duo smirked. "You have your contacts, I have mine."

"You're ordering things from the United States? How do you even know they'll _deliver_ to other countries?"

"Oh, you'd be surprised how nice people treat you when you tell them you're an orphaned foreign national that's been repeatedly abused by the legal system."

"Isn't that a _slight_ exaggeration?"

"It's as much true as it's untrue, but I don't make those decisions," Duo said defensively. "I haven't lied to anybody, I mighta just...left out a few details. If anyone wants to infer something slightly askew from the truth, that's their problem." To illustrate, he handed over a personal letter from the head of one of the American companies who had offered him a catalogue, praising him for upholding the spirit of democracy and such-and-such. Heero sighed.

Outside, the weather mirrored his sentiment as it started to rain a little harder. The higher echelons of the family were gathering downstairs to head out to Marlowe's office, and it had been drizzling since before dawn, casting a grim pallor over an already dismal occasion. "Want me to order you an umbrella?" Duo asked, reading his mind to a small degree. "It's only six to eight weeks delivery!"

Heero smiled and shook his head involuntarily, donning his pure black jacket and choosing a pair of plain cufflinks from the basket on the dresser. "We'll all be back for lunch, most likely."

"Sure thing," Duo acknowledged, stuffing some paperwork into an envelope. "What do you think's gonna happen if Relena loses the house?"

Heero was silent for a bit. "Don't know."

"Think we'll have to move?"

"Depends."

Before the mood in the room could get any more grim, Duo bounced out of his chair and showed Heero a nice crisp page in one of the local catalogues. "Well, I've got us covered if we do. See this? A brand new set of matching luggage, this month only, ten percent off."

Heero smirked again, taking the book and flopping down on the bed with it. "What if you order this, and we don't have to move after all?"

"Ah. See, I've got that covered too." Duo turned around and took two envelopes off the desk, then showed them to Heero. "There's two order forms right there. I'll only send one of them in, depending on what happens with the will. If we have to go, we get matching luggage. If we get to stay...then...I get a little unbirthday present to myself." He smiled at his own ingenuity.

Heero looked at both envelopes, one marked 'M.L.' for 'matching luggage,' and one marked 'B.P.' for 'birthday present.' It was a sorely needed reminder for Heero that the temporary birth date he had chosen for Duo was fast approaching. "Let's not make any plans until we know whether we have a home or not."

"Enough of that doomsday talk," Duo said, picking up another catalogue and flopping on the bed next to Heero. "Take a good look at all this! There's a world of opportunity out there, and it all comes with a money-back guarantee! Who needs security when you've got dreams like this?" They lolled around and laughed for a long time, long enough that the rest of the family left without Heero, though they didn't even know he was inviting himself along. Just then, finding out the fate of their home wasn't as fun as looking at all the pretty pictures and fantasizing about all the wonderful things they could treat themselves to if they were as rich as Relena, or as powerful as Treize.

**********  
  


Though Heero would have been the last one to complain, frittering away those additional few minutes with Duo had made him slightly late getting to the offices of Mr. Marlowe's law firm, and he could hear the proceedings already in motion as he approached the door to the second-floor reception room.

"...'being of sound and disposing mind and memory, and not being actuated by any duress, menace, fraud, mistake, or undue influence'..."

Marlowe's voice droned pleasantly enough, but it was laced with an underlying tone of restless anxiety, and only Heero knew why. The butler quietly swung the door inwards, and one or two people near the back of the room turned their heads to look at the slightly soaked young man coming in out of the rain, but that was all the attention he got. It was a room at least three times the size of Marlowe's formal office, set up with two columns of chairs three chairs wide, about half of them full. The door was centred between the columns, and in front of the opposite wall was Marlowe himself, seated behind a large oak desk, surrounded by piles of paper and reading from a freshly-unsealed document. Without causing any interruption, Heero shut the door and took a seat in the last row.

"...'do make, publish, and declare this to be my last Will, hereby expressly revoking all Wills and Codicils previously made by me.'"

Heero noticed that Relena, Dorothy, and Quatre were all sitting together in the first row on the left hand side facing the desk, and each youngster on either side of the potential heiress grasped a different hand for moral support, which Relena squeezed tightly in nervous anticipation. Treize and Otto sat in the front row on the right hand side, and though Heero couldn't see it, he was sure there was a smug smile ready to pounce on the Count's features at the soonest opportunity. Treize knew something about the will that almost no other living person did, that much had been clear to Heero since he read the correspondence between the half-brothers a year ago. The Count's confidence was most unnerving.

Hoping his own case of nerves was coming across as a simple dry throat, Marlowe took a sip of water before resuming. "'I direct my Executor, hereinafter named as Robert Marlowe, to proceed with the execution of this document only in the presence of my son, Milliardo, failing which, the Executor may only proceed after receiving proof of his death.'"

Relena's gaze shifted down a few inches as Marlowe produced the infamous death certificate and held it up to the persons in attendance. "Sufficient documentation to that effect has been received from His Majesty's armed forces, and this office is satisfied that the requirement of proof has been met." In all honestly, he wasn't personally satisfied, especially in light of his past conversations with the young butler and chef, but legally, his hands were tied. "'If any beneficiary of this Will, including any beneficiary of any trust established in this Will, shall die within sixty days of my death or prior to the distribution of my estate, I hereby declare that I shall be deemed to have survived such person'..."

While Marlowe continued speaking in legalese, Heero glanced around the room at the other possible beneficiaries. They were mostly middle-aged and above, all upper class, and generally didn't look as if they needed any further augmentation to their wealth. There were also two military men in bright red uniforms with gold braiding, both balding and with nearly identical waxy moustaches. A few people Heero recognized from the neighbourhood, but the rest drew definite blanks.

"...'shall be authorized to carry out all provisions of this Will and pay my just debts, obligations and funeral expenses. I further provide my Executor shall not be required to post surety bond in this or any other jurisdiction, and direct that no expert appraisal be made of my estate unless required by law.'" After a long stretch of fiduciary jibber-jabber, Marlowe caught Treize looking at his wristwatch in boredom. As punishment, he deliberately slowed his speech a bit during the next section, which named Otto as Relena's legal guardian until she was either married off, or reached the age of twenty-one, whichever occurred first.

Treize stifled a yawn. Relena saw it, and looked very perplexed. From his vantage point on her left, Quatre also saw it easily, and scowled. Otto didn't look pleased either.

Marlowe gave Treize a piercing glare, and flipped over to the next page. "We now come to the disbursements... 'The following payments shall be made to the institutions named below: To St. Katherine's Hospital, ten guineas per annum...to The Salvation Army, five guineas per annum...to the Home for Deserted Mothers and Infants'..."

Heero had never been to such a ceremony before, and had believed that it would be educational at the very least, but it seemed to take forever. Lord and Lady Peacecraft were patrons of a long, ponderous list of charitable societies, a credit to their civic-mindedness. It made him think about what sort of people they must have been, and what sort of people deserved to benefit from their good fortune. It made him think about what the costs would be if Treize got his hands on the estate, for even if the charitable gifts were guaranteed by law, Treize would almost certainly refuse to recognize that law, and every last penny would surely disappear before Marlowe could distribute the money rightfully. It also made him think, with a note of panic, that he had no plan of action whatsoever to stop it.

"...'to be paid in a lump sum to the following: To the British and Foreign Anti-Slavery Society, twenty-five pounds...to St. Monica's Home for Children, thirty pounds...to the London Philanthropic Society, fifty pounds'..."

Heero then wondered exactly what he was doing there at all. _There's no solid evidence that Treize will collect anything, let alone the entire estate. Even if he attempts to take the house by force, the authorities wouldn't stand for it, and a handful of his foreign thugs wouldn't do him any good. And if it's just the gold he's after, there's no telling whether or not it's even listed in the disbursements. He could very well walk away with nothing...but he hasn't doubted himself for one instant._

"...'to the Destitute Sailors Asylum, twenty pounds...to the East-End Juvenile Mission, twenty pounds...to the Nightingale Fund for Training Nurses, twenty-five pounds...to the Covent Garden Theatrical Fund'..."

_What if he does pull off some massive legal trickery right under our noses?_ Heero wondered. _What am I supposed to do, threaten to shoot him in the head if he doesn't scratch his name off the list of beneficiaries? I was never trained to fight legal battles...if anyone could think of a way to stop whatever he's got planned, it would be Marlowe, not me. I could subdue him physically within five seconds of making any threatening moves, but how do I fight words and documents and official seals? How could I help?_

"...'to the Heatherington's Charity to Aged Blind, fifteen pounds...to the Times Crimean Fund, fifteen pounds...to the Westminster Jews' Free School'..."

Heero looked over at Relena, who was as yet unaware of his presence, sitting quietly and patiently without fidgeting, like so many other girls her age would have behaved by then. _She was so trusting of me when she gave me her father's correspondence. So many clues in those letters, so many hints that Treize has known the contents of his will all along, and not one scrap of concrete information to help her now. What if she loses everything? She could never support herself in the real world..._

"...'to the Society for Relief of Poor Pious Clergymen, ten guineas...to the Royal Humane Society, five guineas'..."

_We'd all be out in the street,_ Heero admitted to himself. _The younger ones could probably find positions in other homes, but Doris and Arthur would have a terrible time finding work at their age. From what I've heard lately, we'd all be hard-pressed to find another household as lenient as the one we've got. That money from Lord Jeffrhyss was supposed to fund emergency escapes, but maybe we should make it available to everyone...it should stretch until they can all get back on their feet...Relena would have to learn some sort of useful trade, unless Marcus could be seriously persuaded to get married at his age..._

"...'to the Female Missionaries to the Fallen Women of London, ten pounds'..."

_Strange...when did she become my mission?_

"...'and lastly, to the Middlesex Society for the Reformation of Discharged Criminals, five pounds.'"

Heero smirked. If he could have had his way, all Treize would have gotten would be that last five pounds, after serving a murder sentence.

The charitable disbursements were concluded, and the personal gifts began. A watercolour painting went to a couple who lived next door, some sporting equipment went to an old friend from His Lordship's bowls club, and various other trinkets, knick-knacks and tokens of affection were bequeathed to nearly everyone in the room. Relena couldn't pay proper attention to that particular segment, for she was still mulling over the long dissertation on her father's generosity.

_I never knew he was so involved, so socially responsible...but I should have known, since I recognize almost every one of those names. I remember...he would take out the big book of accounts two weeks before Christmas every year, and write cheques for a whole hour. I was too young to understand...and now it's far too late to tell him how...how proud I should have..._

Relena lowered her head and squeezed her eyes shut; she was fiercely determined not to cry, but it was difficult, especially after realizing that she never appreciated her father for the benevolent gentleman he was.

Mr. Marlowe needed another sip of water for what was to come next, the fate of Bridlewood Manor itself. This was the meat and potatoes that everyone secretly wondered if they'd get a bite of. "Now we come to the final disbursement," he announced solemnly, "that of the remainder of Lord Peacecraft's estate, which includes the primary residence of Bridlewood Manor, its lands, goods, and personal effects, and the secondary residence of Sutherby House, its lands, goods, and pers'--"

"If I might interject," Treize interrupted, "this includes everything physically located on said property as of today, does it not?"

Marlowe paused, glaring suspiciously. "...yes...why?"

Treize smiled and leaned back in his chair, waving it off with one hand. "Nothing, nothing, never mind, carry on."

Marlowe repositioned himself in his own chair and cleared his throat. "...'lands, goods, and personal effects. The primary beneficiary is hereby named as Milliardo Peacecraft'...but for obvious reasons, we must proceed to the list of successors as enumerated by His Lordship." He took Milliardo's death certificate from a short stack of papers and set it down in an empty spot on the left-hand side of his desk, then turned over to the next page in the will. A list of names was there, and after reading them quietly to himself, he took a file folder out of the same stack of papers and laid it open for easy access.

What followed was as bizarre a spectacle as anyone in the room had ever seen. One by one, Marlowe gave the name of the next person in line to inherit the estate, someone closely related to the family in one way or another, and for each name, he produced a matching death certificate from the file folder, which he stacked neatly on top of Milliardo's. Morbidly, Heero guessed that Treize had been very busy of late, systematically eliminating his competition. There were gasps and shocked looks all around the room, but no one was more devastated than Relena, for not only had her entire extended family dropped off the face of the Earth, but her own name still had not been mentioned once.

After several minutes of puzzled faces and death certificates, Marlowe ran out of names, and read the next section to himself, folding his hands on the desk. With no warning, he turned to Treize. "Do you, sir, affirm your identity to be Count Treize Khushrenada of Schaffhausen?"

Treize smiled smugly. "I do." Otto, Quatre, and Relena all looked at him very strangely. Dorothy looked straight ahead, and just kept patting Relena's hand with a blank expression.

"Are there others present who can vouch for this gentleman's identity? If so, please indicate with a show of hands."

Following Marlowe's odd instructions, a smattering of people raised their hands, including Dorothy. Otto had never actually seen the man before his London visit, so he abstained from the vote. Relena stared at the side of Treize's head with an intense and incredulous gaze. _What's going on?_

Next, Marlowe turned to Relena. "Do you, miss, affirm your identity to be Relena Peacecraft, second-born and daughter of Lord Peacecraft?"

"Of course!" she said quickly with surprise.

"Are there others present who can vouch for this young lady's identity? If so, please indicate with a show of hands."

Otto raised his hand, looking shell-shocked, along with ninety percent of the room behind the front row of chairs. Most of them could remember her birth quite clearly.

"Thank you," said Marlowe, prompting the sea of hands to drop back down. He lifted up the last page of the will and read aloud from a complicated section. "'If no other beneficiary from the above list can be located, my estate shall be dispensed according to the following conditions: If, at the time of this reading, Count Khushrenada, my maternal half-brother, is proved to be deceased, then the remainder of my estate shall be passed down to Relena in its entirety, regardless of her age.'"

"W-what does _that_ mean?" Relena squeaked. "Why should it matter whether he's--"

"Please, m'lady," Marlowe said with sympathy, "there's more...if you'll allow me to continue. 'However, if Count Khushrenada lives, then the remainder of my estate shall be passed down to him'..."

Startled gasps flooded the room. This was unthinkable.

"...'less the sum of one thousand pounds to be given to Relena. This may only occur under the strict condition that Count Khushrenada may not enter, approach, or reside in England, Scotland, Wales, Northern Ireland, or any colony or territory under rule of the British Empire for the rest of his days, or else forfeit his inheritance.'"

Relena's eyes bulged as the flabbergasted guests behind her grew louder in their mumblings. She squeezed the hands in hers even tighter, and Quatre quickly put an arm around her shivering shoulders.

"'The Count must also refrain from having any contact with Relena at any time or for any reason, whether by written word, telegram, telephone, messenger, third party, or any other means not expressly covered by this condition, or else forfeit his inheritance. Furthermore, if Relena should die or become sufficiently incapacitated as to be unable to manage her own affairs, regardless of her age, and if such incapacitation is judged to be caused by anything other than disease or accident during the course of the Count's natural life, he shall also forfeit his inheritance, and the lands, goods, and personal effects contained in my estate shall be turned over to the Anglican church.'"

The meeting room erupted into angry shouts, but no one was quite certain to whom they should be directed. Several were arguing amongst themselves over what demon could have possessed His Lordship to put such an insane clause into his will. Others were irate that such a large chunk of British property was being gift-wrapped and handed to the foreign devil in the front row. Still others were shaking their fists at Marlowe, ready to shoot the messenger, and he calmly rubbed his eyes with one hand as they hurled their insults at him. Most passionate of all was Relena, who had let go of the hands offered at either side of her and scooted all the way forward to the edge of her chair so she could gesture wildly with open palms, insisting that there had to be some mistake. Otto and Quatre were equally vocal, and surprisingly, the gardener's normally soft voice was the sharpest sound in the room.

Only three guests were silent. Treize, of course, was too busy patting himself on the back, and Dorothy just wanted it to be over with so she could collect her cut of the fortune and get on with other matters. The third quiet one was Heero, who only took a moment to understand exactly what was on Lord Peacecraft's mind. He made a mental note to discuss it with Duo and the others when he got home, while it still _was_ his home.

"Please, everyone, calm yourselves!" Marlowe said forcefully with his hands in the air. "If that's what it says, then there's nothing to be done about it!"

The shouts and grumbles continued until Treize spoke up for the first time since the revelation, employing his most velvety, self-absorbed tone of voice. "Kindly excuse me, sir, but this bequest includes _everything_ that sits within the property line of Bridlewood, both above _and_ below ground?"

Marlowe sighed. He could have sworn the Count had already asked that question. "Yes, as the property is legally described in Schedule C, so that the cellar may be counted as part of the residence."

"Then I would like to confirm the inclusion of approximately one thousand bars of gold that are currently buried in the back garden next to the carpenter's cottage."

The room responded in whispers. None had ever heard of such a quantity of gold being owned by the Peacecraft family, or any other family on their humble little street. Marlowe fiddled with his pen and wondered why he went into law instead of medicine. "Yes...yes, that would be included."

Treize leaned back and looked very pleased with himself.

By now, Relena was so stunned that she could barely draw breath, but Otto was in total control of his faculties, and the same possibility was on both their minds to varying degrees. "You planned this from the beginning...didn't you?"

Treize slowly swivelled his head around to look at Otto and gave him a reptilian smile. "Modesty forbids me, my good man."

"No..." Relena's tiny cry of anguish drew Treize's attention on a reflex. She looked just about ready to cry as her lower lip fluttered around each weak syllable she spoke. "It's not true...tell me this isn't what you really came for..._tell me_..."

The Count paused to brush a piece of lint off the sleeve of his executive blue suit, taking an excess of time to answer. "Nothing personal, darling...it's just business."

That was enough for Otto. With a mighty roar that sounded vaguely like 'You swine!', he grabbed Treize by the lapels, dragged him up out of his chair, turned him around and slammed him down backwards into the top of Marlowe's heavy oak desk, sending a cloud of scattered papers flying into the air and sending Marlowe himself rolling backwards where he and his chair crashed into a bookcase. Dorothy and Relena instinctively scrambled to the same corner and crouched next to him. Quatre grabbed Marlowe's umbrella, held it up with both hands like a fencing foil and stepped in front of the girls to shield them. The rest of the room all jumped to their feet, knocking over many of the clunky wooden chairs, and either backed away from the ruckus or tried to join it. The two military types in particular were foremost in trying to pry Otto off the Count as he shouted threats in his face and practically tried to rip his head off.

The only one who didn't move was Heero. He wasn't sure why he was rather enjoying just sitting there being a spectator, nor was he sure why he was craving a big box of that picture show popcorn. It was a rarity to witness a violent brawl and have the option of simply not participating. Besides, they all looked like they were doing splendidly without him.

There seemed to be no quick and easy end in sight for the riot, nor was it getting any quieter. The noise must have been leaking very readily into the hallway, for someone outside the room, someone who had been looking for a certain room with a certain Mr. Marlowe in it, found the right door with no trouble at all. Heero was the only one calm enough to notice that the door opened suddenly, and into the room, dressed nearly all in black with a cross around her neck, walked a nun.

Heero raised both eyebrows at the nun's sudden appearance, and really didn't know what to think. The middle-aged woman's face poking out of a black wimple took one look at the chaos, extracted what looked like a little wooden pipe from somewhere in her dark robes, put it to her wrinkly lips, and blew on it sharply. There was shrill, high-pitched whistle that flooded not only that room, but all the rooms adjacent to it, whether their doors were open or closed. It made everyone stop what they were doing and clap their hands over their ears, rendering the muddled mess of people relatively harmless. It was a superbly efficient method of crowd control.

The nun, who must have been partially deaf to begin with, drew her hands back inside her robes and addressed the gathering, once she felt the ringing in everyone's ears had probably stopped. "Who among you is Robert Marlowe?" she asked in an austere, dignified British voice.

Marlowe slowly stood up and peeked out from behind Quatre and the umbrella, holding a nervous hand in the air. "Um...I am...Miss...um, sister..."

"You may address me as 'Mother Superior'," the aging nun declared haughtily. "I oversee a small group of Benedictine sisters engaged in missionary work overseas. We have a delivery to make...a very precious piece of cargo...and we have been instructed to deliver it _here_."

There were confused looks all around, and one look of relief from Treize as he picked himself up off the desk and put his feet back on the floor, smoothing his hair back into place and straightening his cranberry tie. The worst of his day was yet to come, however, and it began as the nuns prepared to make their delivery.

The Mother Superior took out the whistle again, and everybody flinched, but she only gave it three quick, small tweets as a signal. Many footsteps approached, and a large gaggle of nuns shuffled in. They were short and tall, thin and pudgy, young and old. The older ones wore black, the younger ones wore white, and two who were no more than Relena's age wore half-wimples and simple dresses of gray. In their midst, towards the back of the pack and supported by two of the taller and stronger sisters, was a man...a man as tall as Treize with long, fair hair that partly obscured tired blue eyes that had seen enough of war...a man in a torn khaki uniform of the British army...a soldier.

Relena heard gasps and whispers, and crawled out from the corner to see what was going on. When she finally set eyes on the weary soldier, she inhaled sharply through the numb fingers that quickly flew up to cover her mouth, and her eyes stuck wide open. The fair-haired soldier pulled himself away from the holy sisters who helped him up the stairs and managed to take a few steps forward, limping noticeably. Relena rushed to cover the distance between them and fell into the man's arms, letting everyone watch as they squeezed each other and lightly cried.

Heero still hadn't moved. _Death has been extraordinarily kind to Milliardo Peacecraft,_ he thought wryly.

At the other end of the room, Treize's face, which had been infinitely smug only minutes earlier, contorted into a blood-boiling scowl as he saw all his hard work evaporate in a heartbeat. It was only then that he glanced to the back of the room and saw Heero lounging casually while the rest of the group was frozen in a dramatic tableau. He caught the boy's eye after a time and glared at him with fiery eyes. _You did this to me, you...you..._

It was just as well that Heero couldn't hear the entire thought, because it couldn't have been repeated aloud in polite company, but he got the jist of the look on his face. He locked eyes with Treize, pointed to himself with an innocent look that seemed to say, 'Who, me?' and then shrugged broadly.

In the middle of the room, the brief reunion between the Peacecraft siblings came to a convenient pause as Relena stepped to the side and clung to her brother's left arm, pressing her watery eyes into his sleeve. The two military men approached, and the one with slightly more hardware on his royal red uniform was the first to speak. "This is indeed an unexpected pleasure," he said.

Milliardo saluted the man, who returned the gesture. "Brigadier Hamilton...I have a full report to make on my disappearance from the frontline." His voice was rich and smoky, but terribly tired.

"It can wait," said the Brigadier gratefully.

Now the young soldier walked past his superiors and stopped in front of the battered Count. Nobody knew exactly how much he knew about what Treize almost succeeded in doing, but he didn't look pleased. "And you were just leaving, were you not? _Dear_ uncle?"

The two men glared venomously at each other and simultaneously uttered a few bitter syllables that would have sparked another raucous argument, but Relena stepped between them. "No!" she shouted, putting a hand on her brother's chest. "Let me." She put on her serious face and turned around, fixing an icy stare on Treize. "Otto?"

"Yes, m'lady?"

"Telephone the house, and have the staff remove all of the Count's belongings and place them out in the street."

Otto puffed up proudly. "At _once_, m'lady."

"And _you_," the girl spat, this time at her uncle, "I'm going to give you an hour-long head start. I want you _out_ of my house by the time we get there or I'll have you arrested for trespassing."

Treize spun around and leaned on Marlowe's desk. "They can't do this to me!" he hissed at the stone-faced solicitor. "The reading was finished before he arrived! I have precedence!"

Marlowe's only response was to pick up Milliardo's death certificate off the floor, hold it up, and tear it to pieces. He enjoyed it.

Treize huffed in frustration and shoved himself off the desk and past the Peacecrafts, avoiding everyone's eyes. He stopped short of the imposing wall of nuns and noticed Heero a second time, now with both arms slung over the backs of the chairs on either side of him. The boy looked up, gave the count a mock salute with his near hand, and watched him leave. That was the first time that the entire room noticed Heero's presence at the reading, and Relena made particular note.

Once Treize was gone, however, all that was forgotten. Relena hugged her brother again, and all the friends and acquaintances gathered around to hear the tale of Milliardo's miraculous reappearance. Forgetting protocol, he and Otto shared an impulsive bear hug, after which the tired young man was inundated with question after question from everyone in sight. Somehow, since it was still Marlowe's room, he managed to silence them all and ask all their questions at once. "Sir...how is this possible?" he said through a broad smile. "How did you make it back alive?"

Milliardo looked back at the flock of nuns. "I have the Benedictine sisterhood to thank for that. There was an attempt on my life at Boschbult, and I was forced to abandon the ranks and flee north, up through the German colonies, hitching rides with merchants and nomadic tribes. The assassins nearly caught up with me there, and I turned west into Central Africa, far enough that I hoped I might make it back into British territory. That's when they found me."

Relena turned to the Mother Superior with an infinitely grateful gleam in her eyes, replacing the tears. "I don't know how to thank you all! This is a miracle!"

"It was the least anyone would have done in similar circumstances," said the Mother Superior. "Our order sent us to minister to various peoples of Africa, and our time there was already at an end. It was a simple matter to see your brother safely to the Mediterranean and then back to England."

"But what a marvellous stroke of luck!" Marlowe commented.

One of the youngest sisters perked up excitedly. "Oh, but it wasn't luck, it was Sister Mary He--"

"It was the _guidance_ of the _Lord_," the Mother Superior corrected sharply, giving a pointed glare to the young one, who cowered. "He heard the prayers of the faithful, and through us, those prayers were answered."

Heero thought that exchange was particularly interesting, and wanted to hear what the young one in gray had to say.

"Still, I _insist_ you be our honoured guests for the evening," Relena said. "I won't take no for an answer! In fact, you're _all_ invited! This calls for a celebration!"

Cheers abounded among the guests, plus a few excited twitters from the nuns, and a cold, professional face on the Mother Superior. Heero slipped out while they were all making plans, intent on beating Treize back to the manor, just in case.

**********  
  


By the time Heero got home, he guessed that Otto must have made that phone call pretty quickly. There was a growing pile of luggage accumulating on the front walk, empty luggage with all the clothes and shoes piled on top of it. The housemaids were carrying Treize's belongings out in shifts and dumping them wherever they felt like it, and the ultimate undeserved mercy towards the pile was that the rain had stopped. Trowa and Arthur emerged as well, each carrying one end of a steamer trunk, which was dumped with the rest. They all had a perfect rhythm and a clear grasp of what to do, so they didn't miss a beat when Hilde spotted Heero stepping out of a cab, and happily bounced over to him, babbling at top speed.

"Heero, you should've been here! You won't believe what happened! Relena's brother showed up a little while ago with a bunch of nuns and they asked where she was and we told him she went to the see the lawyer and that's where they all went and we just got this phone call from Otto and he said to--"

"I know, I was just there," Heero said calmly, patting her shoulders to slow her down. "I take it Treize hasn't arrived yet?"

Hilde shook her head. "Uh-uh."

Heero nodded, deciding that they had matters well in hand. Just then, Duo came jogging out the front door carrying Shadow in one arm and hanging a brown paper shopping bag from the other. "Heero, I swear, I don't know how it happened. She was only out of my sight for five seconds. An hour and a half, tops."

Heero blinked. "How what happened?"

Duo draped Shadow around the back of his neck and shoulders, then opened the paper bag and held it out. Heero leaned forward and looked inside the bag, then recoiled and looked back up at Duo. "What is it? ......or what was it?"

"The Count's best dressing gown," Duo said. "When we got the phone call and started carting everything out, I found her with it in a closet down the hall. She must've...I dunno...gotten her claws into it...by accident, of course..." Duo tried to keep a straight face, but it was just too much. His sides started to shake, and fought heroically against a slowly creeping smile.

"It's not funny," Heero said matter-of-factly. Duo stared at him, snickering. Gradually, Heero caught the infectious grin and started snickering too, though he tried very hard to suppress it. Before he could totally humiliate himself, he struggled one last time and successfully put his stoic face back on. "It's _not_ funny!"

Duo saluted. "Yes, _sir_! Not funny, _sir_!" That was pretty snickerworthy in itself, but before they could get started a second time, a carriage drew up with Treize inside. Duo quickly jabbed Hilde in the arm and pointed back at the house. "Run and get that plate out of the oven, would ya?"

"Okay!" She went inside right away.

Everyone stopped working and stared as Treize disembarked. He glared at them all, and gave instructions to the driver to start loading up. There was only one person he wanted to have a word with, and as he approached that person, the staff went back inside for the last of the unwanted goods. Treize walked up to Heero and stopped short of arms' length, for everyone's safety. He clenched and unclenched his jaw several times, lividly, until he was finally able to speak. "_How_.....did you _do_ this?"

Heero shook his head with that same innocent look. "I wish I _could_ take the credit, honestly I do...but this had nothing to do with me."

"Come off it! You've been watching out for something like this to happen for _months_!"

"That's right, _watching_," Heero agreed. "Not doing. My mission said nothing about actively trying to stop you. I was sent to _watch_ you, and that's exactly what I did. _You_ self-destructed...and I watched."

While Treize fumed, motionless except for his ever-clenching jaw, Hilde came back with the plate Duo requested. Duo beckoned her over to where Heero was standing, and stood in front of Treize to make a small presentation. He smiled. "I brought you your dressing gown in this bag so it wouldn't get dirty from being tossed on the ground," Duo said, handing him the paper bag by the twine handles.

"Thank you," Treize growled in his lowest possible voice.

"Unfortunately, it met with a little accident between your bedroom and the front door." 

Treize opened the bag, looked at the shredded corpse of gold satin and red velvet that lay inside, and ballooned his eyes to their full diameter with rage. He then looked directly at Shadow, who licked her chops.

Duo snapped his fingers once, and the plate Hilde carried appeared in his hand. It was full of beef stew, mashed potatoes with gravy, coleslaw, and cherry cobbler, all together on the same bone china dish. Duo held it up with tremendous dignity. "And I took the liberty of keeping your lunch warm, because I thought you might want to take it with you and nibble on it on the way to wherever it is you're going." While Treize was still holding the shopping bag open, Duo reached out and tipped the whole plate of food down into it, scraping it down to the very last morsel with the solid silver fork. He exhaled deeply with a wide smile. "Bye." It was a very happy chef that sauntered back into the house.

Treize looked down at the bag and lifted his head away with a nauseated sneer, swallowing uncomfortably in disgust. Nobody could have topped that performance, so Heero and Hilde went back inside, just as the other servants were stepping out with the final dregs of Treize's belongings. Not one of them could ever be sure, but it would be rumoured for a long time to come that the Count stood there holding the tattered remains of his finest dressing gown, drenched in miscellaneous foodstuffs, and whimpered, just a little.

**********  
  


That evening, the ballroom at Bridlewood saw the strangest of impromptu parties that it was ever likely to see. On one end of the room were Relena, Milliardo, and all their father's friends from the neighbourhood, drinking and dancing to the tinny tunes of the phonograph, and at the other end was a group of nuns standing in a cluster, being constantly reminded of what they were and were not permitted to do. At first, there wasn't a great deal of interaction between the guests, but as the night wore on a bit, the Mother Superior lengthened the leashes of her girls and allowed them to socialize, provided that they work some religious content into as many conversations as possible. At one point, they even broke into song, regaling the family with lively African tunes in four-part harmony.

The fair-haired siblings stuck to each other like glue, and Milliardo had just as many questions about the state of the manor as Relena did about Africa. "How have you managed all this time with a skeleton staff?" he asked her, freshly cleaned up and wearing a fern green jacket and tan trousers from his father's wardrobe. He'd gotten a little bit too tall for his own clothes while he was abroad. "Where did you find them so quickly? And where did the rest of them disappear to? I haven't seen Pegan yet either, did something happen to him?"

"There were severe problems with the staff almost immediately after father died," Relena answered, her white beaded gown throwing sparkles of light from the chandeliers all over the room with every breath. "These replacements might have been hired in haste and desperation, but they've done their very best for us, and I couldn't have asked for a more loyal group of people." She fingered the rim of her sherry glass, thinking back on why she had been in such a hurry to hire replacement staff at all. "I remember how excited I was to learn that Uncle Treize was paying us a visit...I was frantic over making a good impression on him..."

Milliardo coiled a comforting arm around his little sister's shoulders. "You mustn't think of him any more. He's gone now."

"Yes, but he won't have gone far," Relena countered. "Lady Une will almost certainly give him a place to sleep until he figures out what to do next...which reminds me..." Her eyes flitted about the room and landed on Dorothy, who was sitting several yards away from the action, looking stiff and uncomfortable. "Would you excuse me a moment?"

Relena broke away from her brother's side for the first time all day and was quickly replaced by a freshly-washed Arthur in his Sunday suit, who greeted Milliardo with his umpteenth bear hug of the night, which he warmly returned. When Dorothy saw Relena headed towards her, she stood up, wrapping the same lock of hair around her nervous, twitchy fingers over and over again. _This is it,_ she thought, _she'll have me packing my bags as well any minute...only I don't have any other house to run to. She's bound to suspect me by now, any sane person would. Treize and I arrived together. She could think just about anything by now. It's a wonder she didn't throw us both out at the same time._

They stood face to face, and neither spoke. Relena regarded her friend very oddly, with an expression that seemed to be calculating and tallying something at a rapid pace. "Why don't you have a drink with the rest of us?" she asked finally.

Dorothy was taken aback. "I...I don't understand...surely you must think--"

"Dorothy, that uncle of mine has caused enough trouble in my house, and I'm not going to let him ruin a single moment more. Do you understand that?"

Surprised, the Baroness looked to either side, then nodded.

Relena smiled. "Good. Besides..." She took a step closer, gently removed the lock of platinum hair from the girl's worried fingers and smoothed it out with long, luxurious strokes. "...we don't need him anyway. We're still friends, aren't we?" Her voice took on a commanding tone, as if daring her to disagree.

Dorothy shivered involuntarily at the deft, gentle handling of her hair. "...of course, m'lady."

"Good." Relena walked away in total confidence, and Dorothy was actually a bit frightened by her for the first time ever. She could have demanded a recounting of her entire involvement with Treize right from his initial invitation to join him in England, but she didn't. It was almost as if she preferred not to ask the question. Dorothy pulled herself together at last and went off in search of a sherry.

**********  
  


In the prep room near where Dorothy had been sitting, surrounded by champagne glasses and plates of nibbles waiting to be distributed, Heero was telling the other boys all the hideous and marvellous details of the morning meeting, with help from Quatre, affording the greatest attention to the wisdom and forethought of Lord Peacecraft's will.

"He knew he was about to die, and he knew his brother would be the cause," the butler was saying. "He also knew that if Treize was successful in killing off the rest of the family, that would be evidence enough that Relena would be no safer, so the will stated that if Relena and Treize were the last survivors, it would be better to just give him the estate as a bribe to leave her alone. The restrictions were such that he couldn't have lived in either house afterwards, but I suspect that Lord Peacecraft was hoping he would sell up and disappear with the money, or simply take the gold and run, anything to keep his daughter safe."

"I know just what he must have been feeling," Quatre observed. "Better that she live poor than die rich."

Trowa nodded. "Makes sense. With her brother gone, Treize would've gotten what he wanted either way."

"Geez...poor guy," Duo said.

"A most honourable sacrifice," Wufei added. "Pity she might never know about it."

"She smarter than you think," said Quatre. "She'll figure it out...just give her time."

They all pondered it for a minute or two, after which Duo finished off assembling two trays of hors d'oeuvres and shoved them to the opposite side of the table. "Okay...these are ready to go, whoever wants to take 'em."

"We'll go," Quatre said, and he and Trowa each picked up a tray and went back into the ballroom to hobnob. Wufei wasn't in the mood for a party, and hadn't been invited anyway, so he turned in early. That left Duo and Heero standing around, wondering what they could reasonable do with their small pocket of quiet time, remembering, of course, that there were guests in the next room.

"Well...guess if we're staying...I won't be needing this." Duo took one of the envelopes out of his pocket, the one marked 'M.L.' for 'matched luggage.'

Heero took it from him and regarded it wistfully. "Send it in anyway. You never know when we might want to take a vacation."

Duo smiled and took the envelope back, then hugged Heero tightly but briefly. "Good to have a home to come back to, though, isn't it?" A sudden surge of laughter rolled in from the ballroom. "You'd better get back in there before they start rioting," he joked, handing him a tray with six glasses of bubbly.

"Why don't you take a break?" Heero asked, nodding his head in the direction of the ballroom.

"Nah, it's full of penguins in there. I got enough of them in the orphanage."

Heero shrugged. He took the tray and returned to the ballroom where he found that the 'penguins' were getting ready to leave anyway, and he still hadn't found out what he wanted to know about them. He quickly passed around the drinks he carried and followed them at a discreet distance as Relena began showing them out.

"I wish you could stay longer," she said.

"We appreciate the offer, but the hour is late," said the Mother Superior as she led her troops out of the ballroom. "Please extend our farewells to your brother, whenever he re-emerges. We shall find our own way out."

"Of course. I don't know where he's disappeared to now, but we're both very glad you stayed as long as you did. Thank you again."

Relena parted with the group and went back inside where the action was, and the nuns continued on down the hall, the stairs, and out to the foyer. Heero followed stealthily and listened to their modestly growing volume of conversation. The young ones enjoyed chattering with each other, and said many peculiar things, things which stuck firmly in Heero's ears and echoed to infinity. He watched them file out the front door, waited, watched Otto stroll by a moment later and lock the door, and then he was alone.

_What did they say? I couldn't have heard them right..._

Heero sat on the grand staircase, facing the door, in almost total darkness except for the glint of the streetlights shining through the windows. There were three things about the nuns that captured his attention, three things that he couldn't get out of his mind. The first was that several of them spoke with very pronounced Irish accents. The second was that they all wore crosses that appeared identical to Duo's. The third, and most astonishing of all, was that when unrestricted by their Mother, a few of the sisters spoke of the one who told them who Milliardo Peacecraft was, and how to find him--a woman of the veil named Sister Mary Helen.

_Mary Helen. No...it's too outlandish to be real. It has to be a coincidence._

If it were a coincidence, and if he were certain of it, Heero would have no qualms about telling Duo everything he had heard and seen, because it wouldn't matter if it weren't true. Nevertheless, he hesitated, and he didn't know why.

_It's just a coincidence....._

He sat on the stairs for ages upon ages, wondering what to do, if anything. He was unable to come to a conclusion.

**********  
  


The remaining guests were still having a grand time well into the night, looking at, of all things, Relena and Milliardo's baby pictures. Since the real Milliardo had wandered off again, presumably to be alone with his thoughts, nobody thought much of it, and they continued to drink and laugh in his absence.

He was much less alone than anyone might have imagined. News of the Khushrenada scandal had spread widely throughout the city's gossip network, and had reached the ears of someone living under a borrowed roof and desperate for some good news. That person made their way to Bridlewood guided solely by starlight, and was the soldier's most anxiously awaited visitor.

She was waiting for him in the gazebo out back, the same place where they had said their goodbyes so long ago, when he announced his desire to fight for his country and was whisked away into the military fold, not to be heard from for many moons. She wore the same blue dress, and picked the same yellow flower from the garden and placed it in her short, dark hair, and leaned back against the railing in the same way, watching her lover march steadfastly away from the lavish house to meet her. As he reached the wooden steps, he paused, and their eyes touched in mid-air. The woman smiled.

Milliardo climbed up the steps, even with the scars of battle that made him limp, and felt stronger than ever as his arms closed around the one he still loved. Ignoring the few tears of joy that escaped her control, Lucrezia reached up and brushed a few silken strands of golden hair away from his face, and framed his chiselled features with a lingering hand. Milliardo's hands floated up to cradle her head, and she closed her eyes slowly, exhaling a long-held breath thickly laden with pain, ecstasy, and everything in between. The gossamer threads that bound them together even over thousands of miles tied themselves tight around the lithe lovers, and pulled them close together for a single, shivering, rapturous kiss. Now the homecoming was complete.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


_Next, in Episode Fifty-Six: After a lengthy delay, the Coronation of King Edward can wait no longer, but the regal and opulent ceremony isn't the only exchange of power taking place, as the boys find out when they see familiar faces in the crowd._

*does happy dance* Be honest, you knew some of that was coming eventually, deep-down, right? =^_~= History buffs already know the date of the next episode, but I don't mind telling the rest of you--it's August 9th, a date that shall live in infamy...or somesuch. *grin*


	56. Ascension

**Warnings:** Religious content. Not that I'm opposed to it myself, or expect you to be, but there's quite a lot of it here, because that's how a coronation works. I'm not trying to convert anybody to or from anything, ok? *looks innocent* (Rachel: In addition, this episode was not endorsed by the Boy Scouts of America.)

**Disclaimer:** My current defence against any corporate lawyers who might decide to beat down my door and present a "cease and desist" order from BanDai is that I've been working on this for a WHOLE YEAR now, and if they even **tried** to shut me down, they'd have hordes of angry fans swarming all over them and plucking out each and every one of their body hairs, one by one by one. Right guys? *looks expectantly at her readers* ... *crickets chirp* ... =o_o;= *gulp* Uh...right? =D

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Fifty-Six: Ascension

_"The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing." ~Edmund Burke _

August 9th, 1902

Lucrezia awoke in a cloud of billowy white that was becoming increasingly familiar with each new dawn. Suddenly, all mornings were beautiful, even the ones that were pouring with rain. Stretching instinctively as the early light shone straight through her fluttering eyelids, she reached over to her right, and her hand landed on an empty pillow. Blinking with a faint smile, she rolled over, propping herself up on her right elbow and tugging the covers modestly closer to her throat. Her smile grew as she found what she needed just a few feet away.

Already awake for an hour or more, Milliardo stood at the open double doors leading out to the balcony of their suite, letting the brisk, perfumed air wash over him. He was surprised to find that it wasn't so much the English climate that he missed, but more the smell of the manor's rose gardens, and the chirping of finches and sparrows in all the surrounding trees. Ever since his return, he had spent hours upon hours just standing at the inner edge of the balcony, leaving his shirt hanging over the back of a chair, and the vigils would continue, he told Lucrezia, until he could see England instead of Africa every time he closed his eyes.

"It's not going anywhere anytime soon," she reminded him softly.

He turned just enough that the sunlight framed him in profile with a brilliant golden-red corona. "Before the war, I might have believed that."

Delicately, Lucrezia sat up, plucked a single cotton sheet from the tangled white cloud and wrapped it around herself as she stood. Tucking it around her middle and throwing the excess over her shoulder gave her the appearance of a luminous Neoclassical statue, but one that moved with smooth strides to stand next to the man at the balcony. "Has the world really changed that much since you left?" she asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"The world is the same...it's only the direction of mankind that changes." He leaned back just far enough to close the nearer of the two doors, and reached past Lucrezia to grab hold of the other. "The Empire won't survive much longer, and up until recently, I couldn't understand why...but now I know."

Lucrezia sighed, but not unhappily. Milliardo had been talking in such tones since his return, but only in private. He still put on the grateful face of the re-enfranchised heir for the family and the neighbours, of course, saving the deepest thoughts for when the two of them were alone together. He was holding a great deal back, only letting his musings escape a little bit at a time; quite honestly, Lucrezia preferred him that way, mindful of everyone's worries and yet darkly poetic behind closed doors. "Try not to let it upset you today," she said, hugging him from behind as he latched the doors shut. "You don't want to be the only one out there in a bad mood, do you?"

Milliardo didn't answer, but at least grasped the arms around his waist. He felt like an awful hypocrite, accepting Relena's invitation to take Treize's seat next to her at the coronation ceremony, but she was so looking forward to spending time together as a family that he wouldn't dare disappoint her. He would sit and smile like a good little citizen as he watched another benign figurehead assume control over a doomed conglomerate, and wouldn't have a single negative thing to say about it.

**********  
  


The very next day after Treize's eviction from the house, Heero took the elder Peacecraft aside, introduced himself in very oblique terms, and told him something that made Milliardo very surprised. Relena saw it, from a distance, but she said nothing. A few moments later, Milliardo announced that the original family butler, Pegan, had been unfairly forced out as part of the Count's nefarious plans, and that he should be brought back immediately. He and Relena, plus Otto, all got into their private carriage and had Trowa drive them to a sanatorium across town, the existance of which none were previously aware.

Milliardo spoke at length to the holy sisters in charge of the institution, after which the elderly servant was released into the family's custody, and Pegan was happily brought home. Once matters were partly explained, the family and staff fawned relentlessly over the sickly gentleman, and for a long while, he hardly had a moment to himself, not that he was complaining.

During a lull in the activity, Relena looked in on him from a slightly open door thinking he was alone, but saw Heero with him instead. The pair exchanged words, and Pegan gave the boy something, a small, round object with a golden glint and a short length of chain attached. It appeared to be a pocket watch. Pegan then grasped Heero's hands, closing them around the watch and giving the entire bundle a couple of short shakes to punctuate his quiet speech. Heero said a few words back, and they both smiled; the boy then picked up the tea service tray he came in for and walked out of the room through a different door. Relena saw the whole thing, but again, she held her tongue, waiting for an appropriate moment to analyse what she had seen.

Days later, she hadn't come to a conclusion, but it was more a case of 'Out of sight, out of mind' than anything else. Heero had asked for a few days off, and the house seemed to run just fine without his orderly influence. Now the focus was on the upcoming coronation, and while Milliardo was upstairs struggling with a moral dilemma in front of the balcony, Relena was in the parlour, helping Otto convince Pegan to take his ticket to Westminster Abbey.

"Please, I insist," Otto said in a quiet tone he hadn't used for months. "I wouldn't feel right sitting there knowing you were stuck here, especially after everything you've been through."

"Otto's right," Relena said, sitting next to Pegan on the sofa and patting his arm. "Milliardo and I still remember all those outings to parks and museums you took us on when we were children, it'll be just the three of us again! Like old times!"

Pegan smiled weakly. "You are both entirely too kind," he said, brushing lightly at the afghan draped over his legs, "but I'm sure I'd only slow you down, Miss."

"Nonsense, we'll just arrive a little early and leave a little late. That will give us plenty of time to make our way through the crowds, and since Edward still recovering from surgery, the whole ceremony is going to be shortened anyway! We'll all be fine!"

The old man's heart was about ready to burst, still surprised and relieved that the family could forgive him for his unexplained disappearance. "Well...if Madam will insist that I attend...I can't very well refuse," he acquiesced with a growing smile.

Relena smiled back and hugged his arm. "Otto, go see if the carriage is polished yet, and tell Trowa we'll be leaving early."

"Yes, m'lady." Otto left the parlour and trekked down towards the kitchen. There wasn't anyone else he could think of to whom he would rather give up his seat to something as monumental as the first crowing of a British monarch in nearly a century, so he wouldn't be the least bit bitter over having to stay home. Already planning how he would relax with the whole house to himself, for he had heard the housemaids voting to line the streets along the parade route, he looked around the basement for the first available person who could tell him the status of the carriage and horses. Hilde was there, and she pointed him to the stables, so he went straight outside.

Coincidentally enough, Duo had taken a three-day vacation at the same time that Heero did, and Hilde gleefully took over the chef's duties with the understanding that she expected some juicy gossip when he got back. She hummed her way through collecting the breakfast dishes together, and it was just as she took the first load of plates and bowls into the scullery for washing up that the vacationers returned.

Duo opened the door and stopped just above the half-flight of steps, leaning back against the doorframe with a contented sigh, tucking his hands behind his back. Overtop of plain brown slacks, he wore a red plaid flannel shirt like something out of an ad for lumberjack college. "I _love_ nature," he breathed out blissfully.

Heero appeared next, in tan trousers and a black turtleneck, carrying a duffel bag which he tossed down to the bottom of the steps so he could lean right up to Duo, with one hand propped up on the door frame above the chef's head and their noses just a pinch apart. They both looked ridiculously pleased with themselves. "Nature must be equally smitten with you by now," he said, snagging the end of Duo's braid with his free hand and toying with it. "Still...we knew it couldn't last forever."

"Rats."

Heero smirked and let go of the chestnut rope, simultaneously leaning closer to covertly kiss Duo's cheek. "I'd better see what the family's plans are." Reluctantly, he jogged down the steps and crossed the kitchen to the servants' stairwell, catching a goodbye smile from Duo as he looked over his shoulder.

Once he was gone, Duo reclaimed his workspace, looking over the structured chaos of the kitchen as he yawned and stretched both arms over his head. Hilde, who had been crouched in the pantry, desperately hanging onto a giggle, leapt out and pounced on Duo, twirling him around in a hug. "You're back!" she squealed. "Quick! Tell me all about it! Where did you go? What did you do? Spill it!"

Duo grinned, dashed to the stairs to make sure no one was listening, and rubbed his hands together briskly. "Okay, we left here Wednesday morning, right? I didn't have a clue where he were headed, but we ended up on a train to the Lake District!"

Hilde gasped. "You went all the way up north? Where did you stay? How could you afford it in the middle of the tourist season?"

"Hold on, I'm getting to that!" said Duo, adding descriptive hand gestures to his story. "So we get off the train and take a ride down to this little village, right? Real rustic, homey-looking spot...Heero _acts_ like he's picking out a restaurant at random, 'cause by then we're just about starving, but when we get inside the one he picks, there's this _huge_ chocolate cake with 'Happy Birthday' spelled out on it with vanilla frosting and little chunks of purple rock candy!"

"Ohhh!" Hilde clapped her hands over her mouth and chirped with delight.

"I think the whole village must've been there, including this one guy at the piano who could play _any_ song I asked for, without looking at any music!"

"Neat! What then?"

Duo's eyelids lowered slightly, harmonizing with a growing smirk, silent indicators that things were just getting interesting. "So, after dinner, we walk a little ways out of the village and we get to a lake...this absolutely _gorgeous_ lake. The sun's just starting to set, and the water's so still that it looks like glass, and there's trees and meadows and little lagoons all over the place, and a guy with a boat.

"The guy with the boat says he'll take us on a tour of some islands for sixpence. It was already getting late, and I didn't think he looked too trustworthy, but Heero seemed to think it was a good idea, so we got on the boat." Duo straightened up and held both hands up dramatically. "We get to see _one_ island, and then the guy looks at his watch and says, 'Whoops, I forgot I'm supposed to ferry some other poor saps from A to B, I'll have to drop you off on this island and come back _later_', later meaning, 'whenever the hell I feel like it.'"

"Oh _no_," Hilde gasped, her face falling in anticipation of worse news.

"So he drops us off on this island," Duo continued, "and I'm thinking, 'We're not seeing this guy again until morning, I'll bet. Some first semi-official birthday _this_ turned out to be,' right? And just when I'm all miserable and feeling sorry for myself, and kinda ticked off at _Heero_ for getting us stranded out in the boonies, he turns to me and he says...are you ready for this?"

Hilde bounced with excitement, squeezing her little fists close to her neck. "Mm-hm!"

"He says..." Duo quickly wrapped both arms around Hilde's waist and whipped her around to lean backwards at a passionate angle. "...'He can't be very observant if he thinks it's safe to leave you here alone with me'..." Purely for demonstration purposes, Duo planted a thick, luxurious kiss on her lips, then hauled her back upright and watched her eyes bulge as he stepped away.

Again, she covered her mouth and squealed like a schoolgirl. "I can't believe it! You're so lucky!"

Duo blushed. "Well, I overdramatized it a bit, but you get the idea."

"Did he kiss you more than once?"

"Heh...yeah."

"More than _twice_?"

The smirk got smirkier. "Maybe..."

"Did you do anything else?"

"I don't have to tell you _everything_," Duo said coyly.

"Rrrgh!" Before she could start hyperventilating, Hilde calmed herself with a deep breath. "Okay, so where did you go after that?"

"After that?" Duo asked innocently. "Nowhere. That's where we landed, and that's where we stayed, right on the island! We went camping!"

Hilde scrunched up her face at all the convenience-deprived images that word resurrected. "..._camping_?"

"Yeah! Right behind us where we got dropped off, there was a whole pile of rented camping equipment hiding in a clump of trees! A tent, and food, and a cast-iron skillet, and a do-it-yourself hammock, and all _kinds_ of stuff!"

"But...it's all so...so _primitive_," Hilde whined, unable to mask her disappointment. "Camping's not romantic!"

This time, Duo scrunched up his face at her audacity. "Whaddaya mean? Where would _you_ have sent us for a few days of 'alone time,' some frilly, fruity-puss hotel with linen tablecloths and lace curtains? _Yuh_-uhhhhck!" Proudly defiant, he puffed up and thumped the centre of his chest with one hand. "_Nooo_, we went on a _man's_ vacation! Hiking! Swimming! Fishing! Hunter-gathering! Sleeping to the sounds of crickets and voracious grizzly bears! Getting up at the crack of dawn and jumping into the frigid waters with just a pair of shorts between us and hypothermia!" He paused and switched from his tirade voice to his cute little mouse voice. "Not to mention toasting marshmallows in front of the campfire."

Hilde rolled her eyes. "You _are_ a marshmallow."

"Oh, stuff it," Duo snapped with a sharp display of his tongue. "Point is, it was a great surprise! We both had a blast! And Heero managed to pull the whole thing together without me getting the least bit suspicious! He's a good little organizer, y'know that?" Rolling up his sleeves, Duo went to grab the duffel bag and pulled a red and white checkered picnic cloth out of it, which he billowed out over a clear section of the kitchen floor when he saw that Hilde still wasn't convinced. "It's not as bad as you think, come on!" he prodded, lying down on the cloth.

Hilde laughed, then shrugged, then daintily lowered herself to the floor and laid down next to him on the cloth. "So, explain this sick fascination with playing hobo. I thought you _enjoyed_ having a roof over your head."

"It's not just being outdoors that's great, it's...it's knowing you're totally and completely isolated together in perfect solitude...it's staring up at the stars, trying to pick out constellations..." He pointed up at the ceiling, indicating different groups of pinholes in the great bowl placed over the Earth. "There's Aquarius...and Pegasus...and the Swan...the Big Bear...the Little Bear.....the Squirrel, the Chipmunk..."

Hilde giggled and slapped his arm.

"...and there's Walter, the guy from the fruit stand who's always rearranging his kumquats!" The pair of them started laughing and couldn't stop for several minutes. At last, they clambered awkwardly to their feet, and Duo gathered up the checkered cloth and stuffed it back in the duffel. "Yeah...this was the perfect getaway," he sighed.

"I'm glad you had a good time," Hilde said, picking up another armload of dishes to be washed. "If anyone ever deserved a few days off with a great guy, it's you."

Duo smiled. "Thanks." As she walked back through the pantry and disappeared, he glanced over his domain and was pleased at how well it seemed to have been managed in his absence. Just as he picked up the duffel bag and was about to cart it upstairs to the bedroom to sort through it, Heero came down with a letter in his hand, and stopped him. He looked sombre.

"This arrived while we were gone."

"Sounds serious. What's up?"

Heero kept the envelope, to study the postmark, but handed the single-page letter to Duo. "It's your friend, Giorgenson. He wants to meet with all of us, today."

Duo glanced up after struggling through the first line-and-a-half of chicken-scratch writing. "Who qualifies as 'all'?"

"You, me, Quatre, Trowa, and Wufei. He expects to see us outside Westminster as soon as possible this morning." Heero paused and took an official-looking writ with a shiny red seal on embossed, semi-translucent stationary out of the envelope next. "There was also this," he said, holding it up.

Duo took the writ as well, and had an easier time deciphering the typewritten content. "...'This document entitles...five persons...gallery seating'...what the...what does this mean?"

"Apparently, the five of us are going to the coronation. It's all been arranged."

The shock on Duo's face was quite plain. It was absolutely inconceivable that five common kids like them, four of them lowly servants, could ever aspire to even be on the same street as the King of England, and now they would all be in the building to see him crowned at last. The concept was daunting, and the mystery was no clearer than before.

**********  
  


Following Giorgenson's instructions, the boys quickly got dressed up in the best clothes they could find. Heero had no trouble locating something suitable in his wardrobe, Duo wore his black frock coat even though it really didn't suit boys his age, and Wufei pulled a black satin tunic out of nowhere, embroidered with a rust-coloured crane standing in a pool of water. Trowa was also taken care of by his coachman's uniform, for he would have to drive the family to the centre of the action and then meet up with the others a little bit later. Quatre, however, was an outdoor labourer with little other than work clothes, and had to go scavenging through the attic for appropriate attire. He emerged with a gray suit that was a little long around the ankles, and he felt silly rolling up the cuffs, but it was either that or trip over every two steps. He hoped that they wouldn't bump into Relena's brother, else he might have recognized the clothes he once grew out of.

Carriages and cabs were hard to come by that morning, and the trains were terribly crowded, so they made their way to Westminster Abbey partly on foot. It was tiring, but the views of the celebratory decorations were magnificent. Every street was coated in banners and bows of red, white, and blue, and veritable oceans of flowers in the corresponding colours had been harvested and put on display in every window. The streets were getting dangerously crowded the closer they got to the cathedral, and more than once, they came upon an impassable line of policemen and had to backtrack a short distance. When they finally made it to the west entrance of the imposing Gothic building and politely shoved their way through the anxious mob, Trowa was already there waiting for them, and their reunion was brief.

All five heads were drawn up to the twin spired towers and the gleaming facade full of arches, niches, and stained glass windows, but the boys didn't have as long as they would have liked to appreciate it. A man's voice called out to them, and they all turned. A giant gray mushroom cap was headed their way, with a head and a body somewhere underneath. "Wait up, kids! Hold on a minute!"

Duo smiled and stepped forward to greet the man as soon as he emerged into the small clearing, but something about his general manner made the chef stop and frown. Professor Giorgenson had come to meet them as promised, but he didn't seem his usual wacky self. "Hey," Duo greeted him, "been waiting long?"

"No...not very long at all," the Professor said plainly. He had on one of his usual lab-type coats, with one hand in his pocket and the other nursing his pipe. He kept looking over his shoulders oddly.

"You said you wanted to speak to us before the coronation," Heero said, taking out his pocket watch and flipping it open. "You've got about twenty minutes."

Giorgenson's head tilted down a bit, and he did something none of the boys had ever seen him do, not even Duo. With his pocket hand, he took off his shiny spectacles, folded them up, and tucked them away in his inside coat pocket. They could all see his silvery gray eyes with the snatches of hazel quite clearly, and for that, he looked terribly old, and very tired. "I'm sorry, boys...I haven't got the time now to tell you what you need to know. I've been busy...tying up loose ends in preparation for today...I just couldn't manage it."

Duo shrugged. "Don't worry about it, we can meet up after. This royalty thing can't possibly take up the whole day, people have gotta go home and cook dinner, y'know."

Giorgenson pursed his lips under his bushy moustache and continued to look a little deflated. "I think I may be all out of afters." When they all looked totally confused, he centred himself in front of Duo and slipped the free hand back into his pocket. "I'm sorry, son...but after today...there's a chance that you might not see me again."

Everyone gaped, especially Duo, who threw in a lost puppy expression and a shake of his head for good measure. "But why? You're not gonna pick up and move just when things are getting interesting at our house, are ya? We've got so much to tell you!"

The Professor shook his head right back. "What happens to me now may not be _up_ to me much longer, but I don't want you worrying about a sorry old goat like me. Regrets never do people any good." The boys didn't know what to say; the man's voice sounded so serious, so final...it tugged curiously at Quatre's sixth sense so hard that he impolitely probed further into the strange man's aura, and swallowed at what he felt. Giorgenson didn't expect to see the next sunrise.

Duo didn't have a sixth sense, but he knew something was very wrong regardless. "There must be something we can do..."

In a perfectly smooth motion, Giorgenson snatched the spectacles out of his coat, put them back on his face, and dipped the hand back into his pocket. "If you and your friends are ever looking for quality higher education, I hope you'll give Oxford a try." He took the hand out of his pocket and held it out to Duo. Both he and Heero noticed that the hand was tilted palm down, an odd angle for a handshake. Cautiously, Duo took the man's hand and felt something thin and cold being pressed into his. "Remember, don't take any wooden nickels, and don't trust anyone over thirty."

Duo forced an insincere smile. "You got it."

"Take care of yourself, kiddo. And say goodbye to Lulubelle for me." Giorgenson took his hand back, leaving the cold, thin object behind, and walked away. After a few paces, he turned around, pointing a thumb at the cathedral. "You think they'll let me smoke in there?"

Duo thought about it, then shook his head. "Nah."

Giorgenson shrugged, snuffed out his pipe, and put it away, disappearing into the crowd for good. Heero stepped up to Duo's side and whispered in his ear as they both fixed their eyes on the Professor's line of retreat. "He palmed you something?"

"Yeah," Duo whispered back. "It feels like a key, but I'm not gonna look at it until we're out of here."

"Good thinking."

Dazed by the surreal encounter, the boys left the clearing in the crowd and made their way to the north entrance, as dictated in the letter. Officials at the door had serious doubts that the strange youths had any right to enter, but a look at the writ with the red seal was just barely enough to get them in the door--and once inside, all five of them froze.

The interior of the building was cavernous, and the tenuous notes of the pipe organ echoed with perfect resonance. A highly-polished black and white tiled floor reflected massive beams of sunlight that burst through hundreds of panes of coloured glass, in between massive stone pillars that stretched up to giant hovering arches in the brightly-lit ceiling. To the right, towards the west entrance, the church was lined on either side with wooden tier seating where the choir was housed, backed by decorations of royal blue and gold that reached all the way to the nave, where the bulk of the guests were seated. To the left was an area raised by a few steps, on which sat the altar, shining like the sun, the coronation chair which had been an integral component of such ceremonies for generations, and a set of thrones and stools, upon which the King and Queen would sit and kneel at different points in the service. Nothing they had ever seen before was so awe-inspiring, and it kept them mute and paralysed in heavenly wonderment.

The boys were beginning to block traffic, so an attendant stepped forward and showed them to five empty seats in the third row of a bank of wooden chairs with an aisle down the middle, systematically spread over the floor of the north transept. As they took their seats, Wufei was closest to the glittering altar to their left, and the rest lined up eastward towards the choir with Quatre on Wufei's right, then Trowa, then Duo, then Heero. They were surrounded by dignitaries, politicians, religious figures, aristocrats, and military officials; the five commoners looked very out of place, and drew many stares. Directly across from them, in the south transept, there was another large bundle of chairs with an identical aisle down the middle; there seemed to be a sizeable gap in the second row.

Off to Heero's right, down the long promenade of black and white checkerboard tile, he saw that there was only a little opening through which most of the spectators could see the main attraction, and realized that the five of them must have been placed among the highest of the high. He was instantly impressed that Giorgenson had the same quality of connections as Jeffrhyss. In that far-off seating area, filled with the same wooden chairs, sat those who weren't quite as important, socially, to sit with the visiting dignitaries and heads of state, but who were still very well connected. In this group were Pegan, Milliardo, and Relena, who had no idea of who was sitting a stone's throw away from the carved wooden chair upon which Edward would be crowned.

Up at the front of the church, the boys were still bedazzled by the architecture and atmosphere, but all of a sudden, Quatre wasn't feeling too well. Tiny eddies of nausea fluttered against his belly, and a short spurt of dizziness soon followed. He slumped forward slightly, and Trowa was quick to prop him back up again. "What's wrong?" he whispered.

Quatre raised a hand to his own cheek and felt how hot his face was. The sick feeling dissipated with Trowa's words, and he straightened up. "I'm alright." _Maybe that was just leftover tension from what I felt coming off the Professor._ Only seconds later, the nausea and dizziness returned, and he scrunched up a little, clutching at his stomach. "...no, I'm not..."

A small pocket of concern developed around the gardener as both Trowa and Wufei tried to figure out what was wrong. Heero was too engrossed with reading the programme to notice. Duo would have put his two cents in if not for something across the church that caught his eye, something that he thought might possibly be the worst possible sight that could have been inflicted on them, at that time or any other. He reached up with a quivering hand and slapped Heero lightly on the shoulder. "H-Heero?"

Heero looked up at him. "Hn?"

"Look what just walked in."

Directly across from their seats, six men and five young boys about Heero's age walked in through the south transept and occupied the empty seats in the second row. The first man was rather average-looking, clean-shaven, with a fringe of gray hair and a black suit. He carried what looked like a miniature treasure chest. Following him was a teenage boy dressed all in white, and then came Lord Jeffrhyss.

At the sight of the man, Heero found himself compressing his spine in an effort to hide behind the man sitting in front of him. The church was still so noisy that he never heard the characteristic 'thok-thok-thok' of the ominous peg legs on the floor. Duo silently alerted the rest of their group, and soon they were all watching the grim parade, now the obvious cause of Quatre's psychic distress.

The eleven newcomers were arranged in alternating ages, with one teenage boy separating each of the grown men, almost like junior escorts. After Lord Jeffrhyss came Professor Giorgenson, then three more gentlemen whom Heero couldn't recall ever seeing before. One had thin, spiky hair of an unnatural grayish-brown, and a black kerchief covering his face from just below his eyes downward. Another was short, stout, and had a thin black moustache that pointed to either side in two sharp little darts. The last man was tall, broad, and completely bald, and had a permanent frown that couldn't have been scrubbed off, even with steel wool. All five of the young boys accompanying them had glimmering eyes brimming with fierce determination. These were certainly no grunts; they were agents.

"I know him," Heero said quietly, looking at the fair-haired boy between Jeffrhyss and the man with the treasure chest. His hair seemed to be thinning prematurely, and his eyes were set quite shallow, adding to the slightly depraved look on his face as he grinned evilly around the room. "He's a high-level agent, and a master at sword fighting. He was on long-term assignment when I left...must've just got back."

"Who are the others?" Duo whispered.

"Don't know."

Three chairs down, Quatre peered in between the heads of the people in front of him, still clutching the front of his shirt. "I do."

Everyone looked at Quatre.

"Third from the right...the one with the black moustache..." He paused to take a deep, shaky breath, then stared straight ahead, boiling with repressed anger. "It's Hassan...the man who murdered my father and set my sisters at each other's throats!"

The group's eyes all snapped to the moustached man at once, and stuck there until Trowa made another startling announcement. "That man with the cloth covering his face...I think I've seen him before..."

"Where?" Heero asked, not taking his eyes off the row of strangers.

"At the shipyards where I grew up, on the Mediterranean," Trowa recited numbly. "A group of pirates tried to recruit sailors for their crew, me included. They took orders from a man who looked just like that...always masked..."

As their attention shifted, Duo saw that something was really wrong with the visual proportions of whatever was under the black kerchief. "What's the matter with his face?"

Trowa swallowed. "If it _is_ him, his nose is gone."

Duo gagged. "You're putting me on."

"No one was exactly sure what happened to it. Some said he had it slashed off in a bar fight, others said he had leprosy."

The other four cringed at the thought of exposing a large group of mostly-innocent people to such a gruesome affliction. Between them, they could now identify four out of the six men, leaving Wufei to make his reluctant contribution. "That big bruiser on the end was mine," he groaned. "He was my first master, the one who thought I'd never amount to anything."

Heero exhaled slowly. "Well.....fate has a sense of humour after all."

What in fact they were looking at was five professional associates, five young bodyguards attending purely as a formality, and one neutral stakeholder, guarding the little treasure chest. The boys had to let it sink in for awhile that they were each connected, through everything from casual acquaintance to long-term harassment, to Lord Jeffrhyss and the thick morass of pure evil that surrounded him. Through several seconds of intense staring, Duo made eye contact with Giorgenson, and the Professor grinned back, comically stretching out his moustache as if to say, 'Roll with it.' Duo then looked up and all around at the holiness of his surroundings, and was filled with an angelic sort of calm. The others were morbidly tense, and he felt the need to do something about it.

"Hey...you guys?" he whispered, grabbing their attention. "They're over there, and we're over here. There's hundreds of people around us, and tens of thousands of people outside, so I don't want _any_ of you getting freaked out by those goons. They can't get us, they can't hurt us...right now, this minute, they can't do anything to us. And don't forget, either...we're in a _church_. Nobody can get anybody in a church, so everybody relax."

They were all impressed by Duo's strength, and Quatre felt their collective level of anxiety drop with his bolstering words, so they were alert and attentive when the ambient music ceased and the ceremony finally began. Several important church figures were assembled far away at the west entrance, and as the choir sang the opening litany, all were directed to stand for the entrance of the King and Queen.

In the larger part of the audience, Relena got a chill as the choir switched over to the strains of the Psalm 'I Was Glad When They Said Unto Me,' a traditional tune that had been sung at many coronations in the past. In through the west doors marched the Archbishop of Canterbury wearing his finest vestments, and following him were Bishops carrying religious artifacts and Lords carrying swords. Lords and Ladies, peers and peeresses, knights, dukes, and all sorts of aristocrats accompanied them. All eyes snapped immediately to the man of the hour, Albert Edward, or 'Bertie,' and his bride, Alexandra, who marched along with the others in a simple, dignified rhythm.

_How thin the King looks!_ Relena thought as the royal couple passed by. His Majesty had recovered from his illness, but not without significant weight loss, and while he was still a husky fellow, he wasn't nearly the great balloon of a man he used to be. He wore a long cloak of purple velvet, trimmed with ermine and decorated on the shoulders with bright bows. A thick chain of medallions hung low around his neck, over a gold smock and white stockings, ending in polished white shoes with gold accents.

Alexandra was an even more splendid sight to behold, in a gown of golden gauze with a long crimson train, trimmed in ermine as well. A similar chain of medallions hung over her dress, but room was also made for a blue sash over her left shoulder, an ornate and glittering necklace that almost completely covered her throat, and a star-shaped brooch on the bodice of her gown. Her dark hair was swept up and piled on top of her head in delicate curls, and though she was no longer a young woman by any means, she was still slender, pretty, and youthful, unlike her husband, who had quite a lot of gray in his beard. Relena was mesmerized by the procession, and felt utterly plain in her white lace gown. _It must be wonderful being the Queen._

As the royal couple made their way past Heero, he barely noticed. His eyes were fixed on Jeffrhyss and the fair-haired agent on his right hand. He had to know what they were doing there. He had to know why his master would be so openly exposed with all his associates. Heero looked up to his left, and suddenly there was a collection of relics on the altar, and the King and Queen were seated. Not long after, the Archbishop and four highly decorated gentlemen presented Edward to the people standing in each of the four cardinal directions, beginning with the east, towards the altar.

"Sirs, I here present unto you King Edward, your undoubted King," said the Archbishop. "Wherefore all you who are come this day to do your homage and service, are you willing to do the same?"

In accordance with the preprinted programme, the people standing to the east all declared, 'God save King Edward.' This was repeated three more times in a clockwise circle, and Heero paid close attention to the six old men. They were actively participating, though they seemed disinterested. _They're here to purposely witness Edward assuming power,_ Heero decided. _They weren't invited, they invited themselves so they could make sure everything happens the way it's supposed to...but why?_

At that precise moment, Jeffrhyss noticed Heero's presence and for once, he actually looked surprised. It was difficult to tell the difference behind the dark spectacles, but Heero could tell. After puzzling over the matter briefly, Jeffrhyss looked over at Giorgenson and frowned nastily. Giorgenson looked up at the architecture and whistled a few innocent notes. All Heero could hope for was that word wouldn't spread to the rest of Jeffrhyss' entourage, lest the others recognize some members of Heero's entourage, thereby putting them at elevated risk. Thankfully, that didn't happen.

Next, with the King sitting in the ornate antique coronation chair, the Archbishop began a kind of swearing-in. "Sir, is your Majesty willing to take the Oath?"

"I am willing," answered the rich, warm voice of the bearded regent.

Everything went smoothly as Edward answered in the affirmative to a long series of challenges issued by the Archbishop. There was frequent prayer and pontification, many songs taken from the traditional English hymnbook, and a Benediction, after which all those in attendance were required to kneel for the Communion service. This was particularly amusing for Heero, for Jeffrhyss sneered distastefully at the thought of having to kneel to anyone or anything, but ordered the youngsters on either side of him to help him down anyway.

"Almighty God, unto whom all hearts be open, all desires, known, and from whom no secrets are hid, cleanse the thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of the Holy Spirit..."

Jeffrhyss was clearly suffering from having the concept of God rammed down his throat, grimacing in agony as he was forced to take in large volumes of what he considered to be superstitious claptrrap. Heero was laughing on the inside. _Looks good on you._

"Christ have mercy upon us," the congregation suddenly chanted.

Heero blinked, then looked down at his programme. Everyone was supposed to respond to the Archbishop at the same time, and he missed it. Duo could tell he was feeling a bit sheepish as he flipped through the booklet in his lap, looking for his place. The chef reached out and squeezed his nearest hand, then pointed out the spot where they left off. Heero looked up and was met with an understanding smile, causing him to marvel at how relaxed and confident Duo looked. In the ceremony, some excerpts were read from a great book on the altar, and the people were made to stand again, following which a sole voice in the ruff-collared choir sang out a series of long verses labelled in the programme as the Creed. Heero looked over at Duo and saw that the boy was faintly mouthing out the words from memory, looking wonderfully serene.

_Quite the difference,_ Heero realized in a flash of inspiration. _This entire building is an anathema to Jeffrhyss, but Duo is completely at peace. He seems to understand everything that's happening here...maybe that's why he seems so relaxed. I was only given the bare minimum of objective instruction on organized religion, so I couldn't begin to guess what it is about it that puts Duo at ease but sets Jeffrhyss on edge, but it's difficult to argue with results...I wonder if I should ask Duo to explain it to me..._

Again the congregation was asked to kneel for a hymn and a prayer. Quatre found the proceedings strange and alien, and felt the tiniest bit afraid that his father was sitting in the afterlife, shaking his head at his son for being in a Christian church. He firmly reassured himself that it was no more than an outing with his friends...and then his eyes were dragged back to Hassan, the wicked usurper and traitorous aide. _I was guided here to see the face of my true enemy,_ he declared silently. _Nothing else here matters. As soon as this gathering is finished, I have to warn Yasmeen and the others that this fat scorpion is here, so they can prepare themselves for danger. I'd do it now...but I'd only draw attention to myself._ The people all stood, the choir sang once more, and the King and Queen were anointed with Holy Oil. _Well...the music is quite pretty,_ Quatre thought with a smile, _and besides, it would be rude to leave early._ He felt better, and decided to relax and enjoy the rest of the spectacle.

The next portion of the ceremony involved presenting the Sword of State to the King, accompanied by more vows and prayers. That caught Trowa's attention, for it looked like as finely-crafted a piece of weaponry as he had ever seen. His mind flew back to his days in the Spanish navy, when the sailors would sometimes wile away their off-hours with mock sword fights. When the pirates arrived and made their proposition to the men, to join their ranks and share in ten lifetimes' worth of plunder on the open waters, some men left and some men stayed. The pirates had high hopes for Trowa, being so young and so talented, and spent countless hours training him in the black arts. Trowa never understood why, but now wondered if the spiky-haired man with the black kerchief over his face was grooming him to be an agent like Heero. _If that's true, he couldn't have been very pleased when I ran away to England. I wonder if he'd recognize me now..._

"Receive this kingly sword, brought now from the Altar of God," said the Archbishop, handing it in its scabbard to the King, "and delivered to you by the hands of us the Bishops and servants of God, though unworthy. With this sword do justice, stop the growth of iniquity, protect the holy Church of God, help and defend widows and orphans, restore the things that are gone to decay..."

Trowa wondered, while the Archbishop rambled, how quickly he could leap over the two rows of spectators in front of him, jump up into the sanctuary, grab the sword, and behead the three men whom he was sure had done evil, before the Lord Chancellor and the Earl Marshal could wrestle him to the floor. Giorgenson would be spared for his kind help, and so would the two bald men on either end of the delegation until he had proof that they were as crooked as Jeffrhyss. The teenagers he would judge on their individual merits, time permitting, until he was either shot or... _I couldn't do that to Quatre,_ he thought with a smirk, looking down. _While I know I could do it if I tried, I couldn't burden him with that kind of guilt._ After deciding to just sit there, he felt calmer.

One piece at a time, the Archbishop next gave to the King a sceptre, a rod, and an emerald ring, each with their own symbolism, proclamation, and special meaning. The glint of gold attracted Wufei's attention, though quite unpleasantly. He hated the colour and shine of gold, barely tolerating it in his daily life, because he associated it with Meiran's death. For that, he blamed his previous master, among other people; the bald man still hadn't noticed the boy, and was sitting there very boredly. Wufei narrowed his eyes at him. _My dream was solely to make Treize pay for my suffering, but you deserve just as much pain as he does. I never thought I could get to you before. The whole organization seemed untouchable...but I can show you all how wrong you are. Someday._ He felt more vigilant, a new goal having been set.

Next came a critical point in the prescribed chain of events, and the delegation of darkness to the south suddenly paid remarkable attention. As the people rose to their feet yet again, the Dean of Westminster presented the crown to the Archbishop, a sparkling concoction of jewels and crimson velvet, with one massive diamond as a centrepiece and topped off with a cross. Reverently, it was placed upon Edward's head as he sat in the antique coronation chair, and the people shouted out resounding echoes of 'God save the King!' Simultaneously, the Lords and Ladies in attendance to the royal couple all put on their own crowns. Relena was particularly entranced by the long row of white-gloved arms that cascaded up and down again as the peeresses all donned their coronets at the precise moment when Alexandra was crowned Queen.

The Bishops then placed Edward on the throne, and a rapid, shortened procession of Dukes and Earls knelt and swore fealty to the new monarch. The cannons were fired, the trumpets sounded, and the choir belted out impassioned anthems, culminating in the choreographed declaration of the people, 'God save King Edward! Long live King Edward! May the King live forever!' Exactly on cue, the organ struck a series of chords, and everyone sang 'All People That On Earth Do Dwell' to round out the afternoon. Duo, unlike his companions, was able to put his worries on hold. He was enjoying the colourful pageant, and felt somewhat proud to be a part of history. Instead of fixating himself on the six old men, he listened to Heero's bashfully restrained singing voice, watched with a smile as Heero glanced repeatedly down at the programme all through the communion in case he missed something he was supposed to do or say, and fought off a grin as Heero deliberated for several seconds before joining the rest of the congregation in the Lord's Prayer, a third of the way through it. Giorgenson had told Duo not to worry himself to pieces, and he obeyed with a glad heart.

Everyone knew the ceremony had been curtailed somewhat, but it was still a long affair with many more presentations and rituals. At one point, Wufei began to nod off, and Quatre had to elbow him twice to keep him awake--and just in time, too, for a significant event was about to occur, starting with a final ministration from the Archbishop. "...and the blessing of God Almighty, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, be amongst you, and remain with you always. Amen." The people stood, and the choir sang the Te Deum Laudamus. The new King rose from his throne, carrying the Rod and the Sceptre, and went with the Archbishop through a passageway to the right of the altar and disappeared, along with the Lord Great Chamberlain, the Groom of the Robes, and an entire flock of other dignitaries that had participated in the ceremony. As soon as they were gone into the Chapel to conduct some secret business, there was action in the south transept.

Jeffrhyss looked haughtily at Giorgenson, who slowly brought his hands up behind his neck and fiddled with something, eventually taking a long, tarnished silver chain out from under his shirt and gathering it up into one hand. There was something dangling at the end of the chain, but no matter how hard Heero craned his neck, he couldn't discern what it was. Giorgenson gave the chain to the boy on his right, who gave it to Jeffrhyss, who gave it to the fair-haired agent, who finally gave it to the balding man with the treasure chest. The balding man then drew a similar chain out from under his own clothes, and this one definitely had a tiny key at the end, which he used to open the chest. He placed Giorgenson's chain inside, carefully swung the tiny lid shut again, and locked it. The whole process was completed in plenty of time before the King re-entered the cathedral and was prepared to leave by his various attendants. For the very final segment of the ceremony, the King and Queen processed back towards the west entrance with their entourage as the people sang 'God Save the King.' For the first time that day, Duo abstained from what everyone else was doing.

"Did you see that?" Duo leaned over and whispered to Heero.

"I saw it."

"What do you think?"

"...I don't know yet."

After that, everything wound down fairly quickly, for the action had moved outside. The roar of the crowd could be heard past the west doors, as the royal couple got back into their golden carriage, presumably on their way to Buckingham Palace. The guests got up and milled around inside the cathedral, rubbing elbows for a little while before slowly filing out, trying to preserve the magical feeling for as long as they could. Relena desperately wanted to get closer to the front of the church where all the world leaders were sitting, for there was no way she was getting out the back for quite some time, due to the crowds. Leaving Milliardo to look after Pegan, who needed to sit down for awhile after the moving experience, she skittered about the nave and made it all the way to the choir boxes, where she stopped to have a look around.

Just then, Heero was making some quick executive decisions. The eleven-man delegation on the south side got up and walked out in an orderly fashion, and Giorgenson tossed one last smile Duo's way. Not wanting to let them get away that easily, Heero asked for volunteers to try and head the group off at as many exits as possible, and four hands flew up. He quickly delegated them each a door to guard, and the four of them ran out the north entrance to encircle the building. Heero tried to follow Jeffrhyss and Giorgenson directly by cutting straight across the sanctuary, but every few steps, he was stopped and greeted by a different guest, to each of whom he had to keep explaining that he was there as a guest as well, not to serve drinks.

Just west of his position, equally boxed in by spectators, Relena was trying to edge closer to the altar. The papers had reported that several foreign guests who had arrived for the previously set date of June 26th had gone home already, and so she studied as many faces as she could, trying to figure out who had stayed and who had not. She saw something monstrously, outrageously, brain-crunchingly inconceivable, and froze.

Barely visible in the sliver of space between two much taller heads of state, looking as out of place to Relena as a crouton in a vat of pasta salad, was Heero. She rubbed her eyes and looked again, hoping that she had simply hallucinated, creating a false mental image from her residual infatuation with the boy, but he was still there, standing among the highest of the high. It just didn't add up. _When I was a little girl, I dreamed of being one of these privileged people, being so admired, so envied...and Heero, Heero of all people, a foreigner, a commoner, and my employee is standing with royalty and heads of state!! What in Heaven's name is happening here!?_ Relena was grinding her teeth all the way back to the nave, where she told her family it was time to go, _immediately_.

Heero had not only failed in following Jeffrhyss, but was getting fed up with being mistaken for an usher and began telling people he was the Japanese Ambassador just to get them off his back. By the time he got to the south transept, his master was gone. When he made his way outside and regrouped with the rest of his team, they all had long faces; Giorgenson and the others had vanished without a trace. Despondent, Trowa went to ready Relena's carriage, and the other four began the long, bewildering walk home.

**********  
  


Otto had a nice long nap while everyone was out of the house, a rare and fabulous luxury. When the housemaids came rampaging in through the front door, giggling and crowing over everything they had seen, that was his cue to wake up and rejoin the real world. They found him quicker than a pack of bloodhounds, burst through the parlour doors carrying various brightly-coloured objects adorned with portraits of the King and Queen, and immediately began a disorganized session of 'show and tell.'

"Look at the souvenirs we got!"

"Isn't this the most gorgeous coffee mug you've ever seen?"

"Just look at my new pen an' pencil set!

"You should've been there! Everything was so beautiful!"

"Look at my collector's plate! There's a whole series, and I want them all!"

"See my new teapot? Doesn't Bertie look handsome?"

"What do you think of my new cameo earrings? One's Bertie, and the other's Alix!"

"Where's your souvenirs? Didn't you get any?"

"You haven't been sittin' around in _this_ place all day, have you?"

Otto yawned unwillingly. He just couldn't get as excited by the whole ordeal as the ladies, and he also couldn't see much point in bringing home a lot of cheap mementos, half of which were stamped with the wrong date. Still, not wanting to deflate their spirits, he paid polite attention and said something nice about everything they brought into the house. While he was soothing their egos, he thought he heard the back door open and close, but thought little of it.

Several minutes later, after the maids had trotted up to their room to put their priceless pieces of art on display, the family came in through the front door, and Otto heard the clatter of the carriage rolling down the side of the house to the back yard. He went to greet them right away. "Sir, Miss...did you enjoy yourselves?"

Relena was getting good at that fake smile. "It was very nice, Otto, thank you."

Milliardo didn't say anything while he removed the thick red coat of his uniform and hung it on the hat rack, but Pegan was more than happy to take his turn speaking. "And I must thank _you_, Miss. Only a few days ago, I never would have believed that I could have come home, and not only that, but to see Victoria's successor crowned with my own eyes...I shall never forget this day!"

"And it was a _long_ day for you, wasn't it, all that kneeling and standing," Relena cooed, taking his hands briefly in hers. "Why don't you go have a rest in the drawing room, and I'll have Heero bring you up some tea."

"A fine idea, Miss Relena," Pegan said, shuffling off down the hall.

"Otto, is Lucrezia here?" Milliardo asked, having put on his more casual fern green blazer.

"No, sir," Otto answered, "Miss Lucrezia and the Baroness went to Piccadilly, but they expected bo be back by tea time."

Milliardo nodded. "We'll take our tea in the conservatory when she returns," he said, walking out of the foyer.

Relena used the exchange to slip away, not wanting to waste energy on any prolonged conversations about how her day went. She had bigger fish to fry. She wanted to know exactly what Heero was doing at Westminster Abbey, how on earth he managed to lie, cheat, or bribe his way inside, and why, out of all the important people in London, in England, in the world, _he_ ended up in the coveted seating area next to the sanctuary instead of her. It was unthinkable. It was unbelievable. It was totally unfair.

She looked in every room on the main floor and moved up to the second floor within two minutes. Fists balled, brows knit, and heart pounding out angry jungle rhythms, she instinctively went to the study and threw open the door, somehow sensing that her quarry was inside. Naturally, Heero was there, innocently dusting the top of the marble mantle over the fireplace. He slowed the motion of his dust rag and carefully peeked over his shoulder at her, then returned to his work. Relena seethed.

"And what sort of a day did _you_ have?" she demanded with false pleasantry, stomping up next to him and folding her arms.

Heero stopped dusting and only half-turned towards her. "Fairly ordinary, m'lady."

"Was it now?" she hissed. "Well, I...you.....we were...I saw....." She sputtered and spat, and waved an angry finger at him, but she couldn't form the words she wanted to say. She could feel her face turning red, and had to abort the mission. "Please prepare tea for Pegan and myself in the drawing room," she blurted out, a second or so before turning on her heel and flying back out of the study at top speed. Heero didn't have the energy to guess what she was angry about.

After Relena fled to the other end of the hall, she stopped and leaned back against the red paisley wallpaper and sighed. _What's the matter with me? I choked! I panicked! Why couldn't I let him have it!?_ Slowly, she brought both hands up to her face and sighed, bending her head down towards the dusty carpet. Heero did not add up, and just when she desperately needed to understand him, she still couldn't understand herself.

**********  
  


The odd exchange with Relena bounced off Heero very easily, for all the compartments in his brain were full with other problems. After delivering tea and biscuits to the drawing room, he landed in the kitchen, where Duo was sitting alone in his chef's gear, staring at the kitchen table with his arms folded. Sitting on the table was the little key Giorgenson had given him. Duo had done a good job of putting aside his concerns during the ceremony, but now that it was finished, they were bubbling to the surface.

"What do you figure they'll do to him?" he asked without looking up.

Heero was at an unpleasant loss. "We can't be sure they'll do anything to him. He could be perfectly safe."

"Yeah, but the way he was talking outside the church...he wouldn't be all worried and serious like that if he didn't expect something bad to happen." Duo reached out and pushed the key around on the tabletop, tilting his head to the side. "He thought he was gonna die. The biggest threat in the whole room was sitting right next to him. I just wish I knew..."

It was sad, watching Duo fret over someone he hardly knew, but who went out of his way to help him when he needed help the most. Heero walked up behind his chair, draped his arms down around the boy's neck, and rested his chin on the top of Duo's head. Duo left the key alone in favour of holding on tightly to those arms, and soon pulled Heero down futher to nuzzle his neck, drawing strength from his best and sweetest source of comfort. With determination and a little luck, they felt they could probably figure out just what the key was for, but there was no guarantee that it would help save the Professor from an uncertain fate. It might already have been too late.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


_Next, in Episode Fifty-Seven: The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Giorgenson's key unlocks the deadliest of secrets when the boys go off in search of answers, both to the mysteries of their lives and to the connection between Lord Jeffrhyss and Count Khushrenada._

We're going to release a LONG page of historical notes to go with this, because such a huge event has a lot of details to go through. Keep watching my main page, and in the mean time, I'd like to declare this other site to be required reading: http://www.westminster-abbey.org The official site. =^_~= This has fabulous interior panoramic views of the cathedral, and I think you should all take a look. Apart from that, next episode will be on August 19th. See you then!


	57. Mystery of the Lacquered Box

**Warnings:** Sexually-suggestive...stuff. Nothing major...actually, there was some of the same kind of stuff last week, and I just forgot to mention it. =9_9'= I should also add that this episode contains facts that were theoretically ready to be released a year ago, but I chose to put it off because of 9/11. It actually worked out for the best, because it makes a lot more sense revealing it now, with extra background worked up to it.

**Disclaimer:** My current defence against any corporate lawyers who might decide to beat down my door and present a "cease and desist" order from BanDai is that I've been working on this for a WHOLE YEAR now, and if they even **tried** to shut me down, they'd have hordes of angry fans swarming all over them and plucking out each and every one of their body hairs, one by one by one. Right guys? *looks expectantly at her readers* ... *crickets chirp* ... =o_o;= *gulp* Uh...right? =D

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Fifty-Seven: Mystery of the Lacquered Box

_"Fate leads the willing and drags along the unwilling." ~Seneca, "Epistulae ad Lucilium" _

August 19th, 1902

Following his miraculous return to England, Milliardo enjoyed, or at least tolerated, day after day of astonished visitors encompassing friends of the family, military personnel, members of the press, and the simply curious. Everyone wanted a look at the man who had trekked halfway across a continent shrouded in mystery with nothing but a compass and his wits to get him by. Quite a lot of unmarried young ladies came to visit as well, several accompanied by one or more parents who thought Milliardo would make a splendid suitor for their little angels, but Lucrezia was quick to smile and sit next to him at every public appearance, silently thwarting them. Milliardo was secretly grateful for that.

Once the steady flow of well-wishers began to ebb, the young heir was ready to take charge of the estate, as his father had wished. The first order of business, since everything else seemed to have been running smoothly before his arrival, was to find this mysterious cache of gold mentioned in passing by Treize. Nowhere in Lord Peacecraft's will was there even the slightest hint of the gold's existence, but a short dig through the carpenter's vegetable garden that hit something solid less than a foot deep was rather suspicious. While the weather was fairly pleasant, evacuation work began.

Milliardo stood off to the side with Otto, quietly observing as the outside contractors dumped shovelfuls of dirt, clay, and weeds on a tarpaulin. A two-foot-wide ditch was being dug out around what appeared to be a pillar of gold, and bars were bring brought out one by one to be weighed, catalogued, and boxed up for transport to the bank.

"Most perplexing," Milliardo muttered, his arms sternly folded.

"Sir?" Otto inquired.

"Father never _once_ told me this gold even existed...and yet Uncle Treize knew _exactly_ where it was to be found. How?"

Otto clasped his hands behind his back and stared dolefully at the growing pile of earth and the grunting workmen. "I don't know, sir."

While they pondered the problem, the foreman of the three-man crew, a slightly pudgy fellow with a moustache and a tweed cap, stood up from his crouching position and headed towards them with a clipboard, dabbing at his brow with a tattered handkerchief. "We've uncovered nearly two hundred bars, and there looks to be a lot more," he said in a surprisingly cultured voice. "Whoever buried it knew what they were doing, too. It's _very_ neatly arranged."

Milliardo's eyes narrowed in thought. "How long has it been there? Can you tell?"

"Judging by the amount of settling, and the fine condition of the burlap covering the stack, I'd say no more than a year," the foreman estimated.

Milliardo shifted his jaw around a bit, then nodded. "Keep digging until you've uncovered it all."

"Righto," said the foreman, and he returned to his men to administer further instructions.

"Walk with me, Otto," whispered the young soldier. The pair of them strolled slowly away from the excavation site, but didn't stray too far, and didn't divert their entire attention away from the workmen. "Being so close to so much wealth would tempt almost anyone...although I still prefer hiring outsiders rather than leaving it to our own people. That's why I asked you to give all the new members of staff the day off. This is strictly a family matter."

"You think they'd pilfer from their own employer?"

"Try to understand, Otto...I left my home in the capable hands of over thirty servants, all of them loyal. Now, we have a fraction of our original staff, and the average age has dropped about ten years."

Otto smirked. "I tried to explain to Miss Relena the benefits of hiring more mature workers, but she was so insistent...it leads me to believe that she was hoping to find friends her own age, but in completely inappropriate places."

"Fine...so she has friends...but now, I can count the number of people I trust on one hand." Milliardo glanced at Arthur, who was busy several yards away, trimming hedges with his usual meekness and a pair of shears with green paint flaking off the handles. "And even so...how can I be sure?"

"But...surely you don't suspect _Arthur_ of having any part of this..."

"It's a damning piece of evidence. The gold was in his vegetable garden, and has been for up to a year, perhaps longer. It was moved from someplace, and it was moved while Treize was present. Maybe he got to him...bribed him for his help...our carpenter leads a simple life, it's not that difficult to imagine him being seduced by riches."

Otto's forehead crinkled in consternation as a multitude of traitorous possibilities flew through his mind. "Shouldn't we question him?"

Milliardo paused, in gait and in voice. "No. At least, not yet. There's still plenty of suspicion to go around, and I'm saving some for the replacement butler...what does he call himself, again?"

"...Heero Yuy," Otto grumbled.

"You don't think much of him," Milliardo observed.

Otto swallowed. Many of his opinions and suspicions about Heero had been influenced by Treize, but while those past discussions would seem to have been nullified by Treize's deception, Otto didn't know what was real and what was just a long, clever manipulation. _What do I tell him? What should I keep from him? I didn't need Treize's help in deciding Heero was up to no good, but he did convince me the boy was downright dangerous...and told me not to contact the authorities. Maybe the lad still is dangerous...but while I hate to admit it, he hasn't done anything to harm or even frighten Relena. Of course, that doesn't mean he never will...ye gods, I don't know what's what anymore. Better not overcomplicate matters._ "We don't let our personal feelings influence our working relationship. Nevertheless, I can't deny that he's highly efficient, and has been serving the household very well."

Milliardo smiled wistfully at Otto's reserved and guarded answer. He could hardly complain, since he himself was also holding back his thoughts about Heero, especially the fact that the boy knew where Pegan had been for the last two years. Treize knew something vitally important about Bridlewood that Milliardo didn't. Heero knew something vitally important about Bridlewood that Milliardo didn't. That put them both on the same page, as far as he was concerned, and Heero's only redeeming quality, the one that kept his dismissal at bay, was that he hadn't done anything blatantly obvious to hurt the family. Still, trusting him was currently out of the question. "Most peculiar indeed. I'm going to be keeping an eye on that young man, Otto...and I want you to do the same."

"With pleasure, sir."

**********  
  


At the centre of the mystery, to which each one of a group of five boys was intricately connected, was a key. A small, silvery key had found its way surreptitiously into Duo's hands, and thus began the quest to find the matching lock. In a meeting, soon after the coronation, the five of them decided that if Giorgenson meant for them to have it, he also meant for them to have whatever secrets it was protecting, so the solution to the puzzle couldn't be impossible. On the other hand, if Lord Jeffrhyss and his cronies knew there were hidden treasures to be had, there would be stiff competition to see who could find them first. Despite the vague and pressing deadline, however, daily routines and household duties took up many of their collective hours, and time gradually slipped away.

Finally, and with no warning, Duo, Heero, Trowa, and Quatre were all given the day off. Not caring what the reasons were for such a lucky occurrence, they collected Wufei from Arthur's cottage and struck out on an aimless journey. Much discussion was needed before a crucial decision was arrived at, that the most logical place to begin searching would be Giorgenson's office at Oxford University. Heero treated them all to train fare and a private compartment, and away they went, kicking off the first official mission of the five-man group Duo had laughingly dubbed 'The Regents Park Irregulars.'

Travel was slowed somewhat by sightseeing and a bit of lunch, but they got to where they were going, leaving it up to Duo to actually locate the office, since only he had previously seen it. They drew one or two funny stares from the faculty, but ignored them as they wound their way through the ancient catacombs, finally arriving at a door with a plain glass window, austerely marked with the stirring words, 'Eschew Obfuscation.' Duo stepped aside after identifying the door and turned to the others. "This is it."

They all looked to either direction, checking the hallway for unwelcome rubberneckers, and found only a trickle of off-season traffic, no more than three or four people at any given moment. Still, there was a risk of being caught trespassing. Duo waited until the hall was empty before crouching in front of the doorknob to examine the keyhole.

"Does our key fit?" asked Quatre.

Duo paused. "No...I can tell just by looking at it that this door takes a different type of key."

Heero leaned a bit over Duo's shoulder for a closer look. "Can you open it?"

Slowly, the master thief stood, eyes locked on the doorknob. He grasped it, gave it a twist, and the door swung open. "Someone's picked this lock already. See the scratch marks around the keyhole? Those weren't there before."

The initial disappointment was heavy as they realized Jeffrhyss seemed to have gotten there first, but no one was ready to give up. They quickly filed inside, shut the door delicately behind them and drew the blind over the window. After taking a moment to absorb the fine furnishings and eye-catching clutter, Trowa stood in the centre of the room and folded his arms. "Where do we start?"

"Anywhere," Heero instructed. "Look for anything suspicious, anything that needs a key."

The hunt began. Carefully and methodically, the boys began dissecting the room, every cabinet, every drawer, every shelf. The silver key would not open any part of Giorgenson's desk, though that was mostly immaterial, since all the locks on it had been picked open, much like the door. There were countless mahogany shelves full of books, but not one book had been hollowed out to keep things in, and the walls behind the shelves were solid. Every chair was overturned and inspected for items tacked to the bottom, and the large upholstered sofa had its fabric joints loosened in several places, to poke curious fingers inside. They flipped over rugs, unscrewed lighting fixtures, took down paintings, and unloaded countless armloads of bizarre costumes and accessories from an adjoining room and its storage closet. They found nothing. Forty-five minutes of wanton destruction, and all they had to show for it between them were three pulled muscles and a stubbed toe.

"Ridiculous!" Wufei scoffed in frustration. "Whatever we're looking for, someone else must have found it and taken it away. This whole trip was a pointless waste of time!"

Dejected, Duo plunked himself down on the sofa and slouched deeply into the armrest. "I don't get it. He _must_ have believed we'd at least have a _chance_ of finding...whatever it is..."

"Maybe it was never here to begin with," Trowa said, sitting next to him.

Heero was still stubbornly pacing around the room, straining to take in every minute detail in the hopes of catching something they had previously missed. "This place is all we know about him. There's nowhere else we _could_ go if it wasn't here."

Several seconds of disappointed silence followed, then a soft voice cooed gently from the corner of the room, next to the liquor cabinet. "Guys? Is a cold air return vent supposed to have a lock on it?"

Four pairs of feet jumped up and ran to where Quatre was, curled up on the floor and peering at a metal grate near the baseboard. It was made of iron wrought into a filigree design, painted to match the wall, and held in place by what looked like four bolts. Upon closer inspection, however, they weren't bolts but tiny locks, one in each of the four corners, and easily missed unless one stuck one's face right up to the grate.

Duo hurriedly fished out the key and tried it in one of the locks. It turned with a click, and that corner of the grate loosened up and came away from the wall a fraction of an inch. Fingers fumbling, he quickly unlocked the other three corners and was able to completely remove the ornate screen. Only then was there a massive sigh of triumph and anticipation, times five.

"What's in there?"

"It's too dark to see. Has anyone got a match?"

"Move the sofa out of the way, let some light from the window get past."

"I don't see anything in there, do you?"

"The whole thing's longer than my arm, see?"

"This is it. This has _got_ to be it."

From an interior coat pocket, Heero produced his state-of-the-art document-burning lighter and flicked it open, holding it in front of the gaping hole. The whole niche could not have been more than eighteen inches wide and a foot tall, but it stretched back farther than the tiny orange flame could reach. Dust bunnies were huddled in quivering herds, clinging to all four sides of the crevasse and gently stirred by the influx of fresh air. It was a monumental discovery, but the visible portion was empty, and the rest of it faded into nothingness. "There could be _anything_ in there," Heero admitted.

Quatre swallowed. "One of us will have to crawl in and find out."

Dead silence.

"You big chickens," Duo clucked. "I used to crawl around in tiny spaces all the time! I'll show you how it's done!" He sat back on his haunches, took off his brown tweed jacket and flung it across the room. Everyone backed up a foot or two to give him space as he laid down on his belly and wriggled head-first into the air shaft.

"Ohhh...be careful," Quatre begged. "If you see any spiders, don't touch them! They might be poisonous!"

Duo coughed out a lungful of dust. "Yeah, thanks a lot." After a few moments, all they could see were the bottoms of his shoes, and even they were becoming dimmer the further he crawled. Duo coughed, grunted, banged his head repeatedly on the roof of the passage, almost always accompanied by a yelp and a mild curse, until finally, a small pocket of silence preceded the announcement they were all waiting for. "Hey...hey, I think I found something!"

All four outsiders quickly bunched up around the hole. "Can you tell what it is?" Heero shouted down.

They all heard shuffling, then a faint tapping. "It's cold...it's made of metal.....I think it's a box!"

"Well, hurry up and grab it before you suffocate!" Wufei ordered.

"I'm...ugh...tryin' to get ahold of it, but it's...gee _whiz_, this thing is heavy!"

As the muffled sounds of his struggling continued, Heero grew more and more anxious. There was every reason to believe that Duo knew exactly what he was doing, but it was still hard not to feel extremely protective of his little mouse. "Duo, pay attention to yourself, not the box. We can find another way to get it out of there if we have to. I know you're used to small spaces, but remember, you're not twelve years old anymore."

"Of _course_, I'm not twelve! I know that! Whaddaya think, I'm stup--" The acrid thought was left hanging amongst the dust bunnies. More anxious seconds passed. "...oh no."

Quatre gasped. "Is it a spider?"

Trowa cringed. "Is it a _rat_?"

"Oh no oh no oh no!!"

Wufei swallowed. "It's not a snake, is it? Shoo it back the other way!"

Heero bent right down and stuck his head into the vent. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"_Oh my God_!" Duo shrieked.

"What!?" the quartet yelled.

"_I'M STUCK!!_"

On a reflex, Heero uttered an impolite string of Japanese curses and reached an arm as far as he could into the vent, but the disappearing shoes were well out of reach, and Heero's own shoulders were just slightly wider than the hole would allow. With a brief but poignant grumble, he clambered back to his feet and dashed to the right to have a good look at the entire wall. Giorgenson's office was divided into two main parts, and while the grate was located in the first, the passage extended into the second. The others all reached futilely into the hole, trying to calm a very frantic Duo down, and Heero ran into the next room, flinging open the doors to the massive wall-mounted wardrobe. Sure enough, the floor of the wardrobe was raised to about the same level as the passage, and there were spooky shouts and violent bangs coming from inside. It was currently being used as a shoe rack.

"Duo!?" he shouted, dropping to his knees and thumping on the shoe rack.

"Get me _out_ of here!" came the desperate but muffled reply.

By then, Trowa had reached Heero's side, and they both ran their hands all along the wood panelling, looking for seams or fasteners. It was extremely well-built, and appeared to be solid. Heero pointed vigorously to the main office with his whole arm. "Get me that...that...paperweight, or whatever it is, off the desk!"

Trowa ran out, snatched a big, agate-like geode the size of a coconut off Giorgenson's desk, ran back, and handed it to Heero. Heero lifted the large rock over his head and slammed it down on the protruding corner of the shoe rack over and over, all the while with Duo inside, hollering, whimpering, fussing, and generally carrying on as if the passageway would soon become his tomb. After five or six heavy blows, cracks appeared in the wood, and chips began flying everywhere. Quatre and Wufei squeezed in beside him just as a sizeable chunk of wood was broken off and pulled away, revealing dusty wisps of chestnut hair and a single purple eye, stuck wide open in abject terror. Hands of iron grabbed the upper panel of wood and pulled mightily upwards, widening the crack long enough for the others to get their hands in as well. With a long, loud, splintering, gouging noise, the four of them demolished the shoe rack, revealing Duo in a cloud of dust.

Heero grabbed his mouse around the waist and hauled him up out of the filthy passage, but thrown slightly off-balance, they stumbled and crashed backwards into a pile of fur stoles and feather boas. The others hid their faces from the ensuing fog of feathers that flew up, and the only one of the four who wasn't coughing up a lung had crouched back down and was fishing a heavy metal box out of the hole. Trowa, Quatre, and Wufei evacuated with the box, leaving Duo and Heero alone to regain their bearings.

"I warned you," Heero scolded lightly, cuddling his friend and shaking the larger clumps of dust off his braid. "Didn't I warn you?"

"Yeah, yeah, shut up...next time, _you_ can crawl into the rat trap, and I'll act all self-righteous when you get out." Heero's tiny 'I told you so' smile melted away what was left of Duo's shattered bravado, and he hugged his rescuer back, taking advantage of their brief solitude to kiss his neck below the ear. "Thanks."

"Get in here, you guys! Take a look at this!"

They sighed at each other, and Heero got up first, pulling Duo up and helping him stagger back to the main office, leaving a colourful trail of stray feathers behind them. The others had placed the strange box on Giorgenson's desk and were examining it with excited interest. Trowa sat in the prominent leather chair, and four more chairs were being drawn up around the desk so they could all have a look. By virtue of being covered in grime and looking a bit like a coal miner, Duo chose a plain wooden chair instead of an upholstered one.

Before them all sat the box of mystery. It was mainly coal black with only a thin coating of dust, which Quatre was brushing off with a vivid yellow scarf from the costume room. The bottom was flat, but the four sides and top had an unusual design; the metal it was made of was moulded into intricate bas-relief sceneries with Egyptian motifs, decorated with thin pastel lacquers. There were ravens, jackals, cats, and lotus flowers, and on the top was a picture of an unnamed king and queen floating their royal barge down the Nile. In a flat spot on the front panel, there was a combination lock, and the opposite side was hinged. It seemed obvious how to open it.

"It's beautiful," breathed Quatre, pulling his chair up beside Trowa's. "Did anyone find a combination?"

They all shook their heads. Duo beckoned to Trowa with one hand. "Give it here, I'll take a crack at it." The box was placed before the substantially calmer master thief, while Heero slunk back to the office door to check on the activity level outside. Duo pressed one ear to the top of the box and dropped the fingers of his right hand on the dial with a feather-light touch. Everyone made a special effort to be quiet so he could listen to the barely perceptible clicks expected of the mechanism. After two long, slow turns of the dial, Duo lifted his head and looked confused. "...can't hear a damn thing."

"What does that mean?" Heero asked, returning to his chair between Duo and Wufei.

"It means I can't open it," Duo admitted. "If I can't hear any clicks, I won't know if I've hit the right numbers." He shook his head. "That's either the smoothest, most well-oiled lock in Christendom, or I'm losing my touch."

"_No_," Wufei snapped harshly, "nothing could sit rotting in that hole without _some_ deterioration. If you can't hear any sounds from within, there must be another reason. Let me have a look at it." The box was shifted to Wufei's side of the desk, and he studied it intently. There was a definite seam around the box an inch from the top where the lid was supposed to flip open, but it was an exceptionally tight seal, too narrow to even fit one's fingernail into. Wufei spent a good minute and a half staring at each of the four sides, then looked over at Quatre, the nearest thing to a resident expert. "What would you say is the single most important thing in the world to the Egyptians?"

Quatre blinked in surprise. "Well, I don't know that many people from Egypt, but...the Nile, I suppose. Without it, their whole civilization might never have existed."

Wufei nodded thoughtfully. "Water..." Turning the box so that the hinge faced directly away from him, he stared again at the left side and the right side. While their respective scenes were very different, a crocodile hunt in the reeds and a ritual dance of some sort, there was a person on each panel drawing water from the Nile with a golden pitcher. Wufei put two fingers on each of the little gold-painted water jugs and pushed in hard. The jugs depressed with a sharp click, and the top of the box flew open, eliciting gasps from all around the table.

Duo gaped admiringly. "Unreal! How'd you do that?"

"I've seen boxes like this before, in Chinese palaces," Wufei explained. "There's almost always some kind of dummy lock in an obvious place, so a potential thief will spend all his time trying to break in conventionally and never realize that it's actually a puzzle box."

Everyone was impressed. Duo felt around the inside of the front panel, right behind the combination lock. Just as Wufei suggested, there was no mechanism, only a dial. "Wow...I'll have to remember that one."

"Just be careful how you use it," Heero warned semi-sternly. "Now, let's see what we've got here."

The democratically-elected leader of the Regents Park Irregulars plunged both hands into the box and removed a four-inch pile of messy papers off the top of a thick stack, and spread it out over the desk. Quatre reached in next and grabbed another two handfuls of papers and scattered them in a similar fashion. Lastly, Duo emptied out the last few scraps and knocked on the bottom and sides, looking for hidden compartments, but found none. They set the puzzle box aside and were left with a massive pile of documents, photographs, newspaper clippings, letters, charts, and other miscellaneous items that were small enough to be included, such as some antique coins and a few bits of jewellry. Sorting through the mess was very much a team effort, but it was Trowa who found the crucial glue that would bind all the other elements together.

"Take a look at this," he said, indicating a thick letter-sized envelope. "Dated two weeks ago."

"...I think we can safely assume that it's meant for us." Heero gave him a curt nod of consent. "Open it."

Trowa took a letter opener from Giorgenson's top desk drawer and sliced open the envelope, while the others all ceased their shuffling activity in tense anticipation. The envelope contained a folded letter several pages thick, and clearing his throat, Trowa located page one and began to read. "It's addressed to all of us, but mostly Duo. He says...'Well, kiddo, you found my buried treasure. I knew you could do it, even if it turns out you needed a little help. I don't know where I'll be by the time you read this, but it's more important that you share this with your friends. Don't worry about anything but that.'

"'It's time you all found out why. Not the half-why, or the three-quarter-why, but the whole why. Without even knowing it, you're all connected to Lord Jeffrhyss in one way or another, and you have been for a long time, but I've been in it up to my neck longer than all of you put together, so I guess that means I win. Or lose. Depends on how you look at it.'

"'This whole mess started long before you were born, back in the days of the Civil War in the United States. Jeffrhyss and I were reasonably good friends as young people, though we had some volatile differences in the politics and philosophy department. Against my better judgement and worse language, he went off to join the war and came back with three limbs missing. As you can imagine, he didn't so much return victorious as he hobbled home all bitter and twisted, inside _and_ outside. I tried to resurrect the dregs of his humanity, but the Lincoln assassination was the proverbial last straw that snapped him in two.'

"'He became obsessed with cause and effect, and was angry at the world and fate and God and anything else you can name for destroying his life forever. Somehow, by the time that anger made its way through his mutilated sense of logic, it was bashed into a new shape, a will to control fate at any cost. Of course, fate doesn't like taking part in humanity's petty games, it has games of its own, so Jeffrhyss needed some _human_ players to join his game and battle him for supremacy. I tell you, if I'd known then what I know now, I never would have said yes.'

"'A few years after the war, we started travelling together. Because I was something resembling his only friend, Jeffrhyss let me into the game automatically, but he needed more competition. He'd gotten devious and ruthless, and that got him a lot of money to burn in the business world, which he used to fund a global search for worthy participants with sufficient drive, cunning, and wealth. Out of thousands of potential candidates, he chose three to invite into the game, and not one of them declined. The five of us chose a neutral, centralized location far from any of our home countries but with solid connections to the world economy. From then on, our headquarters were in Belgium. We called ourselves _The Cinq Association_.'"

Quatre suddenly poked around in the papers in front of him. "I think I saw something with that.....here it is." He pulled out a large, fuzzy photograph and laid it on the table for everyone to lean over. It was a gathering of five young men on the steps of some white pillared building somewhere. The man in the middle was on crutches and had one sleeve partially sewn up. On either side of him were a dark-haired lad with a puffy face and a slight potbelly, a spiky-haired gloomy-puss with his nose still intact, a tall, broad, bald man with his arms crossed, and a goofy-faced fellow with mushroom-like hair, the only one who was smiling. It was a sad little band of misfits, but their appearances were of little consequence. The handwritten caption at the bottom of the photo read 'Cinq Association inaugural meeting, Brussels.' The date was blurred and illegible.

Duo nudged Heero with his elbow. "Ever been there?" he asked solemnly. He already knew, from talking to Giorgenson, that he had indeed been in Brussels as a very young child, but he wanted to see if Heero could remember.

"Not that I'm aware of," the butler said simply. He looked questioningly at Wufei, who shook his head.

Trowa turned over to another page of the letter and kept reading. "'The goal of the Cinq Association is remarkably simple. Be the one who makes the greatest impact. The five of us have always been in direct competition to see who had the most power over fate, and once a year, our accomplishments would be measured by a neutral sixth, who would declare a winner for that fiscal year. The game was highly driven by wealth, and for a long time, our accomplishments were primarily economic. Who could make the most money on the stock market, who could build the tallest building, frivolous endeavours like that. Each financial accomplishment would fund the next one, and so forth.'

"'For the first several years, we were refining the rules of the game as we went along. One thing we decided was that we didn't want any new people added to the group, but if one of us died, it would throw the game into chaos. Also, if anyone changed his mind and wanted to bail out, that too would upset the balance. For that reason, we wrote a lifetime membership clause into the rulebook, but not specific to our own lifetimes. I can just imagine the confused look on your little peach pixie face, so I'll explain.'

"'To prevent any early, chickenly exits, it was declared that the five of us would be untouchable while playing the game. No one member could make an attempt on the life of any other member, unless they tried to quit, at which time they'd be fair game, and whichever of the remaining four got there first could kill the defector and steal his assets, with no penalty from the group. On the other hand, Jeffrhyss was mindful of his health and wanted to toss in an escape clause in case he eventually decided to retire peacefully. In addition to the anti-chicken-out policy, we set out to choose a gauge of time, a vague, unpredictable date or event in the distant future after which anyone who wished to abandon the game would be theoretically free to do so.'

"'We needed something distinct that could barely be seen on the horizon but not specifically planned for. We considered natural disasters, changes in political boundaries, technological advances, all sorts of things. In the end, we decided on world leaders--some king, queen, president or prime minister with plenty of years left on the clock would be picked at random, and when that person either died or left power, the door would be briefly opened. The first name out of the hat was Queen Vic. In the beginning, none of us thought she'd last as long as she did. She just kept going and going and going...we got used to her always being there and we got complacent. Her death snuck up on all five of us, and we simply weren't expecting it to come when it did.'"

Heero propped his elbow on the desk and rested his chin in one hand. "I wonder if this has anything to do with why I was released early."

Trowa looked at the next line and smiled. "'I'll bet any money that Heero's sitting there, wondering if this has anything to do with why he was released early.'" Duo snickered and nudged Heero again. Trowa smiled at them both, then went back to the letter. "'Tell him to sit tight, I'm getting to that.'

"'While the actual event of Victoria's death was a bit of a surprise, we knew it was coming, and I'd already told them I wanted out, so it was obvious that they'd be down to four players eventually. Little or nothing of the Cinq Association is known among 99.9% of the civilized world, but we couldn't hide our existence from everyone. The very tip of the tippy-top of society knows we're around, and there would be no shortage of hopefuls waiting to take my place if I decided to bow out. I think you've all met one of the front-runners...his name is Treize Khushrenada.'" Trowa's voice cracked and stumbled over the familiar words, and a chorus of mumblings circled the desk.

"...unbelievable," Heero hissed, militantly leaning back and folding his arms, clearly insulted. "All that training, all those high expectations of trouncing a threat to international security...and my first mission was just a ploy to scope out the competition!"

"I didn't even get _that_ much!" Wufei whined. "You wait until _you_ get passed around like a stale fruitcake, _then_ you can complain!"

"Settle down, both of you," said Quatre, who had scooted closer and was reading ahead over Trowa's shoulder. "This next part is important."

Trowa made brief eye contact with all concerned and cleared his throat again before continuing. "'The rules for new entrants are very specific, and since the club was founded on a basis of money, an entrant's finances are paramount. Anyone who wants to take my place must have fluid assets equal to the average wealth of the remaining four players.'"

"That's why he wanted Relena's gold so badly," Quatre concluded. "He needed the extra money to make his membership application!"

"But I thought he was rich already!" Duo exclaimed. "What about all those castles and stuff that he's supposed to own all over Europe? That's all any of us ever heard out of Relena before he showed up, how fabulously wealthy and important he was!"

"The rules say '_fluid_ assets'," Heero pointed out. "Maybe he couldn't liquidate enough of his property to come up with the cash."

Across the desk, Trowa made a distressed little noise, and his eyes bulged as he read several paragraphs ahead. Quatre put a hand on his shoulder instantly, alerted to his anxiety by less tangible clues, but there was no longer any room for comfort. Trowa looked up at Heero with a paralytic gaze. "It gets _worse_," he said, flipping over a page.

"'It stands to reason that no sane person would go to the trouble of constructing a massive international empire full of spies, assassins, slaves, and a multitude of hidden bases to keep them in, just for the sole purpose of financial gain. The reality is that the game stopped being all about money a long time ago. Jeffrhyss and the others grew tired of reporting simple numbers at the yearly meetings, and they sought out more concrete ways to outdo each other. It was then that the competition took a regrettable turn, as they became more and more destructive. They began measuring their achievements in terms of property damage, widespread fear, and massive loss of life. I am a witness, before you boys and before the highest law in the land, that our association, as a whole, has purposely orchestrated disasters worldwide, deliberately causing material and emotional hardship whenever possible, and recording deaths that number in the tens of thousands.'"

Everyone, even and especially Heero, was stunned. Duo swallowed and muttered something under his breath, looking down as he made the sign of the cross on his head and chest.

"'As the bar was raised more and more each year,'" Trowa continued, "'the scale of the destruction multiplied, and the body count grew. By then, I wanted out, but there was no escaping without forfeiting my own life, so I strove to play the game as badly as I could, registering pathetic 'feats' that at worst gave a few people nosebleeds or made them slightly late for work. I was also safe from being ousted until Queen Victoria died, much to Jeffrhyss' annoyance, and I took up teaching to give myself a sense of accomplishment outside the club. From the time of Her Majesty's funeral to the day that Edward was crowned, I had just enough time to settle my affairs and prepare to vanish, or prepare to be hit by sniper fire, whichever occurred first.'

"'This is the most important point of all, the one that has directly affected where you live and what you do more than any other factor. Treize wants in on the game, but Jeffrhyss strongly opposes his membership. He knows darn well that the Count is at least as devious and bloodthirsty as he is, and could probably beat him at the game several times over, but as much as Jeffrhyss seems to appreciate competition, he can't stand losing for long, and if Treize joins, he'll be in a distant second place until the day he dies.'

"'Out of the other three besides me, two would definitely vote Treize in, and one would be mostly inclined to vote alongside Jeffrhyss. Without my vote, Treize only has to buy off that one teetering member to gain entrance. _You must not allow this to happen._ Right now, Treize is relatively harmless because he has no one to show off in front of, but if he is allowed to join the Cinq Association, there will be no limits to his cruelty. I know I could have delayed all of this by not trying to leave the group to begin with, but Treize would have outlived me by many years in any case, so I'm leaving it up to you. Do whatever you have to, to prevent him from getting his foot in the door, but take care: Everyone in the club has a vast support structure, with a second-in-command, a council, and a private army. There's no reason not to believe that Treize has his own troops stashed somewhere in Europe, so if you kill him, expect retribution from his followers.'

"'I hate to burden you boys with this, I really do, but the unfortunate truth is that you were already involved and just didn't know it. Now it's up to you five to succeed where I failed miserably. Destroy Cinq before it does any more damage to the planet. Scatter them, and remove their power. If you can enter that storm and come out on the other side with your humanity intact, I'll always be proud to have known you.'" Trowa shakily put down the pages of the letter, and his voice weakened into a whisper. "That's all."

The mood was morbid. Nobody moved, nobody spoke, nothing whatsoever took place for several minutes while they all took in the demonic scope of the problem. Outside, a barking dog pierced the silence, but it went unnoticed. It was some time before Duo took it upon himself to lighten everyone up, leaning back with a forced breath and donning a thick Irish accent. "Jesus, Mary an' Joseph, if that don't put barberries in the buttermilk!" The others relaxed a bit and actually chuckled at his nonsensical interjection.

Heero laced his fingers together behind his head and exhaled tiredly. "Well...I guess we found what we were looking for. It makes a lot more sense now why Treize was so desperate to find out my master's name..."

"...so he'd know which one of the five was keeping tabs on him," Wufei finished. "I didn't know _any_ of this...I wouldn't have tried to help them if I knew..."

"Neither of you can be blamed," Quatre said soothingly. "If anything, you should both be happy that you got out when you did, before you were forced to take part in something _really_ horrible."

Trowa tapped his long fingers nervously on the desk. "So what do we do now?"

Heero stared at the photograph in deep thought. _Five of them, five of us. Not too spooky, now, is it?_ "We do exactly as we've been asked, but quietly, and carefully. We use everything we've found here to formulate a long-term plan, and salvage anything else from this office that might be useful. On the outside, we carry on as normal. It's the safest way."

With a unanimous show of hands, they voted in favour of Heero's suggestion, then voted unanimously in favour of Duo's suggestion that they grab what they could and run, before campus security started breathing down their necks.

**********  
  


Count Khushrenada needed a lot of brandies, courtesy of Lady Une, to pull himself together after his sound legal thrashing. That day, he had taken the carriage containing all of his local belongings and directed it straight across town, where he showed up on Lady Une's doorstep in a terribly forlorn state. Une, for her part, hadn't had a good romp around the bedchamber in some time, and readily welcomed him and his luggage with the understanding that all the guest rooms were 'being decorated' and there was really only one place where he could comfortably spend the night. If nothing else, that cheered Treize up in the short term.

In the long term, the Count was slowly and painfully regaining his determination to carry out his task; all that was missing was a way to do it. The Peacecraft gold was well out of reach. Other wealthy men were queueing up to take the place in the underworld which he believed was rightfully his. The people he most wanted to crush under his superior will were laughing at him, and the new dressing gown he ordered arrived two sizes too small. It was turning out to be a rotten month of August.

Frustrated, he wiled away the hours enjoying his hostess' hospitality, and on that particular evening, was lounging around in her lavish red room, so named for its obvious decorating theme. In passing, Lady Une took pity on him and slunk up behind his chair as he stared out the window at the high-class neighbourhood outside. Gathering up her costly lace and pearl dress, chosen for the way it beguiled Treize into treating her like an innocent lamb, she knelt beside the chair and leaned her head on his knee. "Isn't it amazing, how long it takes a bruised ego to heal?" she purred.

"It's not simply a question of ego, my darling...I had the perfect plan to get what I needed, and it was crushed at the last moment by fate." In a pause for reflection, Treize lifted his brandy glass for another swig with one hand, and stroked Une's soft, chocolate brown hair with the other. "But you've been a _tremendous_ comfort, make no mistake."

Une looked up at him with a broad, snakelike smile and patted his knee with both hands. "Well, I'm sure everything will be on the upswing, now that you're in the _right_ house."

Treize sighed and shook his head. "Your hospitality is truly heartwarming, but it won't get me any closer to my goal." His hand suddenly tightened around the glass, and his forked eyebrows pulled his entire forehead down towards his flame-ridden eyes. "I need money."

Une looked away coyly and ran her hand down Treize's leg to his slippered foot. "How much money?"

"I appreciate the thought, but I can't accept--"

"I mean, what if I knew where to _find_ a large enough sum of money?"

Treize's gaze turned intense, and he leaned forward on the armrest. "Tell me that again, and talk slow."

Une giggled and looked up again. "I didn't want to bring it up since we were having such a lovely time forgetting all about your troubles, but suppose I knew where you could get enough money to fund your pet project and have plenty left over to treat me to a new diamond necklace?"

One of Treize's eyebrows twitched from overwhelming avarice. "Go on."

"Well...I happen to be acquainted with a young man who's eligible for a substantial inheritance...he just needs a little outside help getting it, that's all."

Like a sudden sandstorm blanketing the desert, Treize's optimism swelled and radiated out from his newly puffed-up chest. He stood and put the brandy glass down, then extended a hand to Lady Une, pulling her to her feet. "Why don't we discuss this somewhere more comfortable?" he suggested smoothly. "I suddenly feel a surge of positive energy coming on."

They vanished from conventional sight together, and would not be seen again for several hours.

**********  
  


Late that night, Duo treated himself to a long, hot bath, longer than normal for him, and thoroughly eliminated every last trace of grime from his person. He found it odd but likable that he was so averse to the layers upon layers of dust and dirt he picked up in Giorgenson's office. In the past, he spent nearly all of his time at least fairly filthy, for life on the streets made simply being clean a frequently unattainable luxury. Now he was used to clothes that fit properly and didn't have holes in all the wrong places, hair that smelled nice and was soft instead of scraggly, and only having bits of pastry dough under his fingernails, instead of a month's worth of dirt. He liked it a lot.

When he had finished scrubbing, he stepped out of the claw-footed bathtub and wrinkled his nose at the colour of the water he left behind. It was a mercy that the family had gone out to a restaurant for dinner that night, unless they really would have liked a double helping of dust bunny soufflé. He dried himself off and wrapped himself in his latest mail-order acquisition, a fluffy white bathrobe from a specialty firm in Manchester. It was wonderfully thick and squishy, and even had the initials 'D.M.' embroidered on the front breast pocket. He reasoned that he had paid his dues several times over in life already, and deserved a little pampering.

Padding from the ensuite bath back into the bedroom, he expected to be alone, since Heero still had a day's worth of work to catch up on; it suited Duo fine, because he still needed to comb his hair out and rebraid it for the night. He sat cross-legged on the bed and began sorting out the strands with his fingers, but was suddenly surprised by Heero walking in and shutting the door behind him. "Hey! Thought you had stuff to do. Done already?"

Heero leaned against the door for a moment before running a hand through his hair and tugging at his tie. "Somehow polishing Royal Doulton figurines seems a little insignificant today."

Duo laughed. "I know what you mean." Without thinking much of it, he leaned over to his bedside table looking for a comb and immediately yelped in pain, grabbing at his lower back.

Heero walked right over, slipping off his jacket and draping it over the writing desk chair along the way. "Daijoubu?"

"Yeah, yeah, I just...dangit!" The chef grimaced and tiredly straightened up as far as he could. "I must've pulled every muscle I own in that stupid vent. My back feels like it's been walked on by every elephant in every zoo in a five hundred mile radius."

As Heero stood there watching Duo stretch an arm over his left shoulder and try vainly to get the pesky kinks out, a peculiar expression washed over his face, as he spotted a priceless opportunity. He rolled up his sleeves, slipped off his shoes, and helped himself to the empty spot on the bed right behind Duo, slapping his arm away. "Leave this to the professional."

At first, Duo tensed up defensively, not knowing what Heero had in mind. No explanation was given or needed, however, as Heero clamped both hands on the spots on either side of Duo's neck and pressed firmly into the white bathrobe with his thumbs, massaging his upper back. Duo squeaked, then slouched happily, as the stress of the day seemed to fly right out the open window. "Whoa...where's _this_ coming from?"

Heero shrugged. "Just one more part of what I was trained to do." He suddenly found the luscious white fabric rather cumbersome, and tried to pull it down off Duo's shoulders. Duo inhaled nervously, wondering exactly where Heero intended to stop and remembering that he wasn't wearing a stitch underneath the robe. To a mixture of relief and disappointment, Duo realized that Heero only wanted to uncover his back; he pulled his arms out of the sleeves and quickly gathered all his hair across his chest, out of the way. Duo shivered all over and smiled as Heero's deft hands worked out every knot and soothed every ache. They had been close on the camping trip, but not quite _this_ close.

"Mmm.....what sort of rating did Frenchy give this massage?" Duo asked, referring to the touchy subject of the practice girl from Heero's training days.

Heero smirked. "Five stars," he said proudly.

"And to think, people all over are spending good money for health spas and nature retreats. I'm getting both at a bargain price!" They both laughed a little, but Duo soon forgot where and when he was, completely lost in warmth and pressure. There was only the slightest nagging worry in the back of his brain that had been asking the same questions for the past several weeks, such as what exactly had triggered such a dramatic change in Heero's behaviour. Duo knew something about him was very different lately, but he didn't have the courage to ask the reasons in case the extra attention and affection suddenly stopped as a result. Still, he was awfully curious, and decided to slowly approach the subject from an oblique angle. "You seem...a lot more relaxed than you were a year ago. What's your secret?"

"I'm more at peace with my past, for a start," Heero offered easily. "Maybe my perspective has changed from living here, and maybe I do hate Jeffrhyss for his teaching methods, and the purposes for which I was being taught..." He leaned a little closer to Duo's ear, stopping just short of a kiss. "...but I like what I've learned." His hands gradually moved down and began manipulating Duo's lower back, to a continued chorus of appreciative little moans.

"That's awfully philosophical of you, 'specially considering what we heard today."

"I suppose I could turn bitter and resentful over being a pawn in a juvenile contest of wills," Heero thought out loud, "but I've gained a great deal in the process. Right now, I know _ten times_ what ordinary people learn their entire lives. I've come to think of it as severance pay."

Duo hummed cheerily. It didn't quite answer his question, but to be honest, he didn't quite ask it. Soon, he had forgotten what the question was altogether, and instead let his eyes glaze over as his hand drifted to an object that had tagged along all the way from Oxford, clinging to his clothes--a bright blue feather. It was lying innocently on the bed, and had probably wafted over when he undressed for his bath. Duo picked it up and covertly ran it over his closed lips, encouraging the added sensations to mingle with those of Heero's exquisitely-crafted back rub. The hands of iron that had saved him from the grungy abyss were not incapable of becoming sweetly soft to the touch, and that was what Duo loved about them. He became quickly intoxicated, the heavy revelations all catching up with him and dragging his eyelids down, until he fell asleep, peacefully leaning back against Heero's chest and wrapped securely in his arms.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


_Next, in Episode Fifty-Eight: Treize and Lady Une make an announcement that sends Dorothy and Relena both reeling, but for different reasons, and Quatre is pressured for classified information by an unlikely party._

I know, I know, I'm delinquent in the historical notes _again_...I promise I'll get caught up, I will I will I will! =^o^= You know how it is, work, family, stuff...eh, whatever. So! *DUN DUN DUN* The plot sickens, as my old boyfriend would say. It took me eighteen months to come up with that. Hope it's cool enough. =^_~= Don't worry, though, there's more on the horizon! Next episode will be out on August 30th. I know that seems like a long time, but I'm gonna be tied up for this whole weekend coming up and won't be able to get any writing done. You've waited that long before, you know you have! *lol*


	58. Transference

**Disclaimer:** My current defence against any corporate lawyers who might decide to beat down my door and present a "cease and desist" order from BanDai is that I've been working on this for a WHOLE YEAR now, and if they even **tried** to shut me down, they'd have hordes of angry fans swarming all over them and plucking out each and every one of their body hairs, one by one by one. Right guys? *looks expectantly at her readers* ... *crickets chirp* ... =o_o;= *gulp* Uh...right? =D

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Fifty-Eight: Transference

_"Obstacles are those frightful things you see when you take your eyes off the goal." ~Hannah More _

August 30th, 1902

There seemed to be an abundance of something at Bridlewood that the residents had not had the joy of experiencing for several weeks, if not months--feeling normal. It was pretty much accepted that nothing in the house would be exactly the same as it was before the war, but they were closer to that state of innocence than they had been for a long time. That is to say, the _family_ felt normal; half the staff, however, felt decidedly strange, and at times, more than a little fearful for the state of the world.

Relena, Milliardo, Lucrezia, and Dorothy were all having fairly normal mornings together, nibbling at breakfast in the parlour and having nice, normal discussions about nice, normal things. Milliardo acted far less suspicious of Dorothy than he actually was; he only had his sister's word that the Baroness was trustworthy, and Relena herself was quite a different person now. Opting to give them both the benefit of the doubt, at least for a little while, he waited for a concrete reason to disbelieve them.

Partway through their morning meal, Otto entered with a knock, carrying a few bits of mail. "Bank statement, sir," he said blandly, bringing a crisp envelope to Milliardo's side.

"Thank you, Otto," said Milliardo, extricating the latest report on their financial situation and glancing over it with satisfaction. He had been most surprised when Relena had agreed with him whole-heartedly that the mystery gold should be saved and invested instead of spent upgrading their lifestyle. Contained in the envelope was confirmation that their portfolio was in order, locked away in a safety deposit box, and that the gold itself was secure in the bank's main vault. "Everything is as it should be," he mused, looking up at his sister. "Are you absolutely sure you don't want to splurge just a little bit? To celebrate?"

"Yes, why not?" Dorothy chimed in. "Treat yourself to a full beauty treatment, or a new dress!"

Relena smiled, blushed, and swallowed her bite of buttered scone with some surprised difficulty. "It's alright, really. I look just fine the way I am, and I have plenty of dresses."

The men looked at each other, bewildered.

Otto cleared his throat. "There's also a bill here from the glazier's to cover the damage done to Sutherby House during the last hailstorm."

He was about to hand the bill to Milliardo as well, but Relena's hand shot up as she sipped her tea with the other hand. "I'll take that one, Otto."

Again, the men stared at each other in confusion. The girl certainly _had_ changed. Otto gave her the envelope obediently and clasped both hands in front of him, turning back to her brother. "There was also a telegram for you, sir. Brigadier Hamilton insists you remain on extended leave for as long as you like."

"That's good of the army, isn't it?" Dorothy opined as Otto yanked the bellpull to have the breakfast dishes taken away.

Milliardo frowned. "I constantly beg them not to give me any special treatment because of who my father was, but I have a feeling I'm getting it anyway."

"Don't be disparaging!" Relena demanded, smiling. "It's been perfectly lovely having you here, and I'll be glad to keep you as long as I can, no matter what the reason."

"I must say, it _has_ been a great relief, sir," Otto agreed.

"And I'll throw myself in front of the Brigadier's carriage if he tries to take you back too soon," Lucrezia said jokingly, wrapping her arm around his.

Milliardo was touched by the sentiment, and tried less than successfully to hide that fact. Just when he thought he was going to have to stand up and make an embarassingly self-indulgent speech to them all, Pegan entered to answer the ring of the bell, followed by Heero. The elderly gentleman had been reinstated as head butler by order of the new man of the house, and Heero had been demoted to deputy, with his pay knocked back to his original grade. Truthfully, Heero didn't mind. He needed to be a little more careful with his money anyway, and the slight decrease in duties would leave more time to organize his new team.

"Your newspaper, sir," Pegan announced in his soft, dignified voice, giving the folded sheaf of newsprint to Milliardo while Heero began collecting trays and dishes.

"Oh." Relena looked up, acting hard-done-by. "I couldn't possibly...take a quick run through it first, could I?"

Milliardo held up the newspaper with surprise. "This?"

Relena bounced up out of her plush chair and tripped daintily over to the sofa, where she snatched the paper out of her brother's hands and proceeded to dissect it thoroughly. "I just want the _tiniest_ peek at the world news...and maybe the financial pages...and if I have time, the editorials...open letters...letters to the editor..." The men stared at each other a third time, only now the gazes were twice as odd and twice as many. When Relena was finished tearing out pages for herself, all that was left for her sibling were births, deaths, and the agony column. She handed over the dregs with a sweet smile. "Thank you!"

Milliardo turned the page over twice, then cleared his throat at her as she trotted back to her seat. "_One_ page?"

Distracted from the front page headlines, Relena turned and looked innocent as could be. "What are you complaining about? You never used to read the papers _before_..."

"Nor did you, dear."

Otto leaned down, turning away from the girl, and whispered in the young man's ear. "I should take what you've been given, sir, if you don't want to spark _another_ war."

With a sigh, the bedraggled brother leaned back and started reading his ration, unsure even _if_ he would be granted another. Lucrezia looked at his pathetic expression and laughed.

"So, Pegan," said Dorothy, demanding some of the attention for herself, "how do you find your young assistant?" Covertly, she threw a mean, catty smile at Heero as he leaned over her side table to stack her dishes onto an already precarious tray. Heero saw the look, and ignored it.

"Most efficient, Madam Baroness," Pegan replied with a bow.

"And you're back in the _private_ butler's quarters on the main floor? How lovely! A rather luxurious suite for a servant, though, wouldn't you say?" She smirked at Heero again, apparently too lazy to ever find out that he was no longer housed in the dingy, drafty attic. A valiant effort kept Heero from smirking back as he carried the tray away.

"I would graciously accept _any_ accommodation offered to me," Pegan said in a kind tone. "It was very good of Miss Relena to keep my old room for me." He turned slightly and bowed a second time, in Relena's direction. "Again, many thanks."

A little slow on the uptake because of all the exciting news in the paper, Relena took a few seconds longer than normal to glance up and smile in recognition. Across from her, oddly engrossed in his one measly page, Milliardo grunted and squinted at something halfway down on the right hand side, in the announcements column. He appeared greatly perplexed.

"Something the matter?" Lucrezia asked, slipping her feet out of her shoes and tucking them up next to her on the sofa.

"Who was that awful brunette woman who used to be over here at every opportunity, to bait mother into an argument about class divisions?" Milliardo asked of the room.

Relena slapped down the paper and scowled at him. "You mean Lady Une?"

"..._yes_..." He nodded, in deep thought. "I thought the name looked familiar."

"What's she done now?" Relena growled, dreading what top members of the nobility she had lured into her brass and teak dining room for a well-publicized feast.

Milliardo leaned away a little to his left as Heero appeared on Lucrezia's right to load up with her dishes. Being of a kind nature, she helped him stack the plates and cups, and made room on his burden for the sugar bowl. Milliardo ignored them. "She hasn't done anything, yet...I was only casually wondering how she knows Uncle Treize."

Relena blinked. "Well...yes, I knew they were acquainted..."

Milliardo folded his page in half, and half again, putting the pertinent news item on top in plain view. "They're more than acquainted. They're getting _married_."

Almost everyone gasped. Heero, who was nearly at the door, on his way out with the tray of dishes, stopped in his tracks and had a bodily convulsion so violent that his arms shook the mega-tray enough to knock over the sugar bowl and spill part of its contents on the hardwood floor. All eyes snapped to him, startled by the noise, and he turned a bit and side-stepped away, looking at the group in a daze. Milliardo, Lucrezia, and Dorothy forgot him immediately and began chattering amongst themselves in shocked tones, but Relena stared. Her natural anger and confusion at the concept of Lady Une becoming her aunt was overshadowed by the amazing revelation that Heero was even more shaken by the news than she was.

Heero was slow to leave, listening intently to the heated conversations about the couple-to-be, but a sharp glare from Otto sent him scurrying from the room, after glaring at Otto with double the ferocity. It all made Relena think, and she thought so hard that she just about sprained her brain trying to understand. Her eyes followed Heero out of the room, narrowing into tiny slits. _You know something, don't you?_

The frantic exchange of ideas was carrying right on without her. Otto and Pegan were both explaining to Lucrezia what sort of scene-stealing, rouge-wearing woman Lady Une was, and Dorothy was muttering quietly but furiously to herself in Italian, wringing two great handfuls of pastel satin in her white-knuckled hands. Relena thought that was very odd, too. _If I didn't know better, I'd say Dorothy looked insanely jealous...but how can that be? Could she have been infatuated with Uncle Treize all this time and not told me?_

"...Relena? ....._Relena?_"

The girl's head whirled back around as her brother's concerned voice cut a swath through the dark jungle of her thoughts to bring her back to attention. "Hm?"

"You're awfully quiet. Are you feeling unwell?"

"Uh..." She had every right to feel unwell, but it was everyone's reaction to the news that was to blame, so much more than the news itself. Her mind was suddenly a blank, and she sat frozen with her mouth hanging open until Heero returned with a dustpan and hand brush, all ready to sweep up the sugar as slowly as possible to maximize eavesdropping time.

Before he got anywhere near the pile of sugar, however, Otto stepped in front of him, snatched the cleaning implements from his hands, and advanced on him, all menacing and bear-like, until he had backed the boy right out the door again. Otto shut the doors in Heero's peeved face and huffed quietly to himself. "...nosy."

Relena laughed nervously. "Me? Oh, I'm fine! I'm wonderful! Couldn't be happier for them! Would you excuse me for a moment?" She got up and took her humourless smile around Otto, who had stooped to sweep up the sugar himself, out the door and into the hall, too quick to be stopped by anyone.

She paused, to make sure no one tried to follow her and offer some vacant words of useless comfort, and went looking for Heero. He wasn't difficult to find; the clattering and clinking of dishes drew her right to the door of the servants' kitchenette off the dining room. Very, very quietly, she pushed open the swinging door and saw her quarry, spooning out the rest of the tainted sugar from the bowl to the bin with jerky, fitful movements. He appeared much more agitated by the situation than an ordinary butler should have been. Relena wondered if she could make him jump, and coughed lightly.

Heero didn't jump, but did manage to glance briefly over his shoulder and go straight back to his work. Relena took a few steps forward, with her hands clasped behind her. "Problem?" she asked dryly.

The boy turned around with a pasted-on look of peace and contentment, tapping the rim of the sugar bowl lightly with the spoon. "Not really...after all, we can afford it."

"Not the sugar, the engagement," she said sharply, getting right to the point. "I know you didn't get along perfectly with my uncle, but why should _you_ care if he's getting married?"

Heero shrugged. "I don't."

Relena sneered as he turned away to load the dishes into the dumbwaiter. "Yes you do, you're reeling from it! You can't hide behind your work and pretend it doesn't bother you, everyone can _see_ that it does!"

It was a safe bet, in Heero's mind, that 'everyone' had long forgotten his minor display of surprise, although he _was_ rather disappointed in himself for it. "I caught my toe in the fringe on the rug, that's all," he said, lowering the wooden capsule down to the kitchen with the worn rope and pulley system. Once it hit bottom, he turned to leave the kitchenette, but Relena stepped out and blocked his path.

"There's something strange going on with my uncle," she began with an eerie kind of calm, "something more than just trying to rob my family, and don't ask why, but I think you know what it is. Now that I'm looking back on it all with a clearer head, it's more than what I just saw you do, it's everything you've done since the day we met. You don't make any sense, Heero. You don't fit."

In the time it took to blink twice, Heero assessed the risk levels of the situation and resorted to a well-used technique that had a decent success rate for bamboozling the girl without a lot of fuss. His stern features melted into a divine, heavy-lidded smile, and his voice became softer than a gust of wind too weak to move a feather. "I'm sorry," he purred, crinkling his eyes the tiniest bit to show that he was serious. "I never wanted to upset you. I only reacted to the news when I thought about how devastated you might be...you know I couldn't bear to see you unhappy..." During his quaint little speech, while her eyes were transfixed by his, he reached behind her left hand with his right, lightly touching the inside of her wrist and dragging his fingers slowly and teasingly up the back of her arm as far as the elbow.

Unexpectedly, Relena took a giant step back. The charming tricks he once used to bend her to his will were now completely and utterly useless. She was immune. "I don't believe you," she said, "and I may never believe you ever again." With that, she turned and left. Heero felt like he was in a surreal dreamland after that, and paced around the kitchenette with his hands in his pockets for quite some time, wondering whether or not he should care.

**********  
  


Not long after Relena excused herself from the parlour, Dorothy felt the need to escape as well. Both Treize and Lady Une were supposed to be her business partners, though on totally separate projects, and now Dorothy was getting the distinct feeling of being shut out. Had Treize blabbed to Une about the Peacecraft gold? Had Une squealed to Treize about the Winner tontine? Or had they found an even more profitable venture and decided to cut Dorothy out of the loop? She had to know.

She fled the parlour and paced frenetically around the foyer in front of the grand staircase, thinking. _I have to find out what they're up to! It must be a sham wedding! Une told me she'd never marry Treize until she was the wealthier of the two! I'll go down to her house in person! ...no, I can't talk to them at the same time or they might find out they were both being double-crossed. I'll send Une a telegram! ...no, Treize might receive it by mistake, and I know how he loves reading other people's correspondence. I'll bribe a stranger to peek in the windows and spy on them! ...no, they both know that trick...I'll use the telephone! I'll telephone the house and whoever picks up the line, that who I'll have it out with first! Yes!_

Maddened by her own addlepated thought process, she dashed around the corner and sat quickly down next to the Chippendale table in the north hall, leaving loud skid marks under the chair. She picked up the earpiece, smacked its cradle several times, and gave pointed, desperate instructions to the bothersome, tinny voice of the operator. It wasn't long before Dorothy had her answer.

"_Busy!?_ How can it be busy!? I'm _very_ important to the people at the other end! I _demand_ that you bump whoever's wasting their time and put _me_ through at _once_!"

The tinny voice blathered in dull, uninterested tones.

"All _morning_!? ...no, I will _not_ try again later! This can't possibly wait! .....well, _you're_ the telephone company, can't you put _my_ call through now and then put the other people back on when I'm finished?"

The tinny voice began questioning its years of education just to listen to aristocrats whine.

"Well, that's a stupid way to run a telephone service! Let me speak to your manager! I'm a paying customer and I demand satisfaction! You lower-class plebs think you can just walk all over me and.....hello? Hello?" Dorothy looked at the earpiece that had just made the offensive clicking noise in utter appallment. "_Oh! Really!_" She slammed it back down on the cradle, got up, and stomped all the way upstairs to her luxury suite, throwing herself on the bed in frustration.

_All of upper-crust London must be calling to congratulate them. They could be tied up for days._ Despondently, she reached up behind her head, grabbed one of her baby blue ruffled pillows, and dragged it on top of her face, sighing deeply into it. _This is a nightmare..._

**********  
  


It was the third day straight of tiddling, dabbling, drizzling rain, but Quatre wouldn't be dissuaded from going out shopping when it was for something he really, really needed. Having no umbrellas of their own, he and Trowa ventured out and drenched themselves in search of bow rosin. Outdoor duties always seemed to slow down in the rain, so for two whole hours, neither one of them was severely missed.

Though they came back sopping wet, they had obtained the priceless little tin of rosin Quatre needed to keep his even more priceless violin in top working order. Even after changing into drier clothes, they still felt soaked, so rather than track two little clouds of humidity into the kitchen, they flopped on their respective beds to await the call to lunch.

They stared at the ceiling of their joint bedchamber without uttering a sound for several peaceful minutes. "It's so _quiet_ in here," Trowa remarked.

"Yeah," Quatre slurred through an uncharacteristically devilish grin, "ain't it great?"

Trowa propped himself up on his elbows and smirked at his companion. "You're not sorry they're gone?"

"Of course I am!" Quatre countered. "But still...it _was_ getting crowded in here. I'm not too worried, as long as they're in England they're probably a _lot_ safer than they would be at home." His voice trailed off and he looked to his left, where a broad green leaf sat on the bedside table since being dropped near Hessa as she strolled through a public garden days before. It was another message in code, already beginning to pale and wither, but it still bore the clearly-printed '21' written in blood, symbolizing how many of the Winner siblings were still in the hunt. The death toll was climbing. "None of us should stop living because of what _might_ happen."

They only had a moment or two to ponder the bitter realities of existence before a knock came at the door. No longer afraid to welcome visitors into their sparsely populated bedroom, they got up, brushed themselves off a bit, and answered the door. It was Bethany, acting as a messenger. "Madam wants to see _you_ right away, in the drawin' room," she said to Quatre.

The blond boy paled. "Uh...which 'madam' was it?"

Bethany scowled. "Miss Relena, o'course, who d'you think?"

Relieved that he wasn't being summoned by Dorothy, Quatre exhaled sharply, then looked down at his shabby work clothes in despair. "Oh...but I'm in no condition to be upstairs, not wearing _this_..."

"Madam says come as you are, an' no dilly-dallying," the housemaid snapped impatiently. She waited while the boys shrugged uselessly at each other, tapped her foot impatiently while Quatre took off his muddy shoes, and led him upstairs to the drawing room, stocking feet and all.

Quatre still felt so unworthy being in the upper part of the house. Despite being brought up for the lifestyle of a prince, playing the part of a lowly servant for the past two years or so had made such an impact on his personality that he didn't know any other way to behave, at least in that house. He knocked very meekly on the drawing room doors and they shifted slightly, apparently having been left unlatched. Swallowing compulsively, he poked just a piece of his head inside. "Miss?"

"I'm going to get very cross if you don't start calling me by my name," a sweet, honeysuckle voice said.

Quatre squinted. It sounded like Relena, and yet it didn't sound like Relena. He stepped all the way into the room and saw a girl on one of the plush sofas, facing away from him and slightly towards a very small, smouldering fire in the fireplace. The girl looked like Relena, and yet didn't look like Relena. She wore a white lace gown styled for a girl much younger than herself, and her hair was pulled back into a childlike rope of golden silk. As he got closer and snatched a look at her from the side, he saw that she was actually wearing a tiny hint of rouge, and her bangs were fluffed up very artistically. There was even some dark, glittery stuff accentuating her eyelids. The dress and the hair made her appear innocent and frail, but her made-up face made her look about five years older.

"You...wanted to see me?" squeaked the gardener.

"Come sit next to me," the strange girl invited warmly.

Even from four feet away, Quatre could feel that Relena wasn't quite right. He didn't honestly know what made him sit down instead of running a mile in the other direction, but by the time he sank into the squishy velvet fabric it was much too late to do anything about it. He looked over at Relena and smiled as she twirled a lock of hair around her finger, then looked straight ahead, waiting for further instructions.

"I suppose you've heard by now...about Uncle Treize..."

Quatre had discussed several possibilities with the other boys regarding Treize, and they all flooded his brain at once, but no one concept outweighed any other concept. "No."

Relena's shoulders slumped. "He's going to marry Lady Une. You remember her, don't you? She's come by to visit a few times...you've probably seen her in the garden at one of my parties."

_Oh, I know her alright...but not the way you think._ "I think so." He twiddled his thumbs idly. "Does that upset you? Him getting on with his life so quickly after leaving?"

Relena sighed suddenly and touched a pale hand to her forehead. "Ohhh...I've been going out of my _mind_ ever since I found out! I just _know_ Uncle Treize is up to something! He won't be satisfied after the way I threw him out! He's somehow going to use this engagement to get back at me!" She shivered and whimpered, choking out a few short sobs and finally tossing her rumpled head on Quatre's shoulder.

Quatre could feel a frazzled fog of emotion leaking right through his shirt and waistcoat where her head rested, but it was too much to sort through. He couldn't tell whether she was really upset or being melodramatic, and also felt a growing tension in his own overloaded nervous system at her physical closeness. If Otto caught them in that position, he'd likely have Quatre's head on a proverbial platter. He swallowed and glanced back at the door. "Do you want me to go get Doris or Lucy so you can talk to one of them about this?" he asked.

"No...I feel better just talking to you...in fact, I _miss_ talking to you. I just wish..." She laughed lightly and snuggled up a little closer, kicking her feet up on the unused portion of the sofa. "Oh, never mind, it's so silly."

The snuggling part was making Quatre more than a little uncomfortable, and desperate for a distraction, he pressed her for more information. "No, go ahead. What were you going to say?"

Relena licked her lips and stared straight into the fire. "I wish I knew what else could be happening in this house that my uncle could use against us, and I _mean_ 'us,' because you're just like family to me. You know that, don't you?"

Quatre mumbled in the affirmative and looked at the ceiling.

"And because we're like family, it's doubly important that we look out for each other, I think. I mean, if I ever heard about something that could be bad for you, I'd tell you about it right away, because I want what's best for you. See what I mean?"

"...I suppose..." Very unexpectedly, Relena reached across Quatre's lap, grabbed his farthest hand, and sat their hands together on his knee, closely interlocked with her thumb gently stroking the backs of his fingers. Quatre squirmed. "Um..."

"There's something going on here," she cooed in her highest, meekest, most pitiable voice, "and I'm terrified that it's something my uncle can take advantage of! Heero's involved too, I can sense it somehow, and since you two talk once in a while, I wondered if he might have said something, anything that might give me some _clue_ about what to expect. It may be nothing, but I just don't know! Can't you see how awful it is for me, having to wait for the axe to fall and not even being able to guess where it's going to hit?"

"N-no! I mean...yes! I mean...I don't know! Why are you asking me!?"

Relena sat up and pressed herself against him, dragging her hand up the back of his arm all the way to his shoulder and stopping there, clinging to him like a lifeboat in a torrential sea. "I'm asking _you_ because I know _you_ will tell me the truth! You've never, ever lied to me, and there's so few people left in my life who can say the same! So just do this one _tiny_ thing for me...if it's nothing, I won't worry about it, but I just want to know _what_ it is that Heero's involved in! Does it have anything to do with Uncle Treize, or the way he manipulated me? _Please_ tell me! Even if you're involved too, I won't be angry with you, I promise!"

As a grand culmination of her speech, she fluttered the hand she kept on his shoulder, pulling it around the side of his neck and down the front of his shirt. That was all he could stand. Quatre leapt off the sofa, nearly tipping Relena over onto the floor in the process, tugging the two halves of his waistcoat together in a subconscious attempt to hide his form. "I have to go!" he yelped apologetically, backing up into a chair and yelping again. "I've got a...a very sick ficus plant in the conservatory that needs attention right away!"

Relena perched right on the edge of the sofa and swivelled at the waist to watch him leave, panting and sweating and wiping the palms of his hands on his trouser legs. When he was gone, she sat back, folded her arms and thought. As far as she could tell, she made all the right moves..._so...why didn't it work? It's possible he really doesn't know anything, but I think he does. He can't spend as much time with Heero as he does and not know what he's really doing here. Maybe I should have practised in front of the mirror more..._

**********  
  


"No one in the stairwell," Duo said from the foot of the servants' stairs.

"No one in the back yard," Trowa said from the back door.

"No one in our room," Quatre said from his bedchamber door.

"No one in the pantry or the scullery," Wufei said from beside a sack of flour.

Heero nodded and pointed open-handedly to the kitchen table. "At ease."

Long after cleaning up from lunch, the five of them all took a seat around the heavy wooden slab to discuss the problem of the day, Treize's sudden sense of romanticism. Trowa couldn't help but notice that Quatre was acting rather edgy and nervous, but there wasn't time to ask why. The meeting had already started.

"Now then," Heero began with a professional tone, folding his hands on the table, "the first order of business is to determine whether or not the Count's upcoming marriage could possibly pose a threat to--"

"Excuse me, Mr...Chairman, or whatever," Trowa said, dipping his hand meekly up in the air, "but aren't we supposed to start every meeting with old business? If that's true, then the old business of finding a better place than the kitchen to hold our meetings hasn't been addressed yet."

"I thought every meeting started with the reading of the minutes from the last meeting," Quatre added.

"We didn't _take_ any minutes at the last meeting," said Wufei.

Trowa put his hand back down. "Well, even so, finding a new meeting place is old business, and Treize and Lady Une are new business, and old business always comes before new business."

"The longer we spend trying to figure out which is which, the longer it'll take to actually _do_ anything," Duo snapped.

"You wanna keep looking over your shoulder every time we have to discuss something?" Trowa shot back, folding his arms. "We can't make any decent decisions here if we're worried about getting caught!"

"We could've made _ten_ decisions by now if we'd just _decide_ already instead of--_OW!_" Duo stopped short of a full-blown argument to twitch in pain and reach a hand down to massage his injured shin. He glared angrily at Wufei, who sat closest. "Point of order! Kicking an advocate under the table is against the rules!"

Wufei smirked. "Sorry, I was forced into a quick decision and made an error in judgement."

Heero rubbed his eyes and sighed, a gesture that went unnoticed as the other four began to bicker and squabble like children. Eventually, they noticed the bored, tired look on Heero's face and sheepishly came to order once again, waiting for his instruction. "Are you through?"

They all nodded. "But we still need a new meeting place," Trowa said in a tiny voice.

Heero rolled his eyes. "Agreed. Proposals for a new meeting place?"

The five looked at each other with a questioning glance that made two full circles around the table before Duo put up a roadblock to stop it. "How about the Muddy Nag? We all know where it is, it's got high-walled booths to sit in, and we've got a room there to stash stuff in."

Heero nodded thoughtfully. "Any other suggestions?" None came. "All in favour?" His, Duo's, and Wufei's hands all went up, leaving the butler somewhat confused. "Opposed?"

Trowa and Quatre looked very briefly and furtively at each other as they raised their hands. There was something odd about the way they seemed to exchange a thought without speaking.

"Alright, then you two pick a place," Duo huffed.

"Well...we don't know any other places, really," Quatre admitted.

"They why the objection?" Heero asked.

"It's not that we don't _like_ the pub, it's just..." Trowa ran a hand through his bangs, wondering how to avoid saying what he meant to say. "It wouldn't be my first choice."

"Or mine," Quatre agreed.

"It would seem to be immaterial, seeing as how you've already been outvoted," Wufei pointed out. Trowa and Quatre slumped. Even though its discovery was now inevitable, neither could bring themselves to tell the rest of the group why it might not be the best thing to congregate in that particular pub.

Seeming satisfied that the vote was legal, Heero moved on to the new business. "As to the Count and Lady Une...would their legal union be counterproductive to our goals?"

"I don't see that it would make much difference," Duo said. "Could be they're just getting married to be married. Most of us have seen them together here and there, right? They're a pretty cozy couple."

"But Lady Une is very rich, even more so than Relena," Quatre added. "If the two of them pooled their resources, maybe Treize would have enough money to join Jeffrhyss' club after all."

"That's _if_ she would just hand over all her wealth to him," said Wufei. "Or...if she had a sudden 'accident' that left him as her sole beneficiary. Anyone know if this woman has substantial life insurance?"

"The rules say Treize has to have fluid assets equal to the average wealth of Jeffrhyss and the other three, right?" Trowa asked. "We need to know how much that is, don't we? Even if we had Treize's account number right in front of us, we'd still be guessing blindly at whether or not it would be enough."

Heero looked to his left. "Mr. Secretary?"

Duo's hand flew up in a salute. "Yessir!"

"Official documents for the Cinq Association, please."

"Right!" Duo got up and walked over to a cupboard a few doors down from the oven. Crouching down and opening it, he was faced with four large canisters with air-tight clamp-down lids, each with a newly-printed label. From left to right, they read 'Salt Pork,' 'Wheat Germ,' 'Dried Prunes,' and 'Cod Liver Oil.' He looked back up at the group. "What category?"

"Financial."

Duo's hand landed on the canister marked 'Wheat Germ' and carted it to the table, kicking the cupboard door closed along the way. He unclamped the lid and poured out the contents onto the tabletop, a thick, rolled-up stack of papers that had come out of the Egyptian puzzle box in Giorgenson's office. Duo slapped the empty canister shut and patted it on the lid. "Safest place in the whole house."

Quatre tapped his nervous little fingers on the table. "Duo, what if someone wants some wheat germ on their cereal?"

Everyone stared at Quatre.

"Alright, what if _I_ want some wheat germ on my cereal?"

Duo perched a hand on his hip. "Then you can go wear out your _own_ shoe leather to get some, and you can keep it in your _own_ room, because I'm not having anything that looks like sawdust and smells like a squirrel's nest in _my_ kitchen!"

Before another argument could take root, Heero instructed them all to sift through the paperwork looking for any figure resembling what might be the average wealth of four-fifths of the organization, but to their dismay, they found everything but. Without knowing what Jeffrhyss and the others were worth, they had no way of knowing whether the happy couple's combined net value would be sufficient, and without knowing that, they didn't know whether to stop the wedding or bring their smiling faces to the reception afterwards. The meeting ended in something of a stalemate, and the only conclusion the group could arrive at was that they needed more information, and possibly a plan as well.

**********  
  


Up in one of the games rooms, with the doors locked and firmly barricaded, Relena vented her frustrations on the hated page of the newspaper bearing the equally-hated news of Treize and Lady Une's upcoming nuptials. She had ripped the announcement right out of the page, stapled it to the dartboard, and had been furiously throwing darts at it for the last hour. With each dart she threw, she tried vainly to slide a piece of the extraordinary puzzle before her into place, squeezing new thoughts in between the sharp, wooden sounds of the metal spikes hitting the black and red circle on the wall.

_***thok***...I'm getting tired of being treated like a child who can't bear to hear the truth...***thok***...Heero won't tell me what's going on...***thok***...Quatre won't tell me what's going on...***thok***...I can't run to Milliardo because he just got here, and doesn't know the half of what's happened in this house yet...***thok***...I can't go to Otto because he'll tell Milliardo everything we talk about, and he'll just take over whatever I'm trying to do...***thok***_

She ran out of darts quickly, but had plenty of angry thoughts left over. Yet again, she stomped up to the dartboard, mounted on a large piece of cork painted a once-attractive green, and snatched the darts back for another set of throws. Her aim was actually improving, and that time she hit the dartboard six times instead of the cork.

_***thok***...Who else can I try to weasel information out of? ...***thok***...Bethany was making goo-goo eyes at Trowa for months after his arrival and he barely even noticed. She eventually gave up...***thok***...so I probably wouldn't have much luck there. Duo...hah! ***thok***...I'm not even going to waste my efforts on him, especially if Heero's up to something suspicious. He'll just protect him...***thok***_

Hanging onto her last dart, she scrunched up her eyebrows in thought and paced around the room. _And the four of them must still think they've fooled me about Wufei. I know he's here, I've seen him from the third-floor window using Daddy's birdwatching binoculars. He's hiding out with old Mr. Dunnet. He's no interior decorator, then._

Relena paused and smiled. _Well...not a previously-established decorator, at worst. He has the best taste out of anyone I've ever met...but all signs point to the theory that he's up to something suspicious too._ She ran her thumb lightly over the point of the dart, thinking about her earlier encounters with the men of the household that day. _Maybe...maybe Wufei would respond a little more easily. I know so little about him, so there's no reason to assume he wouldn't...and if he knows anything at all about Heero or Treize, I'm sure I can find a way to squeeze it out of him. After all, I've had the best possible teacher._

She ran a hand through her fluffed-up bangs, pulled her other hand back, and hurled the last dart at the dartboard, skewering the scrap of newsprint squarely in the middle--a perfect bullseye. Relena folded her arms and stared at the board with eyes of steel, looking forward to her next opportunity to use everything Heero had unknowingly taught her.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


_Next, in Episode Fifty-Nine: The Regents Park Irregulars try out their new meeting place at the Muddy Nag, which, coincidentally enough, is celebrating its grand re-opening, with some newly-acquired staff members. Relena confronts Wufei with unexpected results._

*looks at Relena, bug-eyed with fear* =O.O= I've created a monster! Or rather, _Heero's_ created a monster...or if you wanna take it a step further, Jeffrhyss made _two_ monsters for the price of one...sheesh! Somebody better stop this girl before she turns into a junior Scarlett O'Hara clone! *ahem* Anywho, next eppy will be Sept. 9th, because next Friday is too soon for me, and I'm tied up all that weekend. Plus, I don't want to delay it any more than that because of the expected ceremonies and stuff that'll be happening on tv all week. The Baby Boomers all remember where they were when Kennedy was shot, and well...our generation has 9/11. 'Nuff said.


	59. Pyrotic Circus

**Disclaimer:** My current defence against any corporate lawyers who might decide to beat down my door and present a "cease and desist" order from BanDai is that I've been working on this for a WHOLE YEAR now, and if they even **tried** to shut me down, they'd have hordes of angry fans swarming all over them and plucking out each and every one of their body hairs, one by one by one. Right guys? *looks expectantly at her readers* ... *crickets chirp* ... =o_o;= *gulp* Uh...right? =D

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Fifty-Nine: Pyrotic Circus

_"You know what charm is: a way of getting the answer yes without having asked any clear question." ~Albert Camus, "The Fall" _

September 9th, 1902

Mornings in the kitchen didn't get much quieter. While random servants skittered to and fro carrying this and that, and finishing off their own brief meals, Duo was silent for a full fifteen minutes, reading his latest letter from Helen. Ever mindful and considerate, she wrote without using very many complicated words that might have been too big for Duo's limited reading abilities, but he read each word as slowly as he could anyway, wanting to savour every second of the treasure.

As he finished the last page, he sat back with a relaxed smile and a happy sigh, folding the lily-white pages back together and tucking the bundle into its envelope for safe-keeping. Trowa, who happened to be in the immediate area, walked up to Duo's chair and leaned against the table. "How is she?"

"Getting better," said Duo. "She actually had the energy to go to church last weekend, and she isn't coughing as much."

Heero heard the last comment as he came down the stairs with a tray of dishes, but opted not to intrude. Trowa helped himself to some leftover coffee and pondered. "You think Sally's herbs are really helping?"

"Well, there's something to be said for the power of prayer, too," Duo said, leaning way back and folding his hands behind his head, "but yeah, I think it's gotta be doing something good. Never had any doubt."

Finished with the dishes, Heero walked back from the counter to the table and caught Trowa's eye. "Are they going to be ready to leave before dark?" he asked impatiently, referring to Quatre and Wufei, who were in the double bedchamber to the north. While they waited for all parties to be assembled on their way to the Muddy Nag for their first real meeting in more than a week, Quatre put a few questions to Wufei about furniture arrangements, and they had been discussing the minute intricacies of feng shui for almost an hour.

"I'll check on them," Trowa huffed, and he strode out of the kitchen right away.

Taking advantage of their temporary solitude, and having been reminded by the overheard conversation, Heero sat next to Duo with the intention of finally touching on the topic he hadn't known how to deal with since he stumbled upon it weeks earlier. "I was hoping to ask you something...just curious..." he began, unnaturally slowly.

Duo toyed with his letter and shrugged with his eyebrows. "Fire away."

"You're...reasonably well-versed in Catholicism...correct?"

Duo thought about the odd question, then nodded slackly. "Reasonably."

Heero thought a lot longer before he found a benign enough way to ask what he wanted to ask. "Is there a rule saying a woman has to change her name to Mary to be a nun?"

It was a perfectly sound question, but Duo found it hysterically funny, and let out a couple of restrained chuckles. "Naw, you kidding? What gave you that idea?"

"The Benedictine sisters who brought Relena's brother home...I overheard them talking to each other, and they used the name Mary more than any other." That was all he wanted to reveal at that time, and he hoped it didn't show.

"A lot of nuns just stick 'Mary' in front of their birth names, that's all," Duo said. "I dunno why, really...guess it makes them feel holier or something. Some even give up their birth name altogether and take the name of a saint, but I haven't got a clue whether it's compulsory. There's a lot I don't understand, but it's not like I've been studying it all my life. Had other stuff to worry about, y'know?"

Heero nodded. What Duo said made sense, especially when weighed against the extremely remote possibility that all nuns just happened to be called Mary when they were born. He had heard the names Mary Alice, Mary Francis, Mary Cecilia, Mary Elizabeth, and of course, the fabled Mary Helen who had alerted them to the young man's peril. Coming so soon after Duo's Helen asked for a photo of Milliardo, Heero couldn't help but be suspicious, but he didn't know how he felt beyond that. "Thank you."

"Happy to help," Duo chirped with a smile. "Although...I thought you knew all this cross-cultural stuff already. Sensitivity training to make sure you didn't offend any of your 'marks', right?"

"It's not like I've been studying it all my life either," Heero mocked lightly.

Duo wanted to ask why Heero was so curious about something so unrelated to his own life, but they were both distracted by a group of three leaving the hallway to Trowa and Quatre's bedroom. The owners were walking stiffly, taking sidelong peeks out the kitchen window on their way to the table. Wufei was right behind them, padding along in his white suit with black buttons and silent slippers, but when he reached the window, he ducked under it, and chose his spot at the table very carefully so as not to be exposed to the outside world. Trowa stood between him and the window, trying to be helpful, and folded his arms. "Slight problem."

Heero was already subtly straining to see out the window without obviously looking, but the visual angle from the sunken kitchen was poor. "What?"

"Lucrezia and Milliardo. We just saw them going out for a walk, and they've stopped at the gazebo." Trowa gave a tiny tilt of his head towards the window.

Looking nonchalant, Duo picked up the empty coffee pot off the cork trivet and took it over to the washbasin, which was under a second window. He peered casually out the window while he rinsed out the pot and saw the happy couple, just as reported. They were sitting on the swing, talking quietly, nothing out of the ordinary. "Why's that a problem?" he asked through tight, unmoving lips.

"The problem is the direction they're facing," Wufei said, still ducking below ground level. "From where they're sitting, they can see every door and window on the west side of the house. Unless I want to take my chances with a different exit, I'm stuck here until they move."

That _was_ a problem. The five of them were soon due at the Muddy Nag for an important strategy meeting, and it wouldn't do to go through with it short-handed, nor would it benefit Wufei to tip his hand to the rest of the household when he really had nowhere else to go. "Maybe we should reschedule," Trowa suggested.

"Or just stay here?" Quatre added hopefully. He was ready to try anything that might keep them all out of the pub for awhile.

Heero shook his head. "We can't keep putting it off, and we've already voted to relocate. We're going."

"Why don't you four go on ahead?" said Wufei. "Those two can't sit there forever, and while I'm waiting for them to move, you might as well get a head start."

It seemed reasonable to everyone, and soon they decided. Wufei would stay behind just long enough to escape the watchful eyes of the elder Peacecraft and his mistress, while the others would carry on towards the Muddy Nag and set up for their first real gathering in their new base of operations. Without any fuss, they parted ways, fully expecting to meet up shortly, ready to go to work.

**********  
  


A sizeable crowd was gathering in front of a conspicuously unidentified building, formerly known as the Muddy Nag. The locals said 'formerly,' as evidenced by the discarded placard propped up against the front of the building with a wreath of white lilies hanging off it, partially obscuring the painted picture of a mare's head splattered with dirt. High above, a white drop-cloth was covering the long sign overhead, and at street level, two brass poles were set up with a brilliant red ribbon stretched between them, right in front of the doors. The front of the building was polished and scrubbed to a gleaming shine, but the interior was a complete mystery, as thick curtains of an orange brocade were drawn clear across the windows. The number of curtains gave the bystanders a hint that the old pub was at least twice the size that it used to be.

At noon precisely, the fair lady Catherine, queen of her tiny domain, emerged from the building with a pair of scissors and a great big grin. She immediately recognized the four lads from Bridlewood standing at the front of the pack, and hopped over to them, waving excitedly. "Oh, I'm so glad you all came!" she squealed. "Bet you're all just _dying_ to see the results of our miraculous, fantabulous, presto-change-o surprise transformation!"

Heero blinked at her, heavy-lidded and with arms already folded. "Catherine...this place has been a shambles for the past _month_. How can you call it a surprise?"

"Yeah!" Duo laughed. "In fact, we had to cut one of our workouts short because the echoing of hammers and saws was too much for our delicate little ears!"

"...okay, it's not much of a surprise," Catherine admitted, "but you _still_ won't believe it." As she walked proudly back to the front doors, Heero and Duo smirked at each other, while Trowa and Quatre traded silent glances of apprehension.

Next, the bubbly barmaid brought forth her special guest, a portly, bearded gentleman who was apparently a city councillor or somesuch. As a small-town press photographer readied his equipment for a simple but dignified publicity shot, the grand opening was made official. "On behalf of city council," the bearded man said regally, "I am pleased to declare this establishment...officially re-opened!" With Catherine's hand on one handle of the shears and his on the other, they held a smiling pose just long enough for the photographer to expose his plate of film, then jointly snipped through the red ribbon to the enthusiastic applause supplied by the crowd.

To top it off, two scruffy street lads chosen at random and paid with a pork pie each, standing below either end of the long, obscured sign over the doors, pulled their ropes to bring the white cloth fluttering down. Underneath it was a newly-painted sign in green and gold, bearing the proud words, 'Catherine's Place.' Most everyone grinned, very much pleased for Catherine and, at the same time, amused by her ego.

Before throwing open the doors, Catherine raised both hands to the people and made one further benevolent gesture. "Today only, from now until closing, in celebration of this momentous event, every drink is on the house!" A mighty roar arose from the booze hounds, and they pushed the Bridlewood boys aside to parade in like a pack of mice following the Pied Piper.

As the anxious customers filed in, their eyes glazed over in collective wonderment. While the original space taken up by the pub was essentially unchanged, all of the old, torn decorative fabrics had been replaced, and the tables and chairs were brand new. The bar had been extended about four feet, adding several new barstools and a system of racks for storing glassware overhead, and as a finishing touch, many of the low-hanging light fixtures had been given pretty new lampshades of stained glass and black metal, their festive light casting colourful mosaics of warm, welcoming hues all over the room.

While a handful of men went straight up to the bar for their complimentary pint, most wandered dizzily into the newer, much larger portion of the pub. Upon taking over the vacant business next door, Catherine had subdivided it into several smaller units, all of which still seemed cavernous. There was a games room with a billiard table, a conference room with its own little bar, two small meeting rooms for intimate gatherings, and a full-service restaurant with a brand new menu. Duo noted that a few of his own culinary creations were available, marked with his initials on the price board. He couldn't have been happier.

Each of the smaller meeting rooms seated ten people, while the conference room could accommodate twenty. While the total effect was still sinking in with the others, Heero poked his head into the farthest meeting room, bedecked with walnut trim and executive dark green wallpaper, nodding appreciatively. "Just what we're looking for."

Duo walked right in, admiring the little watercolour paintings of local landmarks and the banks of the Thames in their faux-gilt frames that adorned the windowless walls. "Hey, this is great! Plenty of room to spread stuff out all over the table!" As a totally unnecessary demonstration, Duo spread himself out all over the table, dangling his feet off the edge and waving his arms to make an invisible snow angel.

While Quatre laughed, albeit quite nervously, Trowa rolled his eyes, kicked a chair away from the table, and flopped down on it. "Make yourself at home, why don't you..."

"Hey!" Duo shouted without sitting up, pointing an angry finger at Trowa. "My skillet stroganoff _paid_ for that chair! Treat it with some respect!"

"You know..." Quatre began timidly, wringing his hands as he paced around, "as nice as this place is, I really don't think we should be having our discussions in here. It's not set up for business purposes, it looks more like a miniature hall for birthdays and anniversary dinners."

Just at that moment, Heero opened one of the austere wooden wall cabinets and found a treasure trove of office supplies. "Looks perfectly suitable to me," he said, shuffling through the healthy supply of pens, pencils, ink wells and blank books available to preferred customers.

"Hey, are there any snacks in there?" Duo said, jumping up off the table and crouching beside Heero to search the lower levels of the cabinet. "I could sure go for some pretzels, or licorice drops, or..."

"Never fear, boys," a girl's voice sang from the doorway. It made Quatre jump and sent his heart rate soaring until he whirled around and saw that it was Catherine. "These rooms have complete access to the newly-fitted kitchen and revamped menu, full waitress service until closing time, and you can reserve them up to a month in advance!"

"Any holds on this room right now?" Heero asked.

"None whatsoever. Want it?"

_No!_ Quatre thought.

"Yes!" Duo cheered. "And we might as well start off in style, so let's have a big platter of goodies and a big bottle of something fizzy!"

"Iced tea and orange juice," Heero interrupted. Duo frowned in disappointment, but as Catherine went off happily with her first major food order of the day, Heero turned to Quatre with a sympathetic look. "I know you weren't looking forward to this, but if it makes it any easier for you, we can just keep the alcohol out of this room as much as possible."

Feeling a pang of guilt at Heero's erroneous but sensitive assumption that Quatre's religious aversion to spiritous beverages was to blame for his erratic behaviour, he wrung his hands again. "Thank you."

Only Trowa knew what was really on the boy's mind as they each took a seat around the heavy oak table and lightly discussed this and that, waiting for their drinks and nibbles as much as they were waiting for Wufei. Duo took extreme delight in listening carefully to the orders shouted around the nearby kitchen, to see how many people were trying out his dishes, but the others pretty much just lounged around, watching the minutes tick by on the octagonal pendulum wall clock. Not long after placing their order, footsteps approached, and at the door appeared a young woman in a cornflower blue cotton dress and a white apron, carrying a tray of finger sandwiches. She had long, flowing brunette curls trailing away from a pretty schoolgirl face, and as she walked, there was a very faint jingling, as if she were wearing tiny bells on her high-heeled lace-up shoes. Quatre cringed and bit down on two knuckles of his right hand, while his left hand tucked itself under the other arm.

"Sandwiches!" the girl said, and she set the tray down in the middle of the table, leaning right over Heero's shoulder as she did so. As she looked across the table at Quatre, she smiled cheerily, and he smiled back through a guilty grimace. Then, as quickly as she came, she left, jingling out the door and down the hall back towards the kitchen.

Duo stared after her and slapped Heero lightly in the shoulder. "Did she look familiar to you?"

"A bit, yes."

Quatre looked up at the ceiling and begged Allah for a miracle.

Less than a minute later, another young lady walked in, this one with platinum blonde hair, braided and pulled over her shoulder. She wore an identical cornflower blue dress and white apron, and she came bearing a tray of cold cuts, cut fruit, and chunks of cheese, all with little coloured toothpicks sticking out of them. "Appetizers!" she said, and deposited the second tray next to the first. Upon seeing Quatre, she brightened considerably. "Oh! Hello!"

"Hello," Quatre answered, forcing a smile, and the girl left along the same path as the other.

This time, Heero crinkled his eyes and looked at Duo. "Doesn't she look like Hessa?" He looked immediately at Quatre, without waiting for an answer. "Was that Hessa?"

"Uh...she _did_..._slightly_ resemble her, but I--"

"She sure seemed to know you," Duo said, puzzled.

"Well, she might've thought he was someone else," Trowa suggested strongly.

The other two both nodded unconvincingly and sat back. "Oh."

If the other shoe hadn't already dropped and then jumped up to slap Trowa and Quatre in the face, two more girls entered the meeting room, each carrying a tray with a full pitcher and two empty glasses. Not only were their blue dresses and white aprons identical, but their eyes, figures, faces, and dark, coiled-up hair were also a perfect match. The only detail that set them apart was the flower they each had pinned to their pinnies, orange for one, and blue-green for the other.

"Iced tea!" the orange flower announced.

"And orange juice!" the aqua flower answered. Quatre tried to hide behind Trowa's broad shoulders and sighed.

Duo and Heero regarded the girls with shock and confusion as they set down their burdens and exited the room. Once they were gone, Heero leaned forward on one elbow, pointed at the door, and glared at Quatre. "Those were the twins," he said firmly.

Quatre didn't have to try, he already looked innocent as a lamb, and dreading the swing of the farmer's axe. ".....technically.....if you _really_ want to nit-pick.......yes, yes they were." He finished timidly and tossed his hands up in the air. "We couldn't stand it anymore! All crunched up together in the same room, it was awful! ...well...not at first, it wasn't...but it just wasn't working out, and when Yasmeen told me she'd found another place to hide, I didn't ask any questions, and well...then she _told_ me at the last minute as they were sneaking out the back door in the middle of the night, a-and knowing how often _you_ two come here for karate practice, I was just waiting for you to come home and bawl me out because you bumped into one of them...or _all_ of them.....oh, bother..."

Heero leaned his chin in his hand and drummed his fingers on the side of his head, brows arched and eyelids at half-mast. "Anything else?"

Quatre made a show of thinking very hard, then shook his head. "No, that's about it."

"I thought we said no more secrets."

"It wasn't his fault," Trowa insisted, putting an arm around the boy without a second thought. "He _wanted_ to tell you about it, but...well, we all know you have a bit of a temper..."

Calmly, but only on the surface, Heero lowered his arm back down to the table. "That's a feeble excuse and you know it."

"Hey, hey, hey, knock it off," Duo interjected before Heero could make a liar out of himself. "Maybe this is for the best, y'know? Maybe this is the best place for 'em. Are they living here _and_ working here?"

Quatre nodded. "Yasmeen helps with the books, and the others all work in the restaurant. The upper floor of the new wing is all new rooms. They get to use as many as they need as part of their wages, and the rest of the rooms are up for rent, same as the old ones."

Duo smiled and slapped Heero's shoulder. "Well, that's not bad, is it? They're out of the way and doing something useful, nobody'd ever think of looking for them here!"

"Except that at least one of the _other_ sisters saw Quatre in the pub last year, and threw a dagger at his head," Heero pointed out.

"She didn't see anyone _but_ Quatre, though, and it'd be logical for her and the rest of the family to assume that he wouldn't chance being seen there again," Trowa said defensively. "They're probably as safe here as they would be anywhere else, and at least we've all got room to breathe now."

Even though they all knew Heero had no power or right to change what was, his approval was still very important to them. He was the closest thing they had to a leader, and his endorsement meant a great deal. After a good long think, Heero exhaled audibly, reached out to the nearest tray to pluck out a piece of mozzarella speared on a green toothpick, and chomped on it. "In a way, I envy them," he admitted while chewing.

Quatre sighed deeply with relief. "You mean that? You're not upset?"

"I suppose not."

"Atta boy, you know it makes sense!" said Duo, diving into the food immediately afterwards.

"Oh, you don't know how glad I am to hear that!" Quatre said gratefully. "This is _such_ a load off my mind! Thanks so much!"

"Thank Duo," their leader said, pouring himself an iced tea with one hand and grabbing a sandwich with the other. "He must be rubbing off on me, because I'm finally learning to relax." Greeted by a chorus of little laughs, he kicked his feet up on the table in a very Duo-like manner and leaned way back, his temper lying in ruins on the floor. While they all had a good chuckle at his behaviour, however, he was already wondering if having Quatre's sisters out in the field could benefit them in any way. _It could be very useful having so many extra sets of eyes and ears outside the house. I'll have to keep that in mind._

**********  
  


For another thirty-five agonizing minutes, Wufei paced...and paced...and paced, but the lovebirds weren't budging. He peeked out the window every time he stalked past it, but they were still there each time, angled perfectly so that they would see any move he made out the back door. They didn't look as if they'd be moving any time soon, either. The boy's scowl worsened by the second, until it was no longer productive to stand there and wait. _Irritating statues! I'm going out the front._

Determined to make it to the meeting even if he had to leap out a second-story window, he crept up the stairs and looked for an unpopulated path to the front of the house. Getting out of the servants' stairwell was easy, but every few steps, a lady servant walked by, and he had to duck into this door and that, zigzagging up the south hall. His steps were light and quick, his eyes alert, and his ears open to even the tiniest creak of the floorboards, which made it doubly surprising that as soon as he ducked into the little green sitting room one door down from the parlour, Wufei got a nasty shock.

He was hiding between the opened door and the wall and heard footsteps, but instead of getting fainter, they grew until a small, pale hand wrapped itself around the edge of the door and pulled it away. Attached to the hand was Relena, but between the moment of astonishment when he realized he'd been caught and the spark of self-doubt at his own abilities, he was taken aback by the change in her appearance. Gone were her normal airs of innocence, replaced by a velvet dress of deepest green, a fuzzy slash of rouge on each cheek, and a pile of upswept golden curls on top of her head. Her eyes were circled with a thin band of charcoal-black powder, and the way the ensemble aged her was somewhat frightening.

"Hiding from me?" she entreated through high-gloss, petal-pink lipstick.

Wufei had been so sure of his capacity to make it out the front door without being noticed that he never bothered to think up a cover story for why he was skulking around the manor uninvited. If Otto had walked in on him, the solution would have been simple--kosh him on the head and disappear before he hit the floor. The equation didn't balance with a female on the other side, however. He looked from side to side and swallowed. "I'm...here because..."

"Come away from there," she begged, pulling him forward by both hands. "The walls are probably coated with dust, and I'd hate to see you get all dirty." She helped herself to brushing imaginary clumps of fuzz off his pristine white tunic, off the shoulders, arms, chest, and anywhere else she felt like putting her hands.

Wufei didn't know why she wasn't questioning his presence, but he wasn't about to waste it. He headed for the sitting room door. "I apologize most humbly for my intrusion, M'lady, and now I'll be on my wa--"

"You're not leaving, are you?" She stopped him, framed squarely in front of the doorway, and let her hands crawl up the front of his tunic to hang on either side of his neck. "I'm not angry, if that's what you think. In fact, I've known for some time that you've been frequenting old Mr. Dunnet's cottage. You don't have anything to worry about, I understand completely."

Unable to decide exactly how suspicious he should be, Wufei studied the eye contact she made, looking for expected patterns of either deception or ignorance. "You understand," he stated questioningly. "What do you mean, precisely?"

Relena drew even closer, hanging her forearms off his shoulders. "I understand your need for secrecy. Anyone in your position would have to keep a low profile, and all I'm saying is that I don't mind if you use my property to do it." It was a cleverly-worded declaration, and it had absolutely no basis in fact. She was hoping to trick him into revealing more than he intended, but that in itself was foolishness.

Unbeknownst to either of them, Hilde was heading up that exact same hall with a dust rag and a jar of wax destined for the woodwork in the front hall. As she approached the sitting room, she heard familiar voices, but didn't think much of them, having been self-trained to ignore the family's inane chatter. As she passed silently by the door, however, and got a glimpse of Relena and Wufei hanging all over each other, a bolt of lightning hit her in the back of the head and sent hideous streams of ugly, green-eyed anxieties shooting through her veins. She ducked inside a door on the other side of the hall, directly opposite the sitting room, and watched the pair quietly from within.

"In fact, I think we might be able to help each other," Relena cooed. "If you've placed any trust in the people under this roof, it might be wise to reconsider. I've found recently that the people I thought I could trust have been deceiving me all along, and I wouldn't want that to happen to you, not ever." She stretched forward another inch, and was a deep breath away from pressing herself into Wufei's chest. "You and I, you see...we're different from the Sneaky Petes you've been consorting with, and if you'll help me keep an eye on one of them in particular, I'll help _you_ and you alone...I'll be _completely_ at your disposal."

"I see." Wufei's interest in the conversation was purely academic thus far, but he couldn't deny feeling somewhat stirred on his most primal level. He hadn't been this close to an attractive young lady in some time. "And who exactly do you want to keep an eye on?"

"Let's not worry about that," Relena purred, reaching up to stroke his slicked-back hair and trail the same hand down and around the embroidery embellishing his buttonholes. "What really matters is that I'm offering you an exclusive and secret partnership. If you're hiding out with the handy man, you must be pretty desperate, and I could easily offer you first-class accommodation...for a price..."

Across the hall, Hilde had put down her cleaning utensils for fear of dropping them, as she was aghast and appalled at what she saw and heard. Tiny red-hot flames were igniting behind her eyes, which were simultaneously fighting back tears.

Wufei tried vainly to pry Relena's hands off him, but her grip was like iron. "I don't think this is the place to--"

"Just say yes!" the girl insisted in a smoky, seductive voice. "Say you'll do a little spy work for me, and I'll make your stay here as comfortable as I possibly can." In a move that actually brought a tinge of red to Wufei's cheeks, she curled her unused arm around his waist and pulled, resting her head on his shoulder and tickling the patch of wispy black hair at the back of his neck.

That was more than enough for Hilde. Balling her little fists tightly, she stomped across the hall into the sitting room and scared the two of them into breaking apart. First, she addressed Wufei, in the manner of a proper lady, apparently the only one in the room. "Would you kindly excuse us, sir?"

The startled young man was only too happy to oblige, and scampered out the door at once. Only a few steps away, however, he reconsidered, and flattened himself against the wall next to the door. Inside, Relena was already taking exception to the interruption. "What do you mean, bursting in here and--"

"What do _you_ mean, getting your filthy, aristocratic pawprints all over something that doesn't belong to you!?" Hilde shot back.

Relena took a fluttery step back as if she'd been hit across the face. "What's that supposed to mean!?"

Hilde took a deep breath and held her hands firmly down at her sides, lest she do something legally regrettable. "I don't have _much_," she said in a calm but gradually intensifying tone, "but I at least hoped, in spite of being lower-class and horrible at everything except polishing and dusting, that I might have the same chance at happiness as anyone else in the world, and to walk by just now and see _you_, you who's made such a habit of chasing after boys who can _never_ be yours, falling all over the _one_ young man in our puny, encapsulated world that _I_ might've had a chance at, well it...it.....it just makes my blood boil so much that it's gonna heat up my whole head and shoot steam out my ears!!"

So taken aback by the outburst, Relena pointed frailly and shakily at the door, her mouth bobbing open and closed like a fish flopping around in the bottom of a boat. "You and _him_ are--"

"No! We're not anything!" the housemaid shouted. "There's no telling what we _might've_ been, but now that you've shown up with your rouge and your pretty curls and that dress, you--"

"What did you say before? Chasing after boys who can never be mine!? Who do you think you _are_, telling--"

"It's time _somebody_ told you to your face! I _knew_ all along that Heero didn't love you, he was just steamrollered into that engagement! He never had a chance!"

"How _dare_ you say such a thing!"

"Why shouldn't I say it if it's true!? You can't keep your hands to yourself for one minute, can you!?"

"Take that back, you little tramp!"

"I won't! Not until you leave _both_ of them alone!"

"I can do what I like in my own house!"

"Just because they're within arms' reach doesn't mean they're yours!"

Around the corner, Wufei was nothing short of mesmerized. The very concept that _he_ could have sparked such a screaming match was a peculiar ego-booster, while at the same time he admonished himself for feeling responsible in any way. Still, he found himself drawn away from the wall and back into the doorway, hypnotized by the display and watching the pair in utter bewilderment. Already, there were heavy footsteps clomping down the stairs to see what all the ruckus was, but they were too late to prevent the worst of the damage. Wufei was still as a statue, even as one girl threw the first swing at the other.

**********  
  


Heero's sense of the passage of time was unusually heightened through years of training, but it didn't stop him from checking his pocket watch obsessively. The others were equally fidgety, wondering what could be keeping their fifth member. At that moment, the most interesting thing going on in the top-secret meeting room was Duo's repeated attempts to balance a pencil between his upper lip and his nose while simultaneously balancing a second pencil on top of his head. The results were amusing at first, but it got old fast. Everyone wanted to do something useful before sunset.

Bored with his watch, Heero snatched the pencil off Duo's head before it fell for the hundredth time and poked it into his braid, where it stuck in place beside two other pencils that had earned the same fate. Duo was beginning to look like a long-tailed porcupine thanks to his friend, and he swivelled his head around to give him a dirty look. "You do that again," he warned, holding up his remaining pencil threateningly, "and this next one's going someplace _real_ uncomfortable."

Heero challenged him with a glare. "Try me."

"Couldn't we be using our time a little more constructively?" Quatre begged as he perused the nearly-empty food trays for another bite or two.

"Doing what?" Duo whined. "We're supposed to be a five-man partnership, and instead, we've barely got enough bodies for a poker game!" Wufei had suggested that they get a head start, but not one of the boys knew _where_ to start with one person short, and so, they were going nowhere.

Trowa slumped forward, resting his head on his folded arms in such a way that his bangs hid what was left of his face entirely. "Maybe we should just assume he's not coming and go back home," the boy mumbled. "Maybe something happened that kept him in the house."

"Or maybe he changed his mind," Heero wondered unpleasantly.

"He wouldn't bail out without telling us, I'm sure of it," said Quatre. "He could still get here."

"Even if he does, I've forgotten what we were supposed to talk about," Trowa said sleepily, yawning immediately afterwards.

"I'll tell you what we _need_ to talk about," Duo said, pulling the pencils out of his hair energetically, "a general plan of action. We know who we're after and what he's up to, but that's about it, and when you think about it, we're a pretty funny bunch to be taking on organized crime."

"What are you saying?" Heero asked curtly.

"I'm saying that we really haven't got a clue! I mean, look at us! Even when Wufei _does_ drag his sorry carcass in here, what have we got? A karate maniac, a kung fu decorator, a gardener, a horse trainer...and a five-star chef," Duo finished, brushing back his bangs with artistic flair. "Even if we capture the bad guy, _any_ bad guy, what are we gonna do? Kick him until he's unconscious and fill all of his cranial orifices with Devon cream and peat moss?"

The point was surprisingly well-taken around the table. They all sounded rather pathetic compared to what they were up against. Heero folded his hands and exhaled with determination. "Alright...even with just the four of us, we can start looking at a basic strategy...we'll just have to figure out what we can accomplish before we set an unattainable goal." With a shrug and a jump of his eyebrows, he shook his head once and looked at Trowa, who now sat at closer attention. "What can you do?"

Trowa tapped his fingers nervously on the table, thinking. "Well...I'm handy with a sword...I can tie about three dozen different knots...I can find my way in the wilderness without a compass...and I can shoot a fly off a fencepost at a hundred paces."

Heero and Duo both leaned forward a bit, visibly impressed. "That's...pretty good..." Heero admitted.

"_Pretty_ good?" Duo exclaimed. "That's awesome! I didn't know you could do all that!"

"I did," Quatre said smugly, smiling at Trowa, who gladly smiled back.

Heero nodded. "It's a solid start...what about you?"

"Me?" Quatre scrunched up humbly in his seat. "Oh, I don't think I could compete with all that. The kinds of things I learned as a child generally aren't battle-worthy, unless you want to audit the enemy's book of accounts."

"Aw, c'mon, spill it!" Duo teased. "You've got some kind of secret ability you've been hiding from us all along, haven't you?"

Duo was only joking, but for a moment, Quatre panicked, thinking he knew. He blushed. "Well...if you count fencing, then Trowa and I both have an extra card to play. The only other thing I can think of that might be useful is archery."

Heero's surprise was clearly displayed. "_Archery_?"

Quatre nodded. "I've used longbows and crossbows in the field, just for practice, but I was mostly educated on a short hunting bow, on horseback. We even had a family fletcher until things went haywire." He could feel that Heero was impressed, but that he also didn't think such a skill would be practical in the modern world. Suddenly and strangely desperate to feel valuable to the group, he looked at Trowa uncomfortably, looked back at Heero, and twiddled his thumbs, staring down at the table. "And...I can, sort of...tell when people are lying to me."

Trowa wrung his hands under the table. The opposite pair were equally curious and entreated him for details. "What, all the time?" Heero asked.

"Seriously? How can you do that?"

"Uh..." Their sudden demands made Quatre squeamish and doubtful about whether he had said too much. He felt himself falling into an inescapable pit of hounding questions and fearful answers, and when he reached the blackest depths of despair at his self-made predicament, a lifeline was thrown to him, in the form of fast-approaching footsteps and a terrible sobbing noise.

Heads turned before the footsteps even made it to the door, and jaws dropped when the newcomers revealed themselves. Wufei had made it to the pub after all, but he hadn't come alone. A blubbering, sobbing Hilde was hanging off his arm, dressed in street clothes and clutching a ratty, second-hand suitcase. Every so often, she raised a tattered linen handkerchief to her face, dabbing at her soggy eyes and blowing her nose as she whimpered and cried. Wufei looked shell-shocked.

Duo was out of his chair immediately and at her side. "Oh my gosh, what's the matter? What happened!?"

Hilde sniffed, sobbed, then lifted her head and wailed, "I've been _fired!!_"

Everyone stood and crowded around her, throwing out question after question at double speed. Duo threw his arms around her right away in a comforting hug, eyes wide. He stood back and gripped her shoulders. "How did _that_ happen!?"

"I was...w-walking down the...hall, and I...overheard..." She choked out a sob every fourth word, the pulled herself just together enough to spew out the condensed version. "I got into a huge fight with Relena and there was yelling and scratching and hair-pulling and then _she fired me!_"

Duo gaped. "You two had a _catfight!?_"

"I think you'd better sit down," Heero said, tugging on her arm gently.

"No, I don't wanna sit down," she snuffled, "I wanna go...clean myself up..." She blew her nose one last time with a mighty honk that made everyone take a step back, except Wufei, who took two steps.

Catherine made an opportune appearance next, having directed the pair to the meeting room from behind the bar. The second she found someone to cover for her, she was racing to the back of the new wing to see what was wrong. "Everything okay in here?" she asked, partly out of worry and partly out of an instinctive need for gossip.

Duo introduced them briefly and asked if there was someplace Hilde could hide until she had fixed her face well enough to be seen in public, and Catherine led the girl away without delay. Next, all eyes turned to Wufei. They stared, and he stared back. "All I did was try to get out the front door."

"You saw what happened?" Heero demanded.

Wufei had backed right up against the nearest wall with his hands wrapped around his elbows, looking very shifty indeed. "You could say that..." The four of them just wouldn't stop staring at him, expecting an explanation. "I can't really say what it was about."

"Why not, if you were there?" Quatre asked, sensing that he knew much more than he was telling.

"Because you wouldn't believe me," Wufei concluded. The stares were persistent. He sighed and lolled his head back. "Alright, it's just...they just started squabbling. Over me." Eyebrows leaped up in all directions. Faithful to Wufei's prediction, none of them could believe it. "It's true. Otto had to separate them, and then Relena told her to pack her bags and get out."

"What in God's name set them off?" said Duo.

"It still doesn't make sense to me," Wufei said, touching a hand to his temple as if fending off a headache. "I was trying to sneak out the front when Relena stopped me, and then she started..._pushing_ herself on me...with lots of flowery language and unnecessary touching. Disgraceful behaviour for a lady in her position."

"Uh oh." Quatre hadn't meant to let the tiny noise slip, but it did, and the group's focus shifted over to him. He was unable to look at Trowa while he made his announcement. "She did the same thing to me a week ago."

Another cascade of shocked looks and gasps followed. Trowa fixed his eyes on his friend and folded his arms. "I _knew_ there was something bothering you, something you wouldn't tell me...this was it, wasn't it?"

Quatre nodded, then turned to Heero. "S-she wanted me to tell her if you were up to anything suspicious, and she was being..._very_ forward about it." The blush that coated his face told everyone that the details, juicy though they were, wouldn't be squeezed out of him by a twenty-foot python.

Wufei squinted. "She wanted me to spy on someone for her, but didn't say who. I'd say you've got yourself a stalker, Yuy."

Heero snarled to himself and scratched the back of his head. Relena was onto him, to what degree, he didn't know, but her actions had the potential to get all of them, herself included, in a lot of trouble. While he pondered the depth of the dilemma, Catherine returned with Hilde in tow. She looked somewhat better, but was still devastated. Duo went straight over to her first and took her hand. "How ya feelin'?" he said softly.

"Still pretty awful," Hilde said. "I can't believe I'm homeless again! Back to selling flowers in train stations! I thought I was finally getting somewhere in life, too!"

"Don't talk like that," Duo said, giving her another hug while Wufei skulked guiltily to the other side of the room. "Maybe she'll hire you back when she cools off. Just give it a couple of days, lemmie soften her up with some nice, gooey, chocolate desserts and she'll come to her senses."

"Oh, and what am I supposed to do until then?" Hilde whined. "I've got nowhere to go! I don't wanna go back out on the streets!" 

"Quite right, and you shouldn't have to!" Catherine exclaimed. "I've got room enough for one more lodger, easily!"

Hilde sniffed at her hopefully. "...really? ...oh no, I'm sure I couldn't afford it, not when I haven't got a job to go back to..."

"Never mind that," Heero said, turning to Catherine. "I'll look after it, whatever it costs. Could she look at one of the new rooms now?"

Catherine blinked. "Oh...when I said I could squeeze in one more lodger, I really meant _squeeze in one more_. There's a convention of brush salesmen in town and they've just snapped up all the vacant rooms for the next week. I was talking about _your_ room. You hardly ever use it, after all."

Heero paled. His room. The one that had been turned into an archive of information on Treize, Jeffrhyss, and evil in general. This was not good. "Uh..."

"Oh, that's so _sweet_ of you!" Hilde squealed, bouncing forward and thanking Heero with a hug and a kiss. While he was still frozen from shock, she grabbed her suitcase and straightened her little flowered hat. "Let's go see it right now!" Before Heero could utter a syllable to the contrary, the girls flew out of the room and back into the old wing.

Duo folded his hands behind his back and looked innocently at Heero. "Whatever it costs," he reminded him.

"We can't leave her here," Trowa said worriedly. "Everything from the puzzle box is in that room."

Looking up from the floor, Wufei volunteered himself as a security guard. "I can stay and watch her, make sure she doesn't get her nose into anything she shouldn't...I'm partly to blame for this anyway."

It was too late to get any real work done, and they seemed to have taken several steps backwards as well. It was positively the least productive day they'd had since forming the partnership, and Heero could feel a headache coming on. He rubbed the back of his neck and grumbled. "Meeting adjourned."

**********  
  


It was now hours after the fight with Hilde, and Relena still hadn't left the green sitting room. There was an unpleasantly surreal feeling about the place, and it made her dizzy enough to plant herself on the floor next to the door, after barricading it with as many chairs as she could lift and carry over. She sat with her knees drawn right up to her chest, and both arms wrapped around the bunches of dark green velvet, shaking ever so slightly.

"Relena? Open this door," her brother's concerned but authoritative voice commanded for the umpteenth time.

"Go away," Relena croaked, squeezing her eyes shut. Everything was such a horrid mess now. She wasn't any good at being tantalizing and persuasive after all, and now Wufei was gone. Worse than that, she had acted in terrible haste and let go one of her best workers.

"You'll have to come out some time, and then I want a word with you."

Relena sniffled and looked up at the ceiling, wiping the mist from her eyes, her lower lip trembling. She didn't answer her brother, and after a few minutes more, he apparently gave up, and decided she'd come out when she was good and hungry. Inside, Relena knew she wouldn't be able to eat for the rest of the night, if not longer.

In need of a stretch, she got up gingerly and paced around the room, thinking the same ugly thought over and over. _I just made a royal fool out of myself, and for nothing!_ As she passed by the liquor cabinet, an overwhelming urge made her grab a whiskey glass and hurl it at the opposite wall, smashing it into a thousand crystalline shards all over the Persian rug. Her dishevelled golden curls were already falling out of their hairpins and dangling in her face, and she collapsed on the nearest sofa, staring through the haze of shining twists and wondering if she could ever hold her head up in that house again.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


_Next, in Episode Sixty: Dorothy finally gets ahold of Lady Une and learns the truth behind her engagement to Treize. Trowa and Quatre test the limits of their special abilities to see how useful they might really be to the cause._

Bwa ha ha! Catfight! >=D Oh, that girly's playing with FIRE now! *evil authoress laugh* Well, I'm gonna get straight to work on the next eppy, 'cause the sooner it's done, the sooner I can devote some time to badly-needed Gallery maintenance. *winky winky* Mark down September 19th if you will. =^_~= Baibai!


	60. Dark Magic of Desire

**Thank you...** to Emy from Italy for providing the Italian used in this episode! =D (...oh yes, and there's some shounen-ai fluffiness here, if anyone needs warning. *grin*)

**Disclaimer:** My current defence against any corporate lawyers who might decide to beat down my door and present a "cease and desist" order from BanDai is that I've been working on this for a WHOLE YEAR now, and if they even **tried** to shut me down, they'd have hordes of angry fans swarming all over them and plucking out each and every one of their body hairs, one by one by one. Right guys? *looks expectantly at her readers* ... *crickets chirp* ... =o_o;= *gulp* Uh...right? =D

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Sixty: Dark Magic of Desire

_"Anyone who hasn't experienced the ecstasy of betrayal knows nothing about ecstasy at all." ~Jean Genet _

September 19th, 1902

Normally, Quatre slept quite soundly, but on this morning, in the wee small hours, he was stirred awake by something formless, soundless, and completely invisible. He sat up in his striped pajamas and looked over at Trowa, but he was justifiably fast asleep. Still, something dark and ethereal had come oozing into his sphere of consciousness, and whether it woke Trowa or not, it was still there. It was tangible, and frighteningly real.

Quatre got out of bed and put on his slippers, being careful not to wake the light sleeper in the other bunk. He gazed out the nearest window for a moment, but found that the feeling was more intense coming from the hall. As he padded out the door in near-total darkness, faint whispers wafted in from beyond the pantry, and he was drawn to the closed door to the kitchen and leaned against it, crouching. Underneath the thin door, a trickle of orange light brushed the toes of his slippers and flickered softly with the combined breath of two clandestine visitors.

"Here...just plunk yourself down and I'll see if there's any milk left in the icebox." The whisper sounded vaguely like Duo, but terribly subdued. What followed was a few small clinks and clunks that corresponded to Duo pouring the last of the milk into a saucepan, setting it on the stove, and lighting the gas with a long, tapered match. With a sympathetic sigh, he strolled back to the kitchen table, where Heero was slightly slumped over and askew in his chair. "You gonna be okay?"

Heero grunted lightly in the affirmative, looking and sounding very tired.

"What was it about?"

"...it was...a year ago, in America. I was in that private box at the Temple of Music, and I was looking down the sights of my rifle at the President..." Heero paused to draw a deep breath and rub his eyes, then continued in a dull tone. "I squeezed off a shot...only I missed _him_ and hit _you_. You weren't even standing next to him until the second I fired."

"Whoa...and then you woke up?"

"Mm."

"Awww." Duo got up and patted Heero's shoulder on the way to the cupboard next to the stove, where he located the canister of Cadbury's drinking chocolate and dumped a few spoonfuls of the sugary brown powder into the bubbling milk. "Well, it's just a bad dream, and it can't hurt you."

"I know it can't," said Heero, "but I'm just not used to them yet. For twelve years, my dreams were the mental equivalent of oatmeal...cold, drab and reasonably tolerable."

Duo smirked as he poured the hot cocoa into two ceramic mugs and carried them to the table. "When you start having hot fudge dreams, let me know," he purred, sitting down next to him, their chairs tilted towards each other. "I might like to join you."

Heero smirked back. "If I could have _that_, the occasional nightmare would be well worth it," he said on his way to taking a sip.

"Hey, you think _that's_ bad? I used to have this recurring dream where I was standing in the middle of this church and it just _blew up_," Duo said, his hands flying out to demonstrate a blast pattern. "Totally exploded, like it was packed with dynamite. Everyone in it died except me. Now _that_ was a nightmare."

Behind the pantry door, Quatre felt Heero's surprise at the admission, and shared it. Duo was such a lively, happy person that it was hard to believe he ever could have suffered from persistent nightmares.

Outside, a gentle rain began to fall, and not long after, a flash of light and a clap of thunder startled Quatre slightly, but Duo and Heero didn't flinch at all. Heero arched an eyebrow. "I thought you were afraid of thunder and lightning," he said teasingly.

"Used to be," Duo said between sips, "but thunder can't hurt me any more than bad dreams can hurt you." In the year that had passed since McKinley's death, both boys had learned a great deal, some of which they never wanted to know, but most important at that moment was the realization that Duo always felt a little more secure when Heero was around, and had let go of some very childish fears.

A second thunderbolt struck, a bit closer than the first, mixing bright white flashes with the soft, muted orange glow coming from the single candle. The rain began to pelt down harder, hammering at the windows and roof in a steady rhythm. Heero sighed. "That's woken up the whole house by now," he guessed.

Duo groaned. "They'd better not _all_ traipse down here looking for hot cocoa...I kinda like having the kitchen to ourselves." He sat forward on the edge of his chair, placing his mug next to Heero's, close enough that their fingers could brush together yet seem to be touching by accident. They didn't say it out loud, but the same thing was on both their minds. It was roughly a year ago that they first slept in the same bed, when Duo was just about paralysed with fear and worry as Heero prepared to cross the Atlantic. What was a tense and uncomfortable night had been transmuted into a sweet memory, one that they enjoyed reliving every time there was a storm.

Suddenly, Quatre felt a faint but warm sensation permeating right through the pantry door. It was unique and had no precedent in his memory. Curious, he mentally grasped the window sash leading to his soul and pushed it open a crack, to let more of the warm feeling in.

Heero was leaning equally closer to Duo now, and they were both ignoring their cocoa. Duo kept looking at him, both anxiously and pleasantly, but with the thought stuck in his head of other sleepless souls trotting downstairs to forage for food, he frequently looked over his shoulder at the stairs or over Heero's shoulder at the back door. He couldn't do what he wanted to do until he felt they were safe.

From weeks of carefully studying the differences between the face Duo showed him and the face he showed the world, Heero knew just what he wanted, and smiled that tricky smile again. Suddenly, he leaned to his left and blew out the candle, shrouding any prying eyes that might have been peering at them, even in Duo's imagination. He then wrapped a hand around the back of Duo's neck, pulled their faces close together, and indulged him in a long, luxurious kiss that distracted them even from a fierce and torrential series of ear-ringing thunder strikes. Duo relaxed and enjoyed letting Heero take the lead, since he was so much better at it.

As they were mutually filled with luscious, burning anticipation, Quatre felt a tingling pressure nibble at his belly and throat as the warm feeling he was curious to explore began taking him over completely. He couldn't see what was happening on the other side of the door, but strangely, he could feel it. He curled up into a ball involuntarily, and his head lolled back as electric pulses crawled up his chest and wrapped themselves over his heavy-lidded eyes. The feeling squeezed his lungs so that he could barely draw breath, causing him to gulp shallow, rapid gasps of air that made his heart race. It all should have been terrifying, but he was overcome by exhilaration and a peculiar ecstasy that had no equivalent in words. The psychic imprints of Duo and Heero saturated the air and washed right through him, identifying the strange feeling as belonging only to them. Then, without warning, it tapered off as the owners slowly broke their kiss and basked awhile in the afterglow. A pained squeak escaped Quatre's lips at it's removal, and the tiny noise forced him to remember where he was, and that he was trying not to be heard. Swallowing, he brushed a hand over his forehead; it was glazed with sweat.

The candle forgotten, Duo took Heero's hand in his own and stood, pulling the other boy with him, and together, still barefoot in their pajamas, they carried their cocoa up to bed. The warmth went with them, leaving the pantry completely and trailing up the squeaking, creaking stairs to their cozy hideaway. After a while, Quatre could feel his legs again, and the rest of him was tingling all over, begging for another taste of the dark magic. He walked carefully and jaggedly back to his own bed, studying Trowa for signs of movement. He was known to be a light sleeper, but if the storm had stirred him, he wasn't making much of it. Quatre slipped under his covers, curled up on his right side, and watched Trowa's back expand gracefully with each breath. He wanted to talk, but didn't know what to say. Soon, sleep took away his anxieties, but only, as it would become apparent, for a very short time.

**********  
  


Milliardo didn't much like the sour look on Lucrezia's face as she read her first letter from home in more than two years. The pair had been secret lovers since their teen years, even as her family was trying to sell her off in marriage to a wealthy American, and when she stormed out of their opulent residence overlooking the Aegean Sea swearing she would never bend to their outrageous demands, they said they would never forgive her. Now it seemed they were making good on their promise.

Lucrezia shook her head once again as she read, exhaling through tersely tightened lips. Milliardo leaned forward over the glass-topped cast-iron table in the conservatory, where they were taking their morning tea, and tapped his fingers on the side of his teacup. "What do they say?"

"Same thing they've been saying all along," she sighed tiredly. "If I marry you, I'm out of the family."

"I can't believe they'd stay angry at you forever."

"You don't know Mama. I'm sure she's got an emergency backup plan that involves sending my brothers here to tie me up, throw me in a potato sack and _carry_ me back home for the wedding."

"Surely not," Milliardo chuckled, taking a sip of his tea.

Lucrezia tossed the letter on his side of the table with a flourish. "Think I'm joking? Read that and tell me Mama's not a lunatic! Why do you think I was a fugitive on the run all this time? You wouldn't _believe_ some of the places I've had to hide out in while you were overseas." She said that in all truthfulness, because Milliardo didn't yet know about her entanglement with a psychotic recluse by the name of Jeffrhyss.

"I'm sorry," the young man said with a tiny smile as he lifted her hand and gave it a kiss. "They never would have found you if you hadn't stayed here to comfort me."

Lucrezia smiled proudly back at him, regretting nothing. "I was only delaying the inevitable."

"This isn't part of some strange Greek custom you've never told me about, is it?" he asked.

"Not really, no...they just really, _really_ want me to marry this man because I'm the oldest daughter. I wouldn't worry, though...eventually they'll give up on me and pick one of my sisters to make an honest man out of Mr. Rockefeller."

Unnoticed or simply ignored by Milliardo, the cook crept into the conservatory carrying a tray of sweet cakes and finger sandwiches he had begged off the butler so he could speak to the elder Peacecraft in person. Lucrezia gave him a little 'hello' smile as he sat the tray down between them, while Milliardo continued right on. "It's disgraceful that an entire family would bully one of its own for purposes of wealth."

"Actually...I tell a lie," she said. "Uncle Myklos is on my side, but he's the black sheep, and nobody would listen to anything he had to say, not in a million years." She shrugged in resignation. "Doesn't matter."

"Uh...'scuse me for interrupting," the chef said meekly, clasping his hands at waist-level, "but I wanted to personally thank you for getting Hilde her job back. I mean, I'm kinda responsible for recommending her to Miss Relena in the first place, and I just...well...it was real big of you, that's all."

Milliardo looked up at the boy, but had difficulty placing a name to his face. At best, he identified him as the peculiar long-haired person whom he thought was a very skinny girl in trousers at first. "You're quite welcome...mister..."

"Maxwell, sir," the chef said with audible disappointment. Maybe Relena and Dorothy were unremorseful snobs who, at times, considered themselves too good to breathe the same air as the staff, but at least they took five minutes to learn peoples' names.

"Well, you just remind your friend to hold her tongue when her anger bubbles over, and I'll try to impress the same point upon my sister."

Already bored with the man's mere presence, Duo slapped on a fake grin and backed humbly out of the room, though Milliardo's attention had already shifted to the tray of goodies before he even made it to the door. The encounter left him unimpressed and feeling a bit downtrodden, in spite of his moral victory, however small. He knew that if he went straight back down to the kitchen right away, Heero would show up eventually, but part of him wanted to go looking for him that moment. In this brief few seconds of indecision while he hung around the back of the first floor, he heard something distant and strange.

"Oh, good morning, Miss--"

"_Shhhh_!"

Duo was instantly intrigued. He stealthily slunk up the south hall to the edge of the foyer, from where he thought the sounds originated.

"Are you feeling better, Miss?" a woman's voice whispered.

"I'm going out, but you mustn't tell anyone," a second, younger voice whispered back. Duo deduced that it was Doris and Relena.

"Miss Dorothy isn't back yet. Wouldn't you like to wait for her?"

Relena paused with mild surprise. She didn't even know Dorothy was out. It didn't really matter, though. "If anyone asks for me, just make up some excuse."

"Yes, M'lady."

Relena escaped quietly out the front door on some secret errand, and Doris went obediently back to her dusting. Duo's curiosity was running rampant, climbing the walls and tearing bits off the ceiling, which it flung at his head with its clawed, reptilian hands. He was an inch away from following her when bells started ringing in the basement. He groaned. It was awfully difficult spying on people when one had dishes to collect and lunches to prepare. The most he could do was tie a string on his finger reminding him to tell Heero what he had heard.

**********  
  


Trowa and Quatre caught up on their chores early so they could take the afternoon off, and found themselves wandering around parts of the city they never knew existed. Among other places, they stopped at a lush, green park, with benches and tall trees and a clearing where some school-age children were skipping class to fly their kites. Nannies walked up and down with frilly prams, young couples strolled together trading coy smiles, and the dogs of the nobility were romping and barking under the watchful eyes of their keepers. A fresh, rain-washed scent rose up from the grass, blanketing everything and everyone in a delicate layer of dewy mist, which only lingered a moment before being scorched away by the late summer sun. It was one of those perfect days one hears about in fairy tales.

The boys picked themselves out a bench that put their backs to the sunlight, taking advantage of the bright warmth without troubling their eyes. From there, they had a pretty good view of most of the action, and conditions were ideal for the commencement of their little experiment.

"Where should we start?" asked Quatre.

"How about those two over there?" Trowa suggested, nodding his head in the direction of two lovebirds walking slowly down the path. Their objective was to test the full range of their abilities and hopefully come to a decision as to whether it would be beneficial to tell Heero and the others about what they could _really_ do.

"Alright..." Quatre re-settled himself on the bench and tried hard to focus his eyes and his instincts on the far-off pair without staring rudely. Usually, emotional impressions simply came to him, without him having to actively seek them out, but it was doubtful whether such a talent could be of practical use. He feared that if he told Heero the truth, he might be disappointed that Quatre couldn't actually read minds, which would have given the group more of a tactical advantage, so he was willing to give it a try. He focused on the couple and concentrated.

The lady wore a dress of bone-white lace, with a matching parasol, open and perched on her shoulder. She continually turned her back to the young man and glanced just past the edge of the parasol at him with a shy smile. The gentleman wore a typically-high-fashion dark suit and carried his tawny straw hat in both hands, following the lady around like a lost puppy.

"He's _definitely_ infatuated," Quatre said confidently, hardly needing his sixth sense to tell him that much, "but she's not so sure...she thinks kindly of him, but I suspect there's another young man she likes better. She's indecisive...though she doesn't want to hurt either of them..." He finally sat back and folded his hands in his lap. "That's about all I can tell, and I can't guarantee I'm right."

Trowa eyed the pair and applied Quatre's commentary to the scene, nodding slowly. "That's not bad, really."

"Yeah, but what good could that sort of thing do us?"

"Well, it won't _all_ be people like that, you'd be doing real spy work!"

"Trowa, that was an educated _guess_ based as much on observation as it was on...instinct. I don't think a potential enemy will be that easy to read."

Trowa shrugged. "I still think you could do great things."

A little bit uncomfortable with that compliment, Quatre wriggled. "Go on...you try something."

Trowa tried something. He looked around and was easily drawn to a scene at least fifty yards away in the clearing. A middle-aged woman not unlike Elsie, clearly charged by her household with walking the master's dogs, was becoming increasingly frustrated by her charges, after foolishly letting them off their leads for some exercise. She was trying vainly to corral three out-of-control tan and white Corgis, yipping and snapping and wrestling with each other, and just generally being a nuisance. Every time the poor woman tried to clip a cord onto one of their collars, they all bolted thirty feet in the opposite direction and began carrying on again. The woman was haggard, tired, and just about ready to cry, for if she lost the master's precious pups, she'd also lose her precious job.

Trowa wondered if the dogs were too far away to be reached by his furtive thoughts, but gave it a try anyway. In the manner in which he communicated with all other animals, he reached out with his mind on what he believed to be that particular frequency that only four-legged creatures could hear. After a minute or so, he began to worry that he was too far away, but suddenly, the dogs froze and sat up, looking in his direction and twitching their fuzzy, triangular ears. Then, all three of them started running towards the boys on the bench as fast as their stubby little legs could carry them. They didn't look like they would stop in time, and Quatre quickly pulled both feet up on the bench and tucked his hands out of sight, but the Corgis came to a gentle halt in front of them, tails wagging and tongues flopping happily.

Disarmed and relieved, Trowa laughed and leaned down to give them all a pat on the head, and they fell all over him, each struggling against the others to lick his hands and receive the bulk of his affection. They were so thrilled to be around him that they didn't notice their weary governess creeping up behind them. With a snap-snap-snap, she clipped all three leads to their collars before they knew which way was up. "There, that's got you, you rotten little fleabags!" the woman crowed victoriously.

"Have they been giving you trouble?" said Trowa.

"Nuthin' _but_ trouble, that's what they is, but _I've_ got to get along with 'em or it's back to washin' dishes for me!" The woman gathered up her tethers and scowled at the dogs, then gazed curiously at the boys. "...'ere, 'ow come they like _you_? They don't like _me_...they don't like nobody, 'cept the master, o'course."

Trowa did a good job of looking innocent. "I have a way with animals."

"Huhm," the woman grunted disinterestedly. "Well, if you fancy _my_ job, who knows, I could very well be outta there in a week's time. Thanks all the same." Giving a sharp but futile command to the Corgis, she tugged on their leashes and away they went.

Quatre's eyes widened, and he slowly put his feet back on the ground. "Incredible! They _loved_ you! They would have done _anything_ for you!"

"Yeah, but it's really no better than a parlour trick," Trowa sighed. "Let's face it, unless we can use swords and shields or bows and arrows, we're not going to contribute anything special."

Quatre shook his head. "I can't accept that, not yet. We _must_ have been given these gifts for a reason, and I can hardly think of a cause more worthy than battling a bunch of megalomaniacs hell-bent on disrupting peace throughout the world!"

Trowa slung both arms over the back of the bench and gave him a tired, heavy-lidded look. "Quat...we found _one_ girl who's cheating on her boyfriend and taught three dogs to sit. World peace is _waaaay_ out of our grasp."

"Well, if you're going to put it _that_ way, of _course_ it sounds lame! How do we know there _won't_ be an opportunity to use our talents? We really ought to tell Heero so at least he'll be aware of all the resources available to him."

"If we do that, we'll just be making ourselves look ridiculous for what could be no reason!"

It seemed like an impossible problem rather like betting on whether or not it would rain on a certain day two months in advance. Quatre tapped his fingers on his knee, pondering. "How about this.....for now, we say nothing...but if we get a chance to use our gifts and they end up benefiting the group, we _have_ to tell Heero. Agreed?"

Trowa gave it some thought, and it seemed reasonable. At least then there might be actual proof of their 'powers', and they might have a quantitative purpose. "Agreed."

With that much out of the way, it was easier to enjoy the picturesque day they would have otherwise been forced to ignore. Still, it felt like they had argued, and Quatre didn't like that. He and Trowa were often at odds over some small thing, and while they always worked through it before moving on to the next task, it still wasn't the smooth, blissful ride down rainbow rivers that Quatre deeply wanted. No matter how hard he tried not to think about it, his early-morning encounter with stolen passion left him wondering if he would ever feel that way on his own, instead of accidentally leeching such feelings from other unsuspecting souls.

**********  
  


In a prestigious office on the first floor of a luxury townhouse somewhere in Knightsbridge, a perplexed and brow-beaten Dr. Pritchard shuffled through his glass and oak corner cabinet full of bottles and vials, extracting a small bottle of pristine white pills. Reluctantly, he sat down behind his desk and handed it over to his stern visitor, a fair-haired girl in a plain gray travelling dress. She looked tired, with purplish circles under her eyes, which were slightly bloodshot.

"Now, it's quite simple," the moustached doctor said, taking off his spectacles and folding them on top of the desk. "Take no more than two pills on nights when you have difficulty sleeping, for no more than three consecutive days, and you must never mix them with alcohol."

"You've said that already," Relena told him indignantly, tucking the bottle into her purse.

"Mmm." Dr. Pritchard clearly didn't approve of her venturing out on her own to procure restricted pharmaceuticals, and eyed her like a runaway child as he clasped his hands in front of him. "I do wish you would discuss this with your brother..."

Relena scowled. "I _don't_ need anyone to hold my hand. This is my problem and no one else's."

Dr. Pritchard shrugged helplessly. He preferred not to dispense drugs to minors so easily, but Relena's money was hard to argue with. They exchanged a few common pleasantries, and the girl was on her way, ending her visit with a verbal reassurance that she knew what she was doing.

As soon as Relena left the townhouse, she ducked into another doorway on the busy street, opened her purse, and looked at the little bottle of tiny white pills. Her sleepless nights had been draining her of her strength bit by bit, and that morning's thunderstorm was the last straw. She had tried everything she could think of, from hot milk to warm bubble baths to soothing music on the phonograph, but nothing worked. She was stressed, confused, frustrated, and four or five other states that she didn't have a name for, and most infuriating of all was that she couldn't pinpoint a single cause. Life itself had been turned upside down, inside out, and put through the mangle, and it was all getting to her.

Hoping that this last resort would be the only one she needed, Relena snapped her purse shut, rubbed her stinging eyes, and hailed a cab back to her own neighbourhood.

**********  
  


Dorothy had fought her way into Lady Une's house first thing that morning, dodging dressmakers, decorators, and sales reps from the catering company, but she was still waiting to speak to the woman of the hour. While she waited in Une's plush front room with the large bay window, watching dozens of extra workers flit past in the hall, she flip-flopped several times, trying to decide to whom she should speak first, Une or Treize. However, after several hours of being told that 'either one should be along shortly,' Dorothy lost it.

All through the house she stormed, sick of being put off and ready for an argument. Each room she searched had a plethora of people, all making plans for parties centred around what would be the wedding of the century, but neither half of the happy couple were to be found anywhere. When she was turned away from the second floor by Une's snooty butler, however, that was a blazing red beacon. She squirrelled herself away in an unpopulated corner and soon located a narrow staircase used solely by the parlour maids, and then used it to bypass the butler altogether.

The second floor was nearly empty, and Dorothy soon zeroed in on Lady Une's bedchamber, bursting in without even the briefest knock. Her victim was there, seated at her white lacquered dressing table with the gilded vanity mirror, wearing only her corset and slip. Her shining brunette locks were piled artistically on top of her head, and she was surrounded by thousands of pounds' worth of new dresses and lingerie, made of the finest silks, satins, and lace.

Lady Une felt a slight draft, but rather than be bothered with actually turning her head, she picked up an ivory hand mirror and held it up at the perfect angle so she could identify the intruder and admire her own beauty at the same time. "Come to congratulate me, I presume?"

"I've been _trying_ to talk to you for _days_, but you're _never_ available!" Dorothy growled. She would have expanded on her point but there was a rustling noise to her left, and when she turned to see what it was, she gasped. There was a man there. There was a man there who wasn't Treize or one of the servants. There was a strange man in Lady Une's bedchamber who was _seeing_ her in her slip and corset. Dorothy was paralysed by the very concept.

The man was standing between the white, gilded bed and the matching wardrobe, scandalously clutching a selection of ladies' negligeés. Une could feel the two of them staring at each other, and twisted around in her chair to gaze pointedly at Dorothy. "Oh, never mind him, that's just Alfonse. Now, you wouldn't come all this way just to have a peek at my boudoir, right? What did you want to say?"

Dorothy was still gaping at the man and turned slightly red, while he stared back. "...Alfonse?"

Une sighed. "Whatever it is, make it snappy, darling, I'm busy choosing my trousseau."

On cue, Alfonse trotted forward with the garments he carried. He seemed...strange. There was an unnatural amount of spring in his step, and the tidy lines of his dark, slicked-back hair were rumpled by a casual turtleneck and a bright paisley waistcoat that seemed to be every colour of the rainbow. "For ze early evening, perhaps with ze pearl earrings?" Alfonse suggested in an oddly floral French accent, holding up the diaphanous delicacies.

Humming and tapping a finger to her lips, Une perused her choices, then pointed. "That one."

"Ahhh, _ex_cellent choice, Madame. Thees ees _verry_ fashionable in Paris."

Dorothy watched with an icky, twitchy feeling as Alfonse trotted back to his spot and jotted down an addition to her Ladyship's order. Once the Baroness regained the power of speech, she turned angrily to Une. "Would you mind telling me what this engagement is all about?"

Une giggled as she patted her neck and chest with a big pink powder puff. "Really, darling, your mother should have explained that to you years ago."

"You know what I mean! With my own ears, I heard you say that you wouldn't marry Treize until you were wealthier than him!" The Baroness folded her arms and waited for a sensible reply.

Alfonse butted in with a pair of long satin nightgowns on puffy potpourri hangers. Une studied them briefly and frowned. "No, no...don't you have anything that will show off my figure a little more than that?" Only after he scurried back to his station did she look back at Dorothy. "So?"

"So...you wouldn't be holding out on me, would you?"

Une laughed. "Oh, don't be obtuse," she scoffed. "If I'd already claimed the money from the tontine, you would have heard about it by now, seeing as the presumed last surviving Winner is living in the same house with you. Besides, I have connections that tell me there's a lot more work to be done in order to thin out the family ranks."

Dorothy paled and put her arms back down at her sides. "You haven't...told the Count about our...little agreement, have you?"

"Certainly not. But then, I've had more interesting things to talk to my affianced about these days, such as how to find the rest of Quatre's siblings and eliminate them." At her Ladyship's words, something sharp and hot like embers stabbed Dorothy in the chest. Had Une just implied that she had broken their pact of silence? Did Treize know that Dorothy was going behind his back to his mistress to swipe a fortune more alluring than even the Peacecraft gold? She stammered, trying to get her bearings and spit out what she wanted to say, but back slithered Alfonse with three more garments, cut more provocatively around the hem and chest. "Oh yes, that's better. I'll have that one, but in this fabric, and the colour of the third."

"Très bien," Alfonse said smoothly. "Madame has _ex_quisite taste!"

Dorothy shot forward to take Alfonse's place as he walked away, and she gasped and choked while wringing the skirt of her mint green dress with both hands. "Y-you said you hadn't--"

"I said I didn't tell him about my agreement with _you_, and as far as that's concerned, I've kept my promise," Une told her, "but I don't recall ever promising not to tell another soul about the tontine itself."

"...but we have a partnership!!"

Une turned back to her vanity mirror, took a thick charcoal pencil out of her bejewelled makeup case, and leaned forward with it, carefully outlining her eyes with the rich black powder as she sighed mischievously. "Yes, well...I find I must make a slight adjustment to the terms of our partnership. Specifically, I'm dissolving it. You were too slow, and wasted valuable time quibbling about the morality of your task. Thanks to your bumbling, little Quatre is still free as air, and probably thinks he's gotten away with something magnificent. Treize, on the other hand, knows how to get things done. His contacts in other countries will be most useful in tracking down the remaining family members and putting them out of the competition. He and I will be working on the tontine together from now on, and in exchange for my information, he's agreed to give me a percentage...as a wedding present. So sorry it didn't work out, darling."

From the way Dorothy's face reddened in rage, Alfonse was a smart man to drop his silk pantaloons and put his fingers in his ears. Everyone from Lady Une's bedchamber all the way to the front door, in fact, was treated to a rare display of multilingual fury as Dorothy began hollering a wide variety of curses, insults, and temper tantrums that started in English and quickly up-shifted into the most violent Italian any of them had ever heard. The snooty butler at the bottom of the stairs ran up as soon as the ruckus started, and the workers all lined the foyer as the Baroness Catalonia was _carried_, slung over the butler's shoulder, kicking and screaming and thrashing all the way.

"Come hai osato?!? Ti sei messa in un mare di guai!! Me la pagherai _molto_ cara!! _Tradimento!!_"

Lady Une made a regal appearance at the top of the grand staircase in her sumptuous red dressing gown, smiling and waving goodbye as her unruly guest was forcibly ejected. No one knew precisely where in the house Count Khushrenada was, but wherever he was lounging around, it was pretty certain that he heard Dorothy's outburst, and smirked to himself as he lit up a cigar.

**********  
  


Ever since that very early morning, every time Quatre saw Duo and Heero together, talking, chatting, or just standing in the same room, he wondered if he was going to get another infusion of that magical psychic warmth, and had to keep telling himself it was none of his business, no matter how good it felt. As the staff were gathering in the kitchen for their supper, the two of them were standing next to each other by the china cabinet full of cracked and chipped cups and plates, but they weren't standing particularly close. Nevertheless, Quatre couldn't stop himself from staring and trying to listen in on what they were saying.

"No idea what she was sneaking out for?"

"Nope, and no idea when she got back either, but she's asked for the crab cakes, so I know she's here _now_."

"It could be nothing...but still."

"Yeah, but still."

"I'll keep an eye on her."

Trowa came in through the back door, drawing Quatre's attention away. He was looking over his shoulder and then went straight to the nearest kitchen window and peered outside. "Isn't that Hilde on the swing in the gazebo?"

Duo laughed. "Yeah, she's been on that thing most of the day. She figures she's entitled to a bit of extra luxury after the way she was treated."

"Isn't that Wufei with her?"

Three more bodies wandered quickly to the window. Wufei was sitting on the swing next to Hilde, and they looked pretty friendly together. "Whoa," Duo breathed. "_He_ wasn't there earlier!"

"I thought he was staying at Catherine's for the foreseeable future," Quatre said.

Heero squinted. "He was..."

Trowa leaned back and looked perplexed. "So what's he doing back here if he's not here to talk to us?" None of them had an answer for that, except perhaps Hilde, who wasn't about to finish her conversation and run inside just to give them an update.

They went on with dishing out their dinner, expecting the girl to come inside whenever she was hungry. Doris was the next one to arrive just as the mashed potatoes came off the stove. She, too, looked out the window, and expressed surprise at the scene. "Is that our Hilde out there on the swing?"

"Yes," Trowa droned, paying more attention to the steamed sprouts making their way around the table.

"And is that the decorator she's with?"

"Yes," Duo and Trowa droned in unison.

Doris shrugged and took her place at the table. Next, Elsie came rocketing down the stairs, and made the same display of confusion out the window as Doris. Apparently the staff weren't usually allowed on the nicer bits of outdoor furniture. She squinted. "Ain't that--"

"Yes," the entire table buzzed.

"And that fella--"

"_Yes_." Everyone was tired and hungry and wanted the subject to drop.

Lastly, Bethany came in, and everyone expected a repeat performance, but she went straight to Heero's side and whispered in his ear. He was right in the middle of dishing out a slice of pot roast onto his plate, and the serving fork stopped in mid-air as he listened to what she had to say. When she finished, she stood back slightly and folded her hands, looking the tiniest bit concerned and a great deal more curious. Heero put the slice of pot roast down immediately. "Thank you." He stood, snapped his fingers once, pointed at Duo, pointed over his shoulder, and made a beeline for the stairs.

Duo was right in the middle of mixing up the gravy and became wide-eyed at the strange summons. Whatever it was, it sounded serious. He dropped the gravy boat off at the table as he made for the stairs, just as Heero was disappearing up to the ground floor. He had to jog all the way up to the second floor before Heero stopped, dashing into a familiar hall. Duo scrambled to his side as he looked up and down the hall with a peremptory glare. "What?"

Heero held a finger to his lips while he finished his surveillance, then leaned back to whisper the news to Duo. "Relena's been in our room."

Duo's blinking increased in speed. "_What_!? When? _How_? We always lock it, and we have the only keys!"

"There must be a master key," Heero said, walking swiftly to their door. "Bethany was walking past and heard noises. She knew I was already downstairs, and she doesn't even know we're sharing, so she had a look. Relena was poking around and then didn't have an explanation for being there when Bethany asked her if she needed anything." They got to the door, and Heero gave the doorknob a turn. It swung open with a short squeak.

They shut the door behind them as they entered and looked all around for signs of...anything. They couldn't believe Relena would steal from them; besides being a highly moral individual, there was nothing they had that she couldn't buy for herself. They also couldn't accept that she was nosing around looking for evidence that they were definitely sharing a bed again, for she seemed to have lost interest in them both recently. Everything seemed to be exactly where they left it, their clothes and books, Heero's jasmine plant, the metallic watchbirds sitting on the dresser, nothing appeared to be missing or moved.

"Maybe she's foraging for a rummage sale," Duo guessed. "Either that, or she's developing some bizarre fetish we'd rather not know about..."

It didn't make sense. Heero was puzzling and puzzling over it, until a horrifying thought struck him. He went to the large, squatty dresser and crouched in front of the bottom-right-hand drawer, the one closest to the window. Defying the pervasive sense of urgency, he tugged the drawer open very gently, so as not to disturb the one crucial object inside, his gun case. Duo looked over his shoulder as he studied it's position, trying to remember if it was in exactly the same place as he left it after the weapon's last cleaning several days ago. He just couldn't remember.

Heero opened the case right where it sat, and his trusty six-shooter was still safely inside. Duo let out a rapid breath and flopped backwards on the bed, relieved, but Heero couldn't relax for wondering if Relena had been in that drawer. Just because the gun was still there didn't mean it hadn't been seen. He sat on the bed for awhile, worrying, and eventually Duo reached up and squeezed his arm, feeling some of the same uneasiness after all. "It's okay."

"...hn." _Maybe I should keep it with me all the time...at least then I'll know where it is, if the lock on the door is totally useless._ They hung around in their violated sanctuary awhile longer before heading back down for dinner, but the eerie feeling of being robbed remained, even though not one stitch was taken. It was a very unwelcome mystery.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


_Next, in Episode Sixty-One: Lady Une and Treize host a lavish engagement party to make everyone they know green with envy, but Relena ignores her formal invitation in favour of a quiet night in with Heero._

Thank you Emy for that Italian lesson! =D Now, there's going to be an announcement on our site regarding an email problem. For now, I'll give you the short version: I can't get into Hotmail, and I think it's a fault at my end. Until it's sorted out, the email form on the Mitsugi page has been redirected to Rachel's email addy, and the poll script has been as well. Stay tuned for more info as it becomes available! *looks at calendar* I'm gonna hafta beg some extra time, because I'm running behind and I've got the cookbook to set up...could you all last until September 30th? Suuure, I know you can. =^_^=


	61. Asleep, Eyes Open double length epis...

**Warnings:** Hm, where do I begin? Aw, just be warned in general. I ain't giving away any hints _this_ time. >=D Well...except one: For God's sake, don't try this at home. Or anywhere else, for that matter.

**Disclaimer:** ...what? You think I have time to write a new disclaimer every week? Do you have any idea how busy I am!? =P Fuggedaboudit.

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Sixty-One: Asleep, Eyes Open

_"Curiosity is only vanity. Most frequently we wish not to know, but to talk. We would not take a sea voyage for the sole pleasure of seeing without hope of ever telling." ~Blaise Pascal, "Pensées" _

September 30th, 1902

Shadow sat quietly on the puffy, quilted, royal blue lounger, a completely round piece of furniture in the den which had no back or arms, was far too short across for a person to lie down on, and really had no practical purpose other than being a kitty pedestal. Shadow was enjoying it. Her pet humans had taken her there and placed her on the puffy pedestal, apparently wanting her to wait there for a moment, so to humour them, she did. Very shortly, her acute hearing picked out the tittering sounds of many more humans, but she couldn't see them. She licked her paws patiently.

"Okay, ready?" someone whispered, and a hand reached around the doorframe to click off the lights. There were more hushed whispers, and a big glob of humans marched through the door, starting with the long-tailed one. Suddenly, they all began to make the same noise at once.

"_For she's a jolly good kitty, for she's a jolly good kitty_..."

Her long-tailed pet human was carrying a plate with something on it that looked like food, but there was a kind of peg sticking out of it with a flame on top. Shadow wondered why they were trying to burn her food, but knew she could always go to the cold-floored food place and fetch something herself if it was ruined.

"..._for she's a jolly good kitty, and so say all of us_!"

They pulled a coffee table up to the pedestal and set the plate down on it, and her two pet humans crouched on either side of her, leaning over and blowing out the tiny flame together. After all the humans started squealing and slapping their hands together, it finally got good, as they all crowded around and petted her. She quickly rolled over to have her belly rubbed, and purred loudly.

"Wow...can you believe she used to be just _that_ big?" Duo said, holding his hands up a scant few inches apart.

"And look 'ow long 'er fur is now!" Bethany chimed in, to everyone's agreement. Every staff member, except Otto, had gathered in the den with presents for Shadow, and they collectively admired the fine feline form she had grown into. Her shiny gray coat had lengthened substantially and required daily brushing, but it gave her a softer, fluffier shape, with great tufts on her hind legs and tail that flew out behind her when she ran around the house.

While everyone else tickled and scratched her, and let her bat their fingers around with her paws, Hilde took the candle out of the mystery food and tapped her fingernail against the dish to catch Shadow's attention. "Here you go, sweetie, eat up!"

Shadow rolled over and sniffed at the dish. It was a big slice of tasty chicken loaf! She dove right in, to the 'awww's of everyone around her. Some pulled up chairs, some sat right on the rug, and Pegan made up a fire to make the den nice and comfy for them all.

"Do you think she knows what day it is?" Quatre wondered out loud.

"Nah, probably not," said Hilde. "Animals can't tell one day from another."

"Oh, you'd be surprised," Trowa suggested, watching the chicken loaf rapidly disappear.

"I hope she _does_ know that today's special, or she'll be expecting this kind of attention all the time!" Duo said, scratching her behind the ear as she licked the last of the meal off her longest teeth. "Who wants to go first?"

Everyone moved at once, and Shadow backed up a few steps to the middle of the puffy pedestal, out of surprise. Doris was given the first opportunity to make her presentation, and she unrolled something soft and bulky from her sewing bag. "I've made you a nice new cushion for your little basket," she told the cat, setting a hand-sewn pillow of purple paisley cotton in front of her. Shadow sniffed it, pawed it, then curled up on it comfortably.

"An' I've bought you a nice new catnip mouse, see?" said Elsie, presenting a cloth toy with black button eyes. Shadow took to it right away and began chewing on its tail to a chorus of laughter.

"When I was a boy on the farm," Pegan said, taking the cream-coloured armchair opposite the fireplace, "we had a cat who loved to look at herself in the mirror, so I'm hoping you'll enjoy this." He reached right over the cat, her eyes following his arm all the way, and propped a little folding mirror up on its side on the coffee table. The feline was quickly enthralled with her dupli-cat, and stuck her nose up against the glass.

Bethany was next, holding up a wooden stick, from which dangled a fluffy, wiggly cluster of brightly-coloured sewing scraps at the end of a heavy-duty string. "An' I made _this_ for ya! Up! Up! Lookit!" The pom-pom of fabric brushed against Shadow's ear, and she eagerly sat up and batted at it while Bethany danced it around on the end of the string. The cuteness level went through the roof.

Trowa puffed up proudly and took something off the floor where he sat, something covered by a handkerchief. "Alright, Miss Kitty, prepare to be amazed." He put the object on the table, whipped off the cloth, and the room fell silent.

Arthur tipped his cap up to scratch at his forehead. "What the flamin' heck's that?"

"My new invention," Trowa said matter-of-factly. It was a small arch made of three disused croquet hoops stuck into a wooden board. Attached to the hoops were dozens of wooden toothpicks pointing inward, like the maw of a miniature sea monster. Nobody could figure out what it was for, and Trowa wasn't telling, but Shadow seemed to know after only a few moments' consideration. She walked up to the contraption and slowly walked through the arch, pushing her head and back against the toothpicks.

Quatre's eyes widened, along with everyone else's. "An automatic cat scratcher!?"

"Whenever she's got an itch, I see her trying to scratch it against the woodwork, and it's not sharp enough. This is better." They all had to applaud Trowa's ingenuity, while Shadow showed her appreciation by padding through the arch three or four times until she was satisfied with its effectiveness.

The gifts didn't end there. Arthur had whittled her a hollow wooden ball with a jingly bell inside that she played excitedly with right away, and Hilde found a pretty silver-tone hairbrush in a specialty shop with a filigree pattern engraved on the handle, the perfect thing to straighten out Shadow's luxurious fur. Quatre presented her with a scratching post to spare the furniture, and Duo had popped for a finely-carved combination food and water dish, highly varnished and decoratively burned with her name and little fish designs. Shadow spent a lot of time purring and licking hands to thank the two-leggers for their generosity.

The last gift came from Heero, who had been lounging rather quietly next to the pedestal. All the time he had wistfully watched Shadow receive her other birthday presents, he held a kind of wide, squatty jewellery box, and finally, under many pairs of anxious eyes, he opened it. Shadow poked her muzzle up to the box curiously. Inside was a jet black collar with turquoise edging almost the exact same shade as the cat's glistening eyes, and with a shining tag of purest silver, engraved simply, 'Shadow.' On the reverse side of the tag was etched Duo's name alongside Heero's, with Bridlewood's address and the phrase 'Reward if found,' just in case, God forbid, she should become lost or separated from her loving owners. While the others exhaled in awe of the beautiful thing, Heero took off Shadow's old, tattered satin ribbon and replaced it with the exquisite new collar, buckling it comfortably around her neck. Once it was fastened, she looked straight at the mirror, and although it seemed impossible, she appeared to be admiring her new trinket.

"Absolutely stunning," Doris breathed, and the rest of the room quickly agreed.

They only had a few moments each to give the birthday girl a cuddle before Pegan stood, clasped his hands behind his back, and glanced at the clock on the wall. "Now then, ladies and gentlemen, the hour afforded to us by the family has ended," he declared, to many moans and protests. "None of that, now. We've had our fun, so let's all get back to our work, shall we?"

Reluctantly, the servants gave Shadow a final pat on the head and filed out, the party officially over. Duo took the first of two armloads of presents upstairs to the bedroom, and Heero stayed behind. When he came back down for the second load, he stopped in the doorway and peeked into the den without entering right away. Heero was still there; he had picked Shadow up as soon as everyone else left, and was walking languidly around the room, cuddling her close. Duo smiled and hid just far enough outside the door that he could watch the sweet scene undetected. It struck Duo again just how much Heero had really changed.

The same thought must have struck Heero as well, for he seemed to be discussing it with his kitty companion. "You probably don't remember the day you met me, do you?" he asked the cat.

Shadow was too relaxed to answer one way or the other, snugly seated in the crook of Heero's arm and resting her head on his shoulder, her eyes drifting blissfully closed as he stroked her back and scratched her neck. Her paws found themselves lying flat on the breast of his jacket, but instead of using her claws on the fine fabric to steady herself, she relied on him not to drop her. She could _never_ raise a claw to one of her favourite two-leggers, except in a dire emergency.

"I was _very_ upset with your mother," Heero continued, speaking softly in her ear, "but I suppose I should thank her. If she hadn't kicked me out of my bed...well, who's to say? I might never have realized that I have a soul mate."

Obscured by the doorway, Duo smiled and barely blushed.

"You're old enough to have had kittens of your own by now, did you know that? And yet, I've never seen you out looking for another cat friend to start a family with. Don't you want kittens?" Shadow merely purred. "...or maybe you're perfectly happy staying here with me, hm? Odd...Duo's the same way."

The chef's ears pricked up at the mention of his name.

"You both could have families of your own very easily, but you both picked me instead." Heero paused to contemplate that. Duo and Shadow had great potential to follow all the natural processes of life, but Heero wouldn't know where to begin, and would probably fall into a rut with someone like Relena, vainly trying to duplicate the joy and completeness that everyone else seemed to stumble across so readily. He realized then that without Duo and Shadow, he would be spiritually alone no matter how many breathing bodies surrounded him. "You're both giving up so much for me...can't fathom why I should inspire such procreative lethargy in people."

Shadow lifted her head, twitched her ears, and glanced around the room. Heero smirked slightly. "If any of these words are too big for you, I can dumb it down," he whispered. Shadow wasn't bothered, and put her head back down. Heero then found a comfy armchair at the far end of the room and lowered himself into it. His voice was so low that Duo had terrible time hearing what was said, but he didn't want to disturb them for the world.

"Well...I'm certainly not going to encourage either one of you to leave...hope you don't think that's selfish of me. I've just recently decided.....I've _chosen_ a philosophy of life that I think I could be quite comfortable with. I've decided that I'm an Epicurean." Heero tilted his head to the side to look into Shadows bright, inquisitive eyes. "Do you know what that means?"

Shadow wiggled her whiskers, but said nothing, continuing to purr contentedly.

"It means I'm not going to deny myself _anything_. I want to expand my consciousness by experiencing everything in life to the absolute fullest. Probably retroactive compensation for years of radical deprivation." Shadow gazed quizzically at Heero again, and he smiled sympathetically. "I know, more big words. I had a bad childhood, that's all...and now I want to make up for it."

Shadow gave the impression of understanding him after all, and twisted around on his arm so she could rub the top of her head against his neck, adding some loving meows to her purrs. She definitely noticed a change in his demeanour over the months as he gradually became less uptight and more catlike, appreciative of a good meal to eat and a warm sunbeam to lie in. On a whim, he lifted her up with both hands and touched their noses together, letting the rest of her dangle.

Duo pocketed his hands, leaned against the doorframe, and smiled. _He really loves her...he doesn't say it, but he shows it. Kinda like him and me, I suppose._ Unable to stay away from such an adorable picture any longer, he sauntered over to the comfy chair just as Heero pulled Shadow down on her back and cradled her like a baby in one arm while rubbing her belly with the other. She loved that. "Don't you two look cute," Duo observed.

"This was definitely one of your better ideas," Heero said, giving the chef full credit for the party.

"Yeah...but duty calls, y'know. It was fun while it lasted."

Sadly, Heero kissed Shadow on the neck and put her down on the floor, then pushed himself out of the chair with a sigh. Acting on previous instructions, Duo pulled up the hem of his white buttoned smock and removed something tucked into his the waistband of his matching trousers, a glossy silver pistol. He handed it over to Heero, who looked at it with despair before putting it back in his hidden shoulder holster. "A lot of things were nice while they lasted." The gun had changed hands just while Heero spent some quality time with Shadow, lest she accidentally paw it while the two of them were snuggling, but other than that brief interval, Heero had been forced to carry it with him at all times, having no other secure place to keep it now that Relena had a master key, and apparently was willing to use it. 

"Well, never mind," said the chef. "It's not always going to be like this. Something's gotta break eventually."

That was as much as could be said about their present situation, and there was no telling how long they would be looking over their shoulders. Duo found it interesting that Heero had Bridlewood's address engraved on Shadow's tag, as if he didn't expect to leave anytime soon, but as they walked out of the den with the cat following close behind, he concluded that a new tag was a small expense, and that someday they would have the distinct happiness of choosing a new one with their own address on it. They couldn't be stuck there forever.

**********  
  


Relena sat curled up on her bed for a long time, contemplating her invitation to Une and Treize's engagement party. Since it arrived in the mail several days ago, she still hadn't decided what to do about it. Every time she read the list of activities, something tickled and poked at the back of her brain, like fate was trying to tell her something. There was to be food, drink, dancing, parlour games, and fireworks.

_...fireworks..._

The word echoed endlessly in her head, but she couldn't understand why. It had nothing to do with the things she needed, such as the truth, and the upper hand.

_...fireworks..._

The echo persisted. She couldn't make sense of it, and spent so long puzzling over it that she missed lunch, even when three different servants and her brother came knocking at her door to call her to the table. It was extremely frustrating that no one would tell her what she wanted to know, and infuriating to think that it could merely be because of her age and gender. She strongly felt she deserved to know why her entire household seemed to be wrapped up in mysteries she couldn't fathom, and why every question led to Treize in one way or another. The pressure inside her brain increased so much in such a short time that she thought she might scream, and was only prevented from doing so by a fifth, and final, knock at her bedchamber door.

"Miss?" said the hollow, wooden voice of Otto. "Young Mr. Wyndham is downstairs, ready to take you to the engagement party."

Relena sank her head down onto her knees. Marcus had received an invitation at the same time she did. Lady Une was clearly playing them both for fools, but when Marcus approached her and offered to make it a less than nauseating evening, she panicked and said yes. Now she didn't want to go, at least not officially. "I'm not going!"

She could hear Otto huff out a terse breath. "It's not very ladylike to disappoint a gentleman at the last minute!"

"I don't care! Tell him I'm sick!"

Relena waited awhile, but no further sounds came from the other side of the door. She felt terrible, treating Marcus so shabbily, but if she was going to get the answers she needed, she had to concentrate on a plan, not on making polite dinner conversation. She also hated Treize and Une for keeping her from a perfectly good party with dancing and champagne and...

_...and fireworks! Of course!_

A thunderbolt hit her right between the eyes, and inspiration rained down. Suddenly, she knew how to work the party to her advantage, and she could start right at her own front doorstep. Hugging her pink ruffled pillow, she immediately let the gears in her head spin wildly, formulating a work of art, a plan of action.

**********  
  


The house became unusually quiet around dinnertime. While Relena had pointedly decided that she wasn't going anywhere, she begged the rest of the family to go out somewhere and enjoy themselves. Dorothy didn't seem all that interested in the engagement party, so she made up a foursome with Otto, Lucrezia, and Milliardo at a randomly-chosen fancy restaurant. Wufei and Hilde had disappeared hours earlier, and Relena had given the rest of the staff the night off, so the manor was virtually empty. Only the butler and the chef remained.

The pair were engaged in idle chatter when a low-pitched bell sounded. They flipped a coin, and Heero lost. He made his way upstairs to the parlour, favourite haunt of young Lady Peacecraft, and entered with a brief and purely formal knock. Relena was curled up on the sofa facing away from the door, and barely turned her head as Heero stood at attention and awaited his orders.

"Shut the door, please."

The butler obeyed exactly, shutting the door and standing close before it.

Soon, Relena looked over her shoulder with an aura of tremendous innocence, fiddling with a bit of ribbon on her dress, and made doe eyes at him. "Come and talk to me?"

Heero forcibly exhaled just below the girl's threshold of hearing, and walked over to the sofa. Relena tucked her legs up closer to her chest, making room, and Heero slowly sat down, facing forward but keeping a careful eye on her at all times.

"I didn't know what to do with myself," the girl said, looking down. "There was _no_ possibility of going to that wretched party, but I didn't want to be alone all night either. You understand, don't you?"

"I suppose."

"Then you won't mind sitting with me? Just for a little while?"

No matter how hard he tried, Heero couldn't think of a valid reason to refuse. She seemed so genuine, so pitifully sincere that it would have been cruel to deny her some simple companionship for a short time. "Alright."

Relena smiled ever so sweetly as he appeared to relax a bit. "It's awfully good of you...I know we haven't gotten along perfectly in recent days, but I always hoped we'd stay friends. There's nothing wrong with that, is there?"

"Nothing whatsoever."

"Good." She swung her stocking feet back down to the floor and sat up straight, reaching over to the end table on her left. "Can I pour you a drink?"

Heero blinked and noticed the small collection of crystal just within her grasp, honestly seeing it for the first time. There was a decanter of whiskey that, at one time, would have been a source of terrible temptation, but now he no longer felt its pull. "No, thank you."

"Oh, go on, spoil yourself," Relena insisted, already pouring a half-glass. "I'm having one, so you might as well join me. I can't let an occasion like my uncle's engagement party pass without _some_ gesture of revulsion, can I?" Before she even finished her sentence, a second glass was poured, and she held it out to Heero with a fresh, beguiling smile.

The butler raised an eyebrow. If she was attempting to ply him with alcohol, she was in for a difficult time, for it took a great deal to get him drunk. Still, at the moment it was only one glass, and he had plenty of time to make a graceful exit before things got out of hand. He took the glass and swirled the amber fluid within, planning his next six strategic moves. "What shall we drink to?"

Momentarily unbalanced by his rapid agreement, Relena took all the bits and pieces balled up in the growing analytical part of her brain, and summarized it, her glass raised. "To higher thinking."

_...interesting._ Heero clinked his glass against hers, and then, being the gentleman that he was, paused to allow her the first sip. Really, he just wanted to watch with shameful amusement as she took a single gulp and scrunched up her entire face in a bitter grimace as it slid painfully down, finishing with a pathetic little cough. He was sorely tempted to swallow his own helping in one gulp to show her how it was supposed to be done, but while he was thinking about it, she added another thought.

"Aren't you cold?" she said with a shiver, rubbing her arm with her free hand. "I'm freezing and I can't think why. Would you make up a fire for me?"

"Some more of that should warm you up quick enough," Heero said, pointing to her glass with his.

"All the same, I'd really like a fire. I love watching the sparks jump around, especially when I'm sad...things never seem so bleak in front of a warm fire.....please?"

That officially qualified as fighting dirty, but it was an easy enough wish to grant. Sighing on the inside, Heero put his whiskey glass down on the coffee table and went to the fireplace. He took a single match out of the container on the mantle and crouched down in front of the stone hearth, lighting a scrap of newspaper from the tinderbox to the right and tossing it into the fire pit. Oddly, the surrounding twigs and logs weren't picking up any of the new flames.

Relena watched him carefully, and took careful note of the exact moment when he appeared to be having difficulty. With both hands, she slowly reached into a well-hidden pocket sewn into the folds of her skirt, grasping a small object, a bottle. "Anything wrong?" she asked, using her voice to mask the sound of unscrewing the tiny bottle cap.

Without turning around, Heero gave his best assessment of the problem, scooping up a pinchful of soggy wood chips with a groan. "Someone didn't close the damper when it rained this morning. I'll have to sweep this out and start all over with fresh wood."

"I can wait as long as it takes," said Relena.

Heero took that to mean, 'I don't care what's wrong, just fix it,' so he took two of the polished copper utensils from the accessory rack and began gathering up the rain-soaked bits to be adequately disposed of in the decorative coal scuttle, for the time being. While his back was busily turned, Relena used miniscule, almost imperceptible movements to take something out of her hidden bottle without making any suspicious sounds. Using her longest fingernail on her skinniest finger, she snagged a tiny white pill and tried to drag it out into her hand.

During the process of cleaning out the hearth, Heero's elbow knocked against the accessory stand and rattled it. The shockwave also rattled Relena, and she dropped the pill. It slid down her dress, hit the rug, and rolled under the sofa, stuck in one of the crevices comprising the floral design. She nearly gasped, but held it in, and then realized she couldn't lean over far enough to look directly underneath her to see if the pill was visible. Heero still looked busy, but already had fresh kindling in the hearth and a second match. Acting fast, Relena reached back into the bottle, dug out more pills--she couldn't tell how many, but it was definitely more than one--and dropped them into his glass.

Just then, a sustainable flame was successfully achieved, and Heero stood to set the burnt match on the mantlepiece. When he turned back, Relena had tucked her feet back up on the sofa, and had one arm wrapped tightly around her, the other nursing her glass. She was staring at him very strangely, when she wasn't trying overly hard not to stare at all. The look she gave him made him think he'd done something wrong. "Is the fire to Madam's liking?" he asked.

Relena hastily nodded.

Seconds passed. "Madam wouldn't like a long stick with a marshmallow on it, perhaps?"

She shook her head.

More seconds passed. "Shall I go, then?"

"_No_!" Relena gasped. She smiled semi-convincingly. "Don't go, you...you haven't finished your drink!" The thought of the untouched drink made her look directly at it. She couldn't see the pills. Maybe she couldn't see them because of the facets of the crystal. Maybe they dissolved as they were supposed to. Maybe she only _thought_ she dropped them in when, in fact, she missed and they all rolled off the coffee table and onto the carpet to join their departed brother. She couldn't tell. It was making her very nervous.

Hesitantly, Heero re-took his position on the sofa and picked up his glass, not really looking at it. "There's nothing wrong, is there?"

"Wrong? ...no..." She watched, zombie-like, as Heero raised the glass, tipped the whole thing back, and downed the shot in the blink of an eye. "I was just...thinking about my uncle...thinking about all his lies...thinking about...about what truths he was hiding..." Just as Heero put the empty glass down, he noticed the fire was waning already, and he got up automatically to stir the embers. Relena's eyes followed him closely as she gnawed on her thumbnail.

As Heero neared the mantlepiece, it blurred slightly, and he blinked and rubbed his eyes thinking it was nothing, since a slight increase in concentration cleared the problem. When he leaned a bit to the side to extract the fireplace poker from the accessory stand, it blurred as well, and as he gripped the handle with one hand, a spurt of dizziness overtook him, and he had to grip the mantlepiece with his other hand. He turned his back to the fire and looked desperately up at the electric light, which was turning all sorts of funny colours and looked like six lights instead of one. By the time he realized that he had been fiendishly duped, it was all over. He took one reflexive step forward and crumpled to the carpet face first, out for the count. The fireplace poker flew a few inches from his limp hand and rolled to a gentle stop, bringing about total silence.

Relena stood and looked over the scene, wide-eyed. Her own glass dropped from her hand, spilling its remaining contents on the rug, but she ignored it, standing over Heero with a blank look. His head was turned to the right, and both arms were splayed out slightly like he'd been smacked with a giant flyswatter.

Gingerly, she stepped around him to his left side and crouched down, scowling. He had fallen at a very bad angle for her purposes, but no matter. She had gone this far, and wasn't about to be stopped by something as trivial as that. With both hands, she grasped the left corner of his jacket and tugged it out from underneath him, searching for the ultimate prize.

**********  
  


Lady Une had spared no expense in transforming her spacious back yard into a garden of earthly delights that was unparalleled in living memory. A scandalous amount of money had been playfully squandered on enormous bouquets of creamy white flowers, cages full of cooing doves, a twenty-piece orchestra, and tables of food as far as the eye could see. As the solo harpist plucked out a lilting melody, the happy couple-to-be strolled around, greeting their huge mob of guests one by one. It was only mid-afternoon, and the party was slated to run well into the night, yet Une already noticed one or two conspicuous absences.

"Your charming niece opted to stay home, I see," she said cattily, clinging to Treize's arm.

"Mmmm, yes, poor darling," Treize laughed without remorse.

"Oh look! There's her little man, Marcus!" Une pointed the youngster out and laughed craftily. He was trying to socialize and be generally friendly towards the other guests, but in the end, he stood alone, not finding any other young ladies who could take the place of his Lena Lilywhite. "Imagine, standing him up like that. Shows that _I_ have a greater influence on her after all."

"You're sure it's you keeping her away and not me?" Treize chuckled.

Une giggled, a peculiar sound indeed. "Whatever makes you happy, darling!"

As far as either of them thought, they had a perfect right to be complacent, for their future was just as rosy as could be. They couldn't imagine anything ruining such a perfect day, and expected even more perfect days ahead. It was perhaps because of this overconfidence that fate decided Treize, at least, was due to be taken down a peg.

**********  
  


After awhile, Duo got to wondering what had happened to Heero, and the short stack of dishes that needed washing didn't keep him occupied for long. Eventually, he had scrubbed the whole kitchen down to a sparkling shine, and Heero still wasn't back yet. _Darn that snivelling little wench, keeping him occupied all this time,_ he thought spitefully.

Duo sat, and waited, and sat, and waited, and began thinking worse things about Relena, things that would require several 'Hail Mary's to make up for. Suddenly, he heard a sharp yip from upstairs. _Frederick,_ he concluded. _Must've seen another dog out the window...although it's already pretty dark outside..._

Frederick barked again, and several times more. He sounded insistent about something, perhaps more than a dog on the other side of the street. Undoing the collar button on his chef's uniform, he cautiously climbed the stairs, following the sound of the desperate yapping. He made it to the first floor, then towards the front of the house, and finally to the door of the parlour, which was slightly ajar. He pushed it open without any concept of what lay inside.

What Frederick was barking so frantically at was Heero, sprawled out face-down on the fringed carpet. Shadow was there too, licking his jaw in an attempt to rouse him, after several obvious red scratch marks to the back of his right hand had failed. A fireplace poker and a whiskey glass co-mingled on the floor, apparently completing the scene.

At first, Duo sighed with disappointment. _Drunk!_ he shouted in his head. _And he promised he'd never get drunk without me there again!_ He crouched down and swatted Frederick away, and the canine hopped up on the forbidden sofa, his job done.

"C'mon you, on your feet," Duo said, giving the boy a shake. No reaction. He tried it again, only a bit harder. "Man...I've heard of being 'dead drunk,' but this is silly! Heero! ...Heero?"

Something didn't seem quite right. The presence of the animals was eerie in itself, and Duo began to worry. He flipped Heero over, shook him, slapped him, but no one could have gotten _that_ drunk off the meagre amount of booze missing from the only visible decanter. Something was very wrong.

He sprinted out into the hall, to telephone Sally.

**********  
  


Over at Lady Une's estate, the food that had been such a big success was nearly gone, and the sun had set, casting the blue pallor of dusk over everything in sight. The stone patio was still filled with couples dancing the night away to the merry tunes provided by the band, and in other areas of the vast lawn, small groups of guests were abandoning their games to sit closer to the warmth of the newly-lit torches. They were getting ready for the grand finale, the fireworks display.

Treize graciously allowed Une to spend most of her time gossiping with equally vapid females from around the neighbourhood, and found himself a quiet corner to enjoy his imported cigar in peace. He couldn't be left alone for long, though, before one of the waiters approached him with an empty tray. That could only have meant that he had a message to deliver. "Beggin' your pardon, sir," the waiter addressed him humbly.

"Yes?"

"There's a young lady askin' after you."

Treize arched one of his forked eyebrows and shook out the match that lit his cigar, tossing it in the grass. "Well, who is it?"

"Don't know, sir, but she says to meet you out by the coach house."

"What did she look like?" the Count said mistrustfully. If it was an old flame resurfacing, his engagement party was hardly the time to reminisce. Besides, he couldn't think of any past courtesans who were currently visiting England anyway.

"Don't know, sir. She 'ad a cloak covering 'er face."

Despite the danger, Treize couldn't help but be intrigued. Without bothering to thank the lowly waiter for the relayed information, he strutted away and glanced over his shoulder at the crowd gathering near the house to watch the fireworks. The coach house was quite near the square of gravel and sand where the professional team of explosives technicians were making their final preparations. As he passed by them, he remembered stories told to him by his oldest relations of the days when fireworks only came in plain white, and felt naturally deserving to have been born into an age of such advanced chemical technologies as red, green, orange, and blue firecrackers.

When Treize reached the coach house, he couldn't see anyone right away, and wondered if it had all been a clever hoax, to what end, he couldn't guess. Bored, he wandered all the way around to the back of the building, away from the prying eyes of the technicians, who really couldn't care less, and he puffed away at his cigar waiting for the mystery woman to reveal herself. At the absolute farthest point from the rest of the party, he got his wish.

"Lovely to see you again..._dear_ uncle."

As a slim, shiny barrel poked out of the darkness, carried by a delicate white glove, Treize wondered if there might still be room for him at the buffet table, if he hurried.

**********  
  


"...and I _tried_ over and over again to wake him up but he just wouldn't budge, and Shadow and Freddie tried too and he's _still_ not moving, an--"

"I get the picture, just take me to him," Sally said hurriedly, and she moved quickly out of the way so Duo could close the front door and run back to the parlour. When they got there, the scene was much the same, only Frederick had tired of the game and wandered off, while Shadow had curled up into a snug ball nestled between Heero's arm and side. Sally crouched right down in her hastily-donned tailored cream trousers and rolled up the sleeves of her pale blue blouse to check the boy's vitals. "Did he eat anything unusual today?"

"Not that I know of," Duo said, sitting down cross-legged as close as he could without getting in the way. "I know it looks like he was drinking, but not _nearly_ enough to--"

"No, not nearly," Sally confirmed after leaning down to sniff Heero's shallow breath. "Two glasses...he wasn't drinking alone. Who else was here?"

"Well...Relena was the only other person in the house."

Sally's eyebrows flew up. "And she drinks at _her_ age?"

Duo shrugged helplessly. Shadow sensed his distress and padded over to him, rubbing her head on his knee. He petted her gratefully and chewed his lip.

Sally found that Heero's vital signs were all a bit off. His blood pressure, heart rate, temperature and respiration were all diminished, but at least they were reasonably stable. Before deciding on a treatment, however, she needed a cause, and began a detailed search of the crime scene for clues, accompanied by the sounds of Duo's self-doubt.

"Maybe he's got some weird food allergy I don't know about! I've heard a lot of oriental people can't handle dairy products, and I keep letting him put milk in his tea! Why wasn't I paying attention!?"

Sally finished her first circle of the room on foot, and began a second sweep on her hands and knees, shaking her head. "If he was allergic to milk, you both would have known it by now, and it wouldn't have necessarily had this effect anyway. No..." She crawled all the way around the sofa, near the fallen whiskey glass, and eventually paused, plucking something up off the carpet. "...no, this kind of deep anaesthesia doesn't happen without help."

At the doctor's tone of discovery, Duo looked up, and saw that she was up on her knees, arms slung over the back of the sofa, and pinching something small and round and white between her fingers. Her whole expression spelled 'Eureka!' "What's that?"

"I'll tell you for certain in a minute," she said, walking quickly back to her black bag and extracting some powders and glassware from it.

Duo swallowed. "What can you tell me for less-than-certain now?"

Sally shushed him while she dropped the pill into a glass tube and added a dribble of whiskey from the decanter, watching the speed at which the pill dissolved. Closing her thumb over the tube, she inverted it, then turned it upright again and licked a tiny bit of the liquid off her finger, detecting no change in taste or smell. "The simplest solution is often the correct one, and since I don't have time to waste on complicated solutions, I'm going to blame this on chloral hydrate."

She received only a blank look from Duo.

"Sleeping pills. One or two pills gives you a good night sleep. One or two pills combined with alcohol gives you a coma. It's not generally lethal, unless you really overdo it, but even so, the side effects can be nasty."

Duo knew for an iron-clad fact that Heero wouldn't try to kill himself, nor was he having difficulty sleeping, which left Relena as the only possibility, but at the moment, he was too blinded by abject fear to be angry at her. That would come later. "Well, if that's all it is, you can fix it, right?"

"If that's all it is, theoretically...it should clear his system in a few hours," she deduced. "But on the other hand, I have no way of knowing how much he's had. It could have been an overdose, and I don't like his temperature at the moment."

That scared Duo most of all. He had just learned the subtle difference between 'stable' and 'serious' when it came to a patient's health. Suddenly, he shook all over, and rushed behind Heero to prop up his shoulders and head, wanting to be able to heal him with a single touch. He squeezed his eyes shut and hung his head. "I left them up here for more than an _hour_! If I'd only come up sooner, he'd--"

"You don't know that." Always the calmer set of gray cells, Sally was busy sorting out some herbs and powders from her red satin pouch with the embroidered dragon. "This stuff gets into your blood almost as fast as you can swallow it. What we have to concentrate on now is overpowering it, because if we can wake him up, we have a better chance of purging his system before any permanent damage takes place."

Duo paled. "W-what kind of permanent damage?" Sally didn't answer, focusing more on her work, but she had said just enough to terrify the already shaken chef. "Tell me! What could it do to him!?"

"I'm not even considering that option until this doesn't work," the doctor said, getting up to open the liquor cabinet along the west wall. Inside, she found a bottle of seltzer water, which was quicker than running downstairs to the kitchen and the brass taps, and carefully spritzed some of it into a glass. Next, she dumped a small assortment of powders into the seltzer and swirled it around. "Here, give me a hand..." With Duo's help, she propped Heero up far enough to tilt his pale head back and literally pour the mixture down his throat.

"You gonna tell me what _that_ is?"

Sally sealed up the container the powder came from, held it up to her face, and shook it with a smile. "Caffeine ain't got nothing on me."

She wasn't kidding. Within moments of ingesting the pungent potpourri, Heero began to gag and cough violently, the spell momentarily broken. Duo went straight to work slapping him on the back, and Sally poured more seltzer to start thinning down his bloodstream with. As soon as he had enough muscular control to hold a glass, they shoved one after another into his hand, telling him to drink. Eventually, his eyes stopped watering, and he managed to look up and see Sally's face, utterly perplexed. He tried to choke out the word 'what' to begin a question he didn't know how to finish, but couldn't quite form the letters properly.

Sally was already putting her vials and potions away, satisfied with the result. "Mickey Finn called while you were out. I told him to leave a message."

"...who?" Heero coughed.

Duo ran a hand through his bangs, wiping away a thin layer of sweat. "Knockout drops, Heero. Relena nailed you good."

"Now all we need to know is _why_," Sally said, buckling up her black bag and yawning once from the effects of her own diagnostics.

"...Relena..." Heero knew something unpleasant had been recently attached to that name in his mind, and as his head slowly cleared, he remembered. It worried Duo, seeing the paralytic look on Heero's face as he felt along his side under his jacket, and finally he slapped the hand over his eyes and curled over in defeat. "_Ikkene_..."

"What?"

"...she took my gun."

None of them wanted to believe it, but there was no simpler explanation for the empty shoulder holster, amid all the other evidence of treachery.

"...hello? Anyone home?"

Distant voices dragged them from their morbid thoughts. "Tro an' Quat," Duo breathed. "If they're back already, the family can't be far behind."

Heero grabbed Duo roughly by the front of his shirt, fighting the urge to give in to the remnants of the sleep drug. "You have to tell them...to go find her. She's out there...running around with a loaded weapon..."

Even doped up, Heero's brain was quicker than Duo's at figuring out why that particular combination on this particular night was dangerous. "Oh my gosh...the engagement party is tonight. But you don't think she'd--"

"What _wouldn't_ she do, after doing this much!? Find her!" Yelling wasn't the best use of Heero's limited resources, and after issuing his instructions, he flopped back down on the rug and wheezed with exhaustion.

Duo and Sally got up together, but she stopped him from leaving the room, pulling him aside for an important whisper session. "I'll go tell them what's happening. I want you to stay here with him."

"But I should be out there looking with them! You're the doctor, you should stay here! Heero needs you!"

Sally yawned again, and her reckless behaviour with the chloral hydrate was starting to catch up with her. "I'm not going to be any use to anyone in an hour or less. I've got just enough time to fill the boys in and send them on their treasure hunt. In the meantime...I know you'd rather stay with Heero anyway. Am I right?"

Duo looked at his shoes. "...yeah..."

"Then keep him awake," she said, patting his arm. "Walk him around. Make him drink some more water, even if it keeps him up for the rest of the night. Then you can let him sleep without worrying about whether or not he'll wake up." She looked to the side and saw that the patient was already forcing himself to sit up and take some deep breaths. "I don't know, though...he's a lot tougher than he looks sometimes."

She left the boys to pick up themselves, pick up the room, and get out of sight before Milliardo and the others came home. There would probably be hell to pay no matter what happened in the next few hours; how much or how little depended on Relena, the one factor they could never hope to control.

**********  
  


Treize couldn't help but find the whole situation criminally amusing, and when Relena stepped out of the shadows levelling a gun at his head, he wanted to laugh out loud. "And what's this? Out playing cowgirls and Indians? Now there's one thing I actually thought you were too _old_ for."

Relena's eyes were cold steel. "I'm not too young, I'm not too old, I'm not too anything."

Treize smirked with his whole face, like the very idea of his niece being assertive was laughable. "If you insist," he scoffed. "Now, why don't you tell me what this is all about? If you're still bitter over that little misunderstanding about the gold, then--"

"You'll talk when I tell you what to say, not before!!"

The count actually flinched, though still smiling. She almost sounded like she meant it. "Fine. What do you want?"

Relena swallowed, adjusting her grip on the weapon. She was too far away to disarm quickly, but definitely close enough to shoot straight, if she knew how to shoot at all. "I want the truth. I want to know everything that's going on that _nobody_ wants to tell me because I'm _just little Relena_ and I can't understand _anything_!"

Treize shrugged. "What makes you think there's anything to tell?"

Relena reached up with her thumb and pulled down the gun's hammer with a click. She'd seen it done before, in moving pictures, so she knew it would work.

"Bluffery doesn't suit you, dear. That toy isn't even loaded, is it?"

"It's loaded."

Treize snorted and paced around, chuckling and paying more attention to his cigar than anything else. "You came all this way to shoot me within earshot of five hundred party guests? You'd never get away with it, even if you found some tiny scrap of courage, or _hysteria_, that could make you pull the trigger."

"Oh, I'd get away with it," Relena promised him. Just then, high above the coach house, the fireworks display began, showering the sky with bright sparkles and piercing the air with loud cracks. The girl had to raise her voice a little to explain her reasoning, what with the thundering explosions and the cheering crowd as competition, but it was a thrilling necessity. "You see, everyone's _expecting_ loud noises, like firecrackers and gunshots! I could put six bullets in you right now, and they'd all think it was part of the entertainment!"

The Count's smile vanished. "You're not serious."

Relena fired a shot a hand's breadth from his ear to prove how serious she was. Treize ducked and went deathly pale as he realized he was actually in mortal danger, but he wasn't done talking until his corpse hit the ground. "If you kill me, you'll never get the answers you want!" he shouted overtop of the fireworks.

"So there _is_ something to tell!"

"Yes, and you'll have to treat me a little better than this to hear it!"

"I don't _have_ to kill you, Uncle." Relena suddenly put both hands on the gun and pointed it a good deal lower than before. Treize visibly cringed. "I could just render you useless to your future bride, that should be enough!"

Faced with the threat of an excruciating appendagectomy, the Count regained his composure surprisingly fast, taking another long drag of his cigar. "You drive a hard bargain. It's possible that I underestimated you."

"I'm not interested in compliments," the girl spat, still pointing the gun somewhere below the Count's bellybutton.

"Alright...I'll tell you the truth," Treize bargained with a brave smirk, "but you have to agree to something. You have to agree to listen to the _entire_ truth, meaning you can't pick and choose. If what I say frightens you, you can't turn away! Take it if you want it so badly, but don't cry about it once it's yours!"

He was so confident that it made Relena doubt for a moment if she really wanted to know. It only lasted a moment, though. "Fine."

"Fine." And Treize proceeded to tell her everything. Absolutely everything.

**********  
  


Trowa found a map of the city and plotted out the most direct route between Bridlewood and Lady Une's, while Quatre sat tensely and meditated, trying to centre himself for an important task. After Sally came stumbling downstairs, gave them the abbreviated version of the night's events and hailed a cab home, they didn't know what to think, but they knew what to do. Quatre was the best possible person she could have asked to go looking for Relena, and only the two of them knew why.

They struck out into the darkest night already fatigued and ready for bed, but they shook off their doziness for the sake of their leader's orders. The fog was rolling in, and it was increasingly difficult to see the farther they strayed from home, but Quatre didn't need to see with his eyes. He knew exactly what Relena's soul felt like, and if she was in distress, she would be even easier to pick out when most people were getting ready for bed. It was more than a half-hour's walk spent before Quatre suddenly veered off in a new direction, with Trowa close on his heels.

They wouldn't know for a minute or two how close they were to finding the girl, for at that moment, she was huddled in a corner between two tall spruce trees in a public park only a few hundred yards away, shivering from shock much more than the cold, despite the thin cloak wrapped tightly around her. Her hands were tucked in tightly somewhere between her knees and her waist, and she stared at the ground in front of her feet, shaking and whimpering. She never expected to hear the things Treize told her. She thought it was just a case of attempted larceny for personal gain, or a bid to discredit her family somehow, but _this_! This terrible truth, this horrid reality that she never knew existed was crushing her, twisting and bending her into a shape she couldn't hold without cracking. When she woke up that morning, the world was ruled by honest people who believed in justice and goodness and loving their neighbours, but now she saw that was an illusion.

She had stopped crying only a little while ago, but tears continued to stain her cheeks. She could no longer think in complete sentences. It was all a garble of shapeless threats and broken dreams, and she was sure her uncle was laughing at her, somewhere. He was hoping this would happen. He was _counting_ on her weak spirit to crumble when he overloaded her with horrors born in the underworld, and as she sat there in a sobbing heap, he was winning.

"...here she is!" A soft, lilting voice appeared to her left, and soon there was someone crouching next to her, but that was all she was aware of in her state. Her fair-haired visitor put an arm around her and felt her forehead. "Relena? Are you alright? Talk to me, please..."

A second person, this one with cinnamon hair, crouched on her right-hand side and gently pried her arm out of her bunched-up skirt. Heero's pistol dangled precariously from her half-open hand, and the boy carefully pulled it away, watching her face for any sort of reaction. He raised the muzzle of the gun to his nose and inhaled in short spurts. "It's been fired," he said quietly.

"Let's just get her home and worry about that later," the other boy said, and he slung the girl's arm around his own shoulders. The cinnamon-haired boy did the same, and together they stood her back on her feet. Though she still wasn't coherent enough to recognize either of them, she allowed them to gradually lead her away from the park and back to her home. All the way, she could neither see nor hear her surroundings, experiencing instead a kind of shock-induced sensory deprivation. Her vacant blue eyes watered of their own accord, but an eerie calm slowly spread over the rest of her face. Already, a tiny speck of her soul, one that was barely strong enough to endure the revelations of the evening, was trying to be a stabilizing influence, singing pleasant songs from her childhood, and telling her to rebuild. If she made it through this firestorm, she had a faint hope of ending up stronger for it, but it would take time.

**********  
  


The rest of the household was home by the time Relena was brought back. She was practically comatose, though she could walk and follow directions easily enough. Unfortunately, once Heero was well enough to walk and talk on his own, Sally went home, so there was no one to diagnose Relena's strange affliction, and she silently resisted the family's best attempts to find out what was wrong. Frustrated and very worried, Milliardo finally gave up and sent her to bed, asking Lucrezia to watch her carefully for the rest of the night. The best they could hope for was that she would be able to verbalize what had happened to her by the morning.

Duo and Heero stayed well out of their way as soon as the front door opened, announcing Her Ladyship's fateful return. Just in case questions started flying in all directions, they didn't want to be hit with anything they couldn't reasonably answer, given the circumstances. Besides, Heero hadn't fully recovered from his chemical attack, and just needed to heal himself with natural sleep. Trowa made a secret trip up to their room to deliver the gun and describe Relena's condition, then flew back downstairs to hide from the family. Duo and Heero hid in their bedroom as well, pretending to be asleep already, and listened through the heating vents to what little they could before shaking their heads at it all and preparing for bed.

"Feeling better?"

"Some."

"Want more water?"

"...ungh...no, thank you."

"If you don't mind my saying so," Duo ventured, "it's kinda weird that a secret agent with so much training could get levelled by a 95-pound bunny rabbit in a pink dress." Heero glared, but Duo didn't back down. "I'm just sayin', is all..."

Heero dropped his head and sighed. "I don't know what's what anymore."

They were both changing out of their work clothes by then, but were too engrossed with the mystery at hand to be concerned with Victorian modesty, and disrobed in the same room while they talked. "How could she manage to drug you anyway? I thought you were supposed to have all these conditioned resistances and stuff."

"I have a moderate resistance to more than a dozen lethal poisons," Heero said with a hurt tone of slighted pride.

"But not liquor and pills."

"Not...liquor and pills." It was a stinging admission, to say the least.

Duo thought it best to change the subject slightly, but couldn't find any subject that was better or worse than the current one. "I can't figure it out," he said for the third time at least, pulling his black pajama top over his head. "She's never showed any interest in guns before. Why would she want it? What did she do with it?"

Heero shook his head, drowsily bewildered as he tried to change clothes with hands and fingers that just wouldn't work. "I only know this much...mine is the only firearm in the house small enough to be concealed in a woman's dress."

Duo was surprised that Heero would know such a thing. "Really?"

Heero made it as far as getting his black pajama bottoms over his shorts before having to stop and regain his bearings. The dizzy spells were less frequent now, but they weren't completely gone. "Everything else is hunting rifles. I know because I've already looked in every corner for an inventory of deadly weapons. It was one of the first things I did when I arrived here."

"...yeah, that does make sense, actually." Duo wandered into the bathroom and unravelled his braid as he mulled it over. "She might've killed somebody, and we'd never know about it. What if she wore gloves when she did it? Then the only prints on the gun would yours, mine, and Trowa's! What would we do?"

Too exhausted to contemplate it, Heero slumped forward a bit and shook his head with his eyes closed.

"Damn...we'd better hope she didn't do anything stupid, or we'll _all_ catch hell for it, and I've already seen enough of jail in my short life. You make sure you scrub that thing clean if the police ever--" Duo stopped in mid-thought when he came out of the bathroom and looked at the bed. Heero was slumped over on his right side, fast asleep and deeply entangled with his pillow, still wearing his uniform shirt. Duo looked pitifully at him. _Aw. Poor guy's worn out..._

He brushed a few more long strokes through his hair as he walked back to the bed, then crawled up behind Heero and set the brush on the bedside table. "Rough day, I know...the kind that won't go away quick enough." He pulled Heero back up into a sitting position, but the butler was soundly asleep, and this time was staying that way. His green pajama top was lying rumpled on the bed just a few inches away, and it seemed a shame to put unnecessary wrinkles into such a nice dress shirt by letting Heero sleep in it, so Duo began wriggling the boy's arms out of it, peeling the shirt off and tossing it in the corner. Heero's dozing form continually wanted to flop over on its side, so Duo had to clutch him close with one arm while snagging the green fabric with the other. It was only then, after sharing close quarters with Heero for an entire year, that he noticed something unusual.

The two of them had rarely been very close without at least one layer of clothing between them, and never had Duo seen Heero's bare back, but now he could see something wasn't quite right about it. There were dozens of fine lines cris-crossing his thin body, some lighter than others, and some only barely visible in the dim lamplight. Duo hesitantly ran a hand over the skin and found it was rough and deeply scarred. It wasn't at all difficult for Duo to imagine what implement of torture could have caused that sort of damage. He wrapped both arms tightly around Heero from behind and hugged him, sighing as his loosened strands of chestnut hair draped over the boy's shoulders. The strange way Heero spoke earlier about not wanting to deprive himself began to make sense. He had suffered enough.

"You really scared me today," Duo whimpered softly.

Heero was still unresponsive, and would likely be that way until breakfast. Duo collected himself long enough to wrangle Heero into his green pajama top and tuck him into bed, then got up and locked the door, propping a chair in front of it, as was his paranoid custom now. He shut off the bedroom light, and blew out the lamp on the bedside table, then checked on Shadow, fast asleep in her basket with the new purple paisley cushion, all while re-braiding his hair into a brown blob that was less tidy that the frizzy rope that preceded it.

An uneasy feeling overcame him, the feeling that not one of them involved with the sleeping pills incident could be one hundred percent certain whether or not they would have a home by the morning. What would Relena have to say once she came to her senses? What would she confess to? Who would she blame? Would Scotland Yard come knocking at their door? It hurt just to breathe, thinking about it all. Duo crawled under the covers, coiled his arms around Heero's waist, resting his head in the middle of his green pajama top, and thought hard about bluebirds and boxed chocolates until he couldn't think anymore.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


_Next, in Episode Sixty-Two: A delegation approaches Heero with a formal proposition regarding his newly-formed cabal, while Marcus laments over Relena's sudden withdrawal from the world. Duo receives a long-awaited mail-order package._

My gosh, that was tiring. =o_o'= Did you like it? =D A lot of this was written while listening to U2's "Electrical Storm," and I wonder if it had any influence... *shruggle* Wow. Rachel and I have a jam-packed couple of weeks ahead of us. Birthdays, relatives, exams, Canadian Thanksgiving...we don't want to impose on anyone, but we need a little time off. *sweatdroppy* So, I'd like to set the next installment for October 16th. *ducks hurled objects* Aw, please? It'd just be too rough on us, to make it any sooner, and we need to back up and sort out the next couple of months' worth of the plot. *flutters eyelids* Anyway, this is a lot to take in all at once, I figure...you all need time to, er, digest it. Yeah. =9_9'= And in the end, it'll drive your curiosity wild. =^_~= ...I hope.


	62. Grapevine

**Disclaimer:** ...what? You think I have time to write a new disclaimer every week? Do you have any idea how busy I am!? =P Fuggedaboudit.

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Sixty-Two: Grapevine

_"What are the three most widely-used forms of communication known to man? Telephone, telegram, tell-a-girl." ~Old joke _

October 16th, 1902

The postman's burdens were becoming larger and heavier lately, and as Otto habitually collected and distributed the morning mail, he became increasingly suspicious of the plain brown packages being funnelled into the kitchen. Packages coming in meant money going out, and if there was a leak in the seemingly unsinkable ship that was the household budget, the spendthriftery of the chef would be first on the list of things to investigate.

"Delivery for the kitchen..._again_," the house steward declared acridly, popping out of the servants' stairs with three mysterious boxes.

Duo looked up, grinned, and dropped the potato he was peeling to run over and snatch the packages away. "Great! Thanks!"

Otto hung over the boy's shoulder, looking dour and menacing as the chef unwrapped the top box on the only clear patch of kitchen table that could be seen. "You've been getting an awful lot of those recently..."

"Mm hm..." Duo was hardly listening as he tore through the butcher's paper and extracted one shiny item after another, practically drooling.

"It must be costing quite a lot..."

"Check this out!" Duo exclaimed, twisting around and holding up a hollowed-out flower shape made of metal, dangling from a long handle. "It's one of those timbale thingamajiggers! These are supposed to make great desserts!"

Otto cleared his throat. "What I'm _trying_ to say is that you seem to be over-investing our money in--"

"And I've got a boiled egg-slicer, a citrus zester, some nifty slotted spoons, a coffee pot..."

"We _have_ coffee pots," Otto protested, pointing to the boxy tin canister on the stove.

"Ah, but _this_ is a _New England_ coffee pot," Duo said, proudly lifting the shiny cylinder out of its box. He held it up and singled out each of the classic features for individual consideration. "Note the tapered base, the distinctive slant of the spout, the delicate--"

"You wasted perfectly good money on _that_!?" the bear bellowed. "What did it _cost_!?"

Duo paused, slightly offended. "Fifty-five cents, and I'll have you know it was an absolute _steal_." He paused again. "Plus overseas shipping...plus insurance..."

Otto huffed in annoyance, having to lean one hand on the table. "This is exactly what I warned you against doing," he growled as other random staff members trickled in to see what all the yelling was about. "You keep ordering frivolous things from other countries when practically identical things can be found easier and cheaper less than thirty miles away!"

"I only do the mail-order thing when I can't get exactly what I want locally," Duo said sternly, arms folded.

Otto looked down at an unopened package, and to his dismay, it was only from as far away as Newcastle, so he had one less piece of ammunition. However, he knew where to get more. "What's this?" he asked, planting a thick finger down on the middle of the package.

"Waffle iron."

"You made waffles last _week_. You _have_ a waffle iron."

That got Duo's dander up to the same level as Otto's very quickly. "Oh, you wanna _see_ what passes for a waffle iron in this house? Huh!?" While Doris, Quatre, and Bethany converged on the opened boxes and began poking through their contents with interest, Duo stormed over to a deep cabinet near the icebox, threw open the door, and extracted a cast-iron monstrosity.

It was two massive blackened jaws, flattish but with some depth to them, held together by a squeaky hinge and levered by a pair of unprotected handles nearly three feet long. The relic was designed for use over an open flame, but when the kitchen was converted to gas, several of the ancient iron utensils were tossed aside into the cupboard in the hopes that someone, somewhere, would find a use for them. It took both hands to lift the thing, and Duo could only cart it a few inches off the floor before dropping it with a heavy metallic clang. He was lucky it didn't crack one of the floor tiles. "_There's_ your stinkin' waffle iron! You should see the trouble it takes to get it up on the stove, and fill it, and cook it...you've gotta have arms like Eugen Sandow!"

Otto snorted and looked away.

"Now, let's have a look at a real waffle iron," the chef said, stepping over the sooty carcass to get to the kitchen table. In a flurry of string and brown paper, the box from Newcastle was swiftly unsealed, and a compact, stylish treasure was unearthed to hushed whispers of awe. "Look at that...I can pick it up with one hand..."

"It's still an unnecessary expense," Otto grumbled.

"Oh, look," Quatre interrupted, taking some aluminum shapes out of the same box. "There's some extra pieces!"

"Yeah, those are inserts," Duo told him. "See, you set these in the bottom half of the iron before you pour the batter in, and you can make circles, diamonds, bars, triangles..."

"Ain't that clever!" Bethany crooned.

"And that's not all! If you put those four little wells in back-to-back, you can make pocket sandwiches! And if--"

"I give up," Otto sighed. "There's nothing else to be done except wash my hands of a foolish little spendaholic like you."

Duo's eyes narrowed, while his right hand closed on the handle of a conveniently available meat cleaver, and the other three servants backed away fearfully. He slowly wheeled on the house steward, who actually shrank a bit under the boy's well-polished deathglare, and the wild and angry flailings of the giant knife. "So I'm a money vacuum, am I? You think you're such a hot shot, flopping around the house and giving orders! _I_ get the _joy_ of chopping up dead animals!" He stomped over to a tall cabinet in a corner and clamped his free hand on the tiny doorknob. "Do you know who has the biggest wardrobe budget of the entire staff? _I_ do! Why? Chopping up dead animals, that's why! It's a filthy, gross, disgusting job! Chickens don't come straight from the farm with their giblets removed! Little lambs and piggies might not come to me in one piece, but they've still got bones and junk sticking out of them! _I_ have to deal with that _here_!"

The others all scooted away from Duo with icky looks on their comparatively angelic faces. Heero clomped down the stairs with yet another brown parcel for Duo in his hands and stopped as he saw the four of them cowering and cringing in a loose glob on one side of the kitchen. He followed their strained gazes to the other side and saw an angry-looking Duo, holding a meat cleaver in an oddly threatening position. He decided to wait for more information before drawing conclusions.

"You wanna see how I pay for all this stuff before you accuse me of embezzlement!?" the chef snarled, and he yanked open the cabinet door. On the inside of the thin wooden panel, hanging on a peg, was a second chef's uniform, nearly identical to the crisp, clean, whiter-than-white garment Duo was wearing. The difference was obvious; food stains representing every colour of the rainbow and spanning sixteen months were blotched and blurred all down the front of the second shirt. Hundreds upon hundreds of meals must have left their mark.

"_Here's_ where I got the cash!" Duo yelled, pointing at the hideous mess with the cleaver. "I get enough money for a new suit every month, but that's as far as the budget will stretch, you said so yourself! Never mind the fact that the family's net worth just tripled, there's no extra money for any of the new stuff out on the market that I want to cook _your_ meals with! So this is what I have to do...keep using that shirt for all the messy jobs, and save the one I'm wearing now for showing off around the house. How else could I look this tidy all the time?"

He made a good point, and his plan made ingenious sense. It now seemed logical why Duo always appeared fresh as a daisy in a perfectly white tunic, though nobody had ever wondered how it was done. Otto looked uncomfortably to the side, trying to salvage the tattered remains of his authority. "Well...that...can't be very hygienic."

"Nobody's died yet, have they?" Duo shot back snidely, perching his cleaver hand on his hip with the blade sticking outward. "Anyhow, I give it a good boiling in bleach once in awhile, and you can't argue with results. By making do with what I had, I managed to put the extra clothing allowance in a cookie jar, and even after using it to buy all those gadgets and gizmos, the house is _still_ up four pounds and change. I've got it all figured out. Check my receipts against the books if you don't believe me."

Otto was well and truly beaten. All he could do was grumble something to the effect that people should tell him such things up front instead of turning every minor discrepancy into a big flaming production, and then he shoved past Heero up the stairs in a hasty escape. Duo exhaled deeply, shutting the cupboard, putting the cleaver away, and running both hands through his bangs as he calmed himself. If there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was having his intellect questioned, to say nothing of his integrity.

The two housemaids scurried away as well, and Heero strolled over to the chef with the extra package. "The postman had to make two trips," he said offhandedly, unaffected by the skirmish. "He just dropped this off for you."

Duo perked up right away and rushed to read the label on the enticing brown box. As he realized what it was, his eyes lit up like firecrackers, and a jubilant grin spread across his face. "Yes! This is it! This is the one I've been waiting for!" He grabbed the package out of Heero's hands and hugged it.

"What is it?" Quatre asked.

Duo tightened his two-armed grip protectively, with a ravenous gleam in his eyes that suggested the item was not purchased with the cookie jar funds. "_This_.....is _mine_."

Heero and Quatre looked blankly at each other.

"Can I borrow your room for a minute?" Duo asked the stunned gardener.

Quatre shrugged slowly. "...sure..."

"Great! Don't either one of you move!" In a flash, the chef dashed out the north door to Quatre and Trowa's room, leaving confused looks behind him.

After a moment or two, Heero smirked a bit, then put on his business face as he turned to the treasurer of his little spy group, putting his hands in his pockets. "We've got the meeting room at Catharine's from one to three-thirty this afternoon, so we might as well lunch there."

Quatre nodded. "What's on the agenda?"

"Training exercises," said Heero. "Before we decide on what we _should_ do, we ought to figure out what we _can_ do, and improve on it."

"Seems reasonable," Quatre agreed. "What kind of trai--" He quickly snapped his mouth shut when a fast, light set of footsteps flew down the stairs. Hilde emerged from the stairwell, paused at the bottom, looked at the mute boys looking at her, and smiled sweetly.

"What are we all talking about down here?"

"Nothing," said one.

"Nothing," said the other.

Hilde thought. "Uh huh. I just came down to get a drink of water."

"Okay," said one.

"Go ahead," said the other.

Having a private conference room at the pub was a godsend, for the boys sometimes found it exceedingly difficult keeping their affairs secret from the rest of the house. It was as much for the safety of innocents as for anything else, and Hilde was a sweet girl who didn't deserve to be dropped in the middle of their problems. She fetched a glass from the cupboard and went to the tap in the basin, giving it a twist while keeping both eyes on the mysteriously silent lads. "So...what's new?"

Once more, Heero and Quatre looked blankly at each other, but they were saved from making feeble excuses by the disembodied voice of Duo floating in from the hall. "Are you guys ready?" he sang.

With a bit of surprise, Hilde joined the other two where they stood near the table, and the trio made general noises of preparedness for whatever point of interest Duo was about to put before them. With a long, artistic flourish, Duo stepped out of the shadows and slowly strutted around in a circle, and it didn't take long for the others to notice what was different. The chef had swapped his duty trousers for the contents of the package, a pair of snug-fitting pants made of a dark blue fabric that none of them could easily identify. Finally, he stopped and posed. "What do you think?"

Hilde laughed. "What are those?"

"They look like overalls," Quatre guessed, ducking his head a little bit to study the garment without strictly ogling.

"Yeah, well, aren't they missing the top part?" the girl went on, pointing.

"They're only supposed to go this high!" said Duo as he hitched up his tunic to show that the new pants ended at his waist. "Don't you laugh, either! I saved up a long time to order these! A direct purchase from the exclusive factories of Levi and Strauss!"

Hilde moved in closer and crouched at Duo's side, while he kept looking at the other two, especially Heero, for signs of approval. Next, Quatre stepped forward, leaning over and pointing vaguely at the chef's denim-clad posterior. "What are those metal dots?"

"Rivets."

"Why would anyone rivet pants together?"

Duo's mouth flapped open and closed again, as he was rapidly running out of answers. "I don't know, because...because the ad in the catalogue said it was stronger than stitching."

"But these _are_ stitched," Hilde said melodiously, dragging a finger down the outside leg seam. "And why would they use orange thread on blue fabric?"

Duo frowned. "It's not orange. It's gold."

"Looks orange to me," said Quatre.

"Heero," the chef whined, "settle this for me, will ya? Is this orange or gold?" He turned directly away from Heero to give him the best possible view of the double stitching on the back pockets, and at that moment, Heero's eyes seemed glued to the spot. He took a long time to answer the question, however. "Heero?"

Finally, Heero looked up. "Hn?"

"What do you think?"

Heero wasn't sure what he thought. In fact, there were a lot of conflicting thoughts bouncing around in his cranium, blending together into a pleasant buzz. He blinked innocently. "I think...they look like they fit just fine."

Duo's eyelids dropped to the halfway mark. "The _stitching,_ Heero."

"What about it?"

"Tell me what colour you think it is!"

Heero pondered as quickly as he could, looking back down at the thin, bright lines. "Orange?"

Quatre and Hilde laughed and slapped Duo on the shoulders as he flippantly declared theirs a hollow victory, for he believed he looked better wearing blue serge cotton than either of them could look in the finest furs. To top off the slight bruises to his ego, Trowa came in next, stepping through the back door in his brown fall jacket with the lamb trim around the collar and cuffs. He'd been hard at work raking leaves that morning and expected a mugful of something steamy to bring the circulation back to his fingers, but he never anticipated comic entertainment to go with it. He took one look at Duo's denims and gaped. "What are you doing wearing _those_?"

"Oh, don't tell me _you've_ got a problem with them too..."

"You can't be seen in something like that!" Trowa exclaimed, actually exhilarated that his past experience was finally making itself useful. "Those are for manual labourers! Farmers! Coal miners! Lumberjacks!"

"I'm not exactly blue-blooded, don't forget..."

"You're not strictly working class either," said Trowa, folding his arms. "Even I have to dress a little better than the average horse-keeper because of who I work for. Sure, we don't get out much while we're on duty, but when visitors come over, they're supposed to see us at our best."

"I don't see what's wrong with them!" the chef hollered.

"Duo, socially, they're only a small step above _rags_."

Quatre turned to Trowa with a grin and whispered as he walked past. "I bet he _would_ wear rags if they were American-made."

It wasn't a very good job of whispering, and smirks and tittering giggles permeated the air. "You're all just jealous," Duo snapped in a bratty fashion, and followed the statement up with a sharp display of his tongue.

"Fine," Trowa chuckled as he rummaged through the cupboards for something to snack on. "Just don't let Relena catch you wearing those, or she'll have the fit to end _all_ fits."

That was funny for a moment or two, but after the laughter subsided, they all soon remembered that their employer-in-absentia hadn't been seen, nor heard from, in a fortnight or longer. It broke up the party somewhat, and three out of the group eventually wandered off to attend to other things, things they could control. That left Duo and Heero alone in the kitchen. Duo went back to the counter to finish peeling the potatoes, and Heero went with him.

"You know...what _really_ rots my socks about this whole thing is that as long as Relena's locked up in her ivory tower, we can't confront her about that little stunt she pulled," Duo complained, furiously scraping the paring knife against spud after spud, sending bits of peel flying in all directions. "I feel like _somebody_ should've yelled at _someone_ by now. Me yelling at her, her yelling at you...I don't care who gets it anymore, but I just feel...I don't know...like I've been cheated out of my day in court, so to speak."

"I can't imagine she's up there hiding just because she's afraid to face me," Heero thought out loud, leaning back a bit to avoid the barrage of potato peels. "That's not her style."

Duo sighed forcibly. "Well, it's not my style to fly off the handle like I did with Otto, but not being able to have it out with that girl is _incredibly_ frustrating." His peeling action slowed, and his shoulders slumped as he peeked behind the curtain he had drawn over the truth, just to get him through the days and hours. "You remember what Sally told us...she could have killed you."

Heero glanced around for a brief security check, then put an arm around Duo. "Could have, but didn't. Even so, it may be a good thing, in the end. I never saw until then how sloppy I've gotten lately, and maybe I needed a good swift kick to remind me that I'm not infallible." He gave Duo's shoulder a comforting squeeze, then let go to gather up some of the scattered potato peels. "I'll be more careful from now on, I promise."

"You'd better." Duo's expression gradually softened, and he stole several grinning glances at his friend. "So be honest...you think these pants look good on me?"

Heero stood back a long pace and made a twirling motion with one hand. Duo eagerly complied and did a slow, precise pirouette, after which Heero stuck his hands back in his pockets and nodded. "I think I like them," he said honestly, for he could not remember ever seeing anything like them before, and something so unique could only be justifiably worn by someone as unique as Duo himself.

"I knew _you_ had exquisite fashion sense after all!" Duo crowed. He happily peeled the rest of the potatoes with grace and good humour, feeling somehow validated by Heero's opinion, and feeling fiercely proud of his 501 Blues.

**********  
  


Very suddenly, the afternoon's tranquility was shattered by a pained, desperate voice. "I know you can hear me up there, now why won't you come down and talk to me!?" It was the pitiful sound of Marcus Wyndham, standing at the bottom of the massive main staircase and shouting upwards to Relena, who was hiding herself quite well on some upper floor. He was clutching a wrinkled letter in one hand.

"I implore you to conduct yourself with a little more dignity than _that_," said Milliardo. He had been first to the front door when the doorbell rang, and was the only thing preventing Marcus from charging straight up the stairs and finding Relena himself. "My sister hasn't come down from her room for days, and she's not likely to, either, if she has to listen to your warbling."

"But I _need_ to hear her explain this to me!" young Marcus cried, shaking the letter rudely in Milliardo's face. "A few weeks ago, our...friendship...was perfectly pleasant, and nothing seemed to be wrong! Now all I get is a letter saying she can't see me anymore and I don't understand why! I _must_ speak with her!"

Milliardo could think of more than one reason not to encourage fraternization between this semi-stranger and his angelic sibling, for he hadn't been able to decide on his suitability when the youngsters met, but then even if he helped the boy, there was no guarantee that Relena would even open the door. "She won't speak with anyone at the moment. My advice would be to go home and wait. Perhaps this is just a phase."

Marcus' eyes narrowed. "I say," he began in a noble but threatening tone, "this isn't down to _you,_ is it?" The rabid glare he got in return for that little gem made him cower slightly, and he backed away, heading for the door. "Alright, I'm going...but you can expect to see me again. Don't give up on me, 'Lena! Whatever's gone wrong, we can work through it!" Downtrodden, Marcus slumped forward and left the house, but all the way home he kept thinking, kept searching his memory for any small thing he might have done to offend his lady love.

While normally Milliardo would have treated any young man seeking to court his baby sister like a barbarian at the gate, he was oddly compelled to think of the sudden rift simply as more evidence that Relena was going downhill fast. Ever since the night of the engagement party, she had been hiding in her third floor suite and wouldn't come out, not even for mealtimes. Doris was the only one allowed near her bedroom door, and only to set trays of food down on the floor, walk away, and pick them up again later when they rematerialised empty. _At least she's eating,_ Milliardo thought yet again as he climbed the stairs, _but this can't continue._

He went straight to her door with the intention of knocking to wake the dead, but saw a thin crack of light around the perimeter of the door, something that hadn't been seen for many days. It was clear that she had ventured out of her cave while Marcus was there, perhaps even as far as the landing, but on her way back she forgot or refused to lock her door. Cautiously, Milliardo pushed it open and stepped inside.

It was logical, since time was constantly moving forward, that Relena was older than she had ever been before, but her brother was mildly shocked at how she actually _looked_ older for what he believed to be the first time. She sat in a Queen Anne chair with her stocking feet tucked up underneath her, leaning one elbow on the armrest and barely touching a finger to her chin as she gazed out the window. Next to the fireplace, which she must have been lighting all by herself, Frederick lay curled up in a basket with his nose drooping sadly over the side, determined not to leave his mistress' side except for his daily walk in the park with Trowa.

What startled Milliardo most was the state of the room itself. Every horizontal surface was littered with books, both open and closed, apparently snatched from the manor library in the dead of night. A glass jar with a tight-fitting lid sat on the vanity dresser, in the spot where the cold cream and eau de parfum once stood; it was filled with edible dry goods, such as biscuits and crackers, reserved from her meals to make up a secret stash that could sustain her for a day or two if the family dared try to starve her out of her room. Most shocking of all was the state of the bed, strangely stripped of all the rosy pink frills and ruffles. The afghan, the lace shams, even the dainty canopy had been removed, and everything pink was piled in a corner of the room, leaving only white sheets and bare pillows on the bed. All embellishments seemed to have been banished from the queendom.

Milliardo was almost afraid to approach her, in case she had lost her mind--and it certainly appeared to be so. It took a great effort to walk over to her chair, watching in silent anguish as she displayed no movement, nor even any awareness that he was in the room. "You left your door unlocked," he said quietly.

"I didn't realize," she whispered after a long pause. She sounded tired, and rightly so, if she had been staying up all night every night reading instead of getting her beauty sleep. Just looking at some of the titles sent a chill through her brother's body, as he read names like Plato, and Socrates, and St. Thomas Aquinas all around him. She just didn't mix with a crowd like that...at least, not the Relena he thought he knew.

"Mr. Wyndham was asking for you."

"I know."

Milliardo drew up another chair and sat a short distance away from her; she continued to stare out the window, unmoving. "Far be it from me to meddle in your...friendships," he said, using the word as hesitantly as Marcus had, "but if all this trouble was caused by a bit of failed romance, then--"

"_Oh_!" Relena barked suddenly, her voice rife with exasperation and stress. "I can't waste time and energy thinking about _romance_! It's far too trivial!"

Her brother sighed deeply, feeling distinctly like he wasn't getting anywhere. "I'm at the end of my rope with you. Now, you can stay up here as long as you like, you can mope and feel sorry for yourself as long as you like, but starting now, I'll be doing it with you. I won't leave this room for anything, and you and I will have to share what little food comes through the door, for as long as it lasts."

At last, she looked at him, angry and mortified.

"Who knows, without me there to manage the estate's money, we could last for weeks, even months before we go broke...or...you can tell me what's bothering you and we can both get on with life." He sat back, swung one leg casually over the other, and folded his arms with vehemence and fortitude.

Relena dropped her feet to the floor, rammed her elbows into her knees and hid her face, reaching up with both hands to squeeze her bangs tightly through her fingers. Eventually, as she relaxed her hands and slowly straightened up, her expression was that of one who had been to hell and back several times a day for two weeks. "If I tell you..."

".....yes?"

"...you can't _ever_ tell _anyone_ else! Not the police, not Lucrezia, not a _single soul_!"

"And why not?"

An eerie thing occurred, something which Milliardo hoped never to see again. Relena's face contorted into a maniacal grin and she laughed, just a few times in short, bird-like spurts. She was coming unhinged. "Because no one in their right minds would ever believe us!"

Now fighting a queasy feeling that started at the top of his head and cascaded down, Milliardo reached out and clasped her hand in his. She looked down and then back out the window. Whatever she knew was weighing heavily on her, even more than the death of her father, or her temporary loss of a brother to the war. He knew whatever was to come would take some time, and the healing process would take even longer, but he was more than willing to commit, and he pled with his eyes for her to unburden herself.

And she told him everything.

**********  
  


The afternoon meeting at Catherine's Place started out very chatty. A leisurely lunch was shared by the young group of five while they shot the breeze and gossiped, but when the dishes were cleared away, the work began. They were steadily getting better at holding such meetings efficiently.

"...need to look at several things in the weeks ahead, particularly the end of the Cinq Association's fiscal year. We have records from the last thirty or so end-of-year summits, and based on past locations, we may be able to extrapolate the site of the next one." In the plush meeting room with the fine furnishings and the rich green wallpaper, Heero plucked a rolled-up map of the world from an upright cluster, housed by a cardboard box. He rolled it out over the table, and as they all held down a corner or a side, they could see that someone had already gone to great lengths to mark it up. With a curt nod, Heero handed the lecture over to Trowa, who was in charge of all maps and navigation.

"The summits rotate between five continents, but always seem to gravitate towards the Atlantic," Trowa explained. "The farthest point east, as far as Giorgenson's notes indicate, was Bombay in 1892. As you can see, the locales have moved in a clockwise circle around the ocean, jumping from town to town without ever stopping in the same place twice."

As a marvellously clear illustration, there was a series of red dots marked on the map, each labelled with a year, and connected by a long, spiral line, also in red. The dots dated back to the very year Cinq was founded, in Brussels.

"Have you figured out where the next one is?" asked Quatre.

"Not exactly," Trowa admitted. "Based on the pattern to date, it could be anywhere in a three-thousand-mile radius covering big chunks of Europe and parts of Northern Africa."

"We've got time to work on it," Wufei said, leaning back in his chair. "If nothing else, we've got to narrow it down as much as we can, because even the agents going along for security won't know until the last minute where they're headed. Getting clues from the organizations won't be easy."

Heero looked down at the map, his hands folded together overtop of Greenland. "I've never been to a fiscal summit, have you?"

Though his eyes were lowered, they all knew Heero's question couldn't have been meant for anyone but Wufei. He looked down at the map as well. "No, but I met the favourite pet of my old master once, and he told me all about them, just to show off. Delegations from each of the five sectors gather to compare their achievements and declare a winner. Leaders like Lord Jeffrhyss can pick any of their staff to accompany them, but...I was never chosen."

"Well...that matches what the Professor wrote down in his journals," Duo said sombrely. "I guess he won't be going this year either."

Quatre reached right over Australia to pat Duo's arm. "We don't know that he's dead, he could still be out there." Duo didn't seem cheered by the speculation, so Quatre took it upon himself to change the subject. "I think I've got some _good_ news, or maybe just a good idea, if anyone wants to hear it..."

The consensus was affirmative, and the others all sat up a little straighter to hear what the Executive in charge of Psychological Warfare had to say. He lifted up his corner of the map, took out a plain beige manila folder, and opened it, indicating right away that he had done some additional research. "It's about the tontine, and how Treize, Dorothy, and Lady Une are all involved. I was giving it some serious thought while I was looking through the Professor's files, and there's a chance I've come up with someth--"

Behind them all, there was the sudden rattling noise of someone trying the doorhandle, followed by a quiet knock. This confused everyone, for they had specifically asked not to be disturbed while their meeting was in session. Being the lucky one who was closest to the door, Trowa rose to answer it, after Heero's silent nod of approval. He only cracked the door open the tiniest bit, but a dainty foot was quickly wedged into the space to keep it from being closed again. To the boy's surprise, he found himself face to face with Sally Po.

"Let us in, you chauvinists!"

"Yeah, let us in or we'll bust the door down!"

"In a very delicate, feminine way, of course."

Heero jumped up and bolted to the door while Trowa leaned frantically up against it. "What are you _doing_ here!?"

"What most people like us are doing here," Sally said, "having a bite to eat, mentally undressing the male customers, and, from time to time, placing bets on how long it would take for you five _bozos_ to wake up and invite us to join you." Behind her, Lucrezia and Hilde bunched up protectively, while Duo and Quatre bunched up behind Heero, mostly to protect the deadly secrets spread out all over the table. Wufei just stayed in his seat and feared the worst.

"You mean you _followed_ us?"

"The hallway is the last place we should be discussing this, so if you don't mind..." With a mighty shove, Sally pushed the door in and just about knocked Trowa over, not to mention crunching the other boys backwards so quickly that they were just about tripping over each other. In the blink of an eye, the door slammed shut behind the Amazon trio, who folded their arms in unison and looked each of the lads in the eye...except Wufei, who continued to look away. There was an unpleasant burning heat creeping up the back of his neck.

"We'll come straight to the point," Lucrezia said regally. "We know _all about_ your secret society, your troubles with organized crime, and your rampaging yet ill-prepared vigilantism. We've come here to tell you something very important."

"We want in," said Sally.

"And we want in _now_," said Hilde.

Though Heero could have feigned total ignorance with amazing quality, he worried that Sally in particular was too sharp to be fooled. "I don't think you know what you're saying."

Sally shook her head. "You'd like to believe that, and that's just sad. Lord Jeffrhyss...the Cinq Association...Count Khushrenada and the Peacecraft gold...the possible reasons behind the McKinley assassination...we know it all."

The boys paled. Nobody knew what to say.

"The thing of it is," said Lucrezia, decorating her hip with one hand and gesturing animatedly with the other, "we just can't accept that the five of you would decide, all on your own, to form a mercenary group against what is probably the most dangerous bunch of control freaks to appear in our lifetime, and you never _once_ considered asking us to join."

"I assume you need people with valuable skills," Sally continued. "I say there are few assets you could possibly need more than a physician, a tactician, and an extra part-time thief, so you can't have ignored us based on our abilities."

"And you need people who can keep a cool head in a crisis as well," Lucrezia went on, "and after being under lock and key in Jeffrhyss' cottage for any length of time, I should think I've got a head that could chill molten lava."

Sally shrugged with her eyebrows. "And I don't mind the sight of blood, so I'm on the stable list too."

"And I do your _laundry_," Hilde added, pointing to the centre of her chest proudly. "We fear _nothing_."

"So what are we left with?" Sally asked. "It's not our talents that made you look the other way, nor our temperaments, nor our general willingness to put up with all your little quirks on a regular basis, so that leaves only one logical possibility left."

Lucrezia clasped her hands behind her back. "You didn't ask for our help because we're _women_."

Hilde made a 'tch tch tch' noise while shaking her head. "You guys are in sooo much trouble."

The four boys who were standing actually hung their heads a little, until Heero made a last-ditch attempt at diplomacy. "We meant no insult, I promise you. We were only trying to protect the people who weren't involved."

"Weren't _involved_?" Lucrezia said forcefully. "You've got a short memory! Jeffrhyss tried to blackmail me, and turned me into his office girl! I'm _already_ involved, and I plan to stay that way until I get some payback for it!"

"And you've also forgotten an examination I once gave you," Sally added, "after which I told you specifically that I intended to hold someone accountable for the way you were treated. Not only that, but the entire philosophy of this 'Cinq Association' is an offense against everything I stand for, the Hippocratic oath most of all."

Hilde took a few gentle steps forward and made friendly busywork of brushing the lint off Heero's jacket, shyly avoiding his eyes. "I'd just go bananas if something happened to you, to _any_ of you, and I never knew why it happened or whether any good came from it. I don't want to read your names in the back of the newspaper someday. I want to help, and if I can't help enough, then I want my name next to yours."

All of them, Heero especially, were humbled. He briefly reached up to grasp Hilde's arms, gave them a squeeze as he coaxed her to make blushing eye contact, then turned to his team. "All in favour?" he asked quietly. Four hands went up, slowly and reverently. No tiebreaker vote was needed. He tilted his head to the side, bright-eyed. "Welcome aboard."

The trio erupted into girlish cheers, and they jumped up and down, giving each other congratulatory hugs. Then, Sally cleared her throat and turned to the boys, all smiles. "Now, we're all eager to see what you've been cooking up, but we're just going to go have a sub-committee meeting while we powder our noses, and maybe order some desserts on the way back. Wait for us!" As swiftly as they arrived, they marched back out again, to some unknown female hiding place, leaving the boys staring in utter awe--at what, they weren't quite sure.

As they came to, Heero slowly turned and put both hands on the back of his chair, stiffening his arms and forcing his shoulders up as he looked over the faces of his supposed compatriots. The addition to their team was all well and good, but there was still a security issue that had somehow been overlooked. "Gentlemen...it appears that we have a leak."

Everyone looked at everyone else, and three out of the four faces surveyed showed absolutely no guilt whatsoever. Wufei was slouched all the way down in his chair with his chin resting on his chest, and looked defensively from left to right. The other four gradually converged on him until he finally cracked. "It wasn't my fault!!"

"What wasn't your fault?" Heero asked, glaring slightly.

Wufei sputtered and shrugged until the truth jumped out of his mouth just to get away from his general jitteriness. "She forced it out of me! There was nothing I could do to stop it! You know what women are like!!" He thought about that, letting his eyes land on Duo. "Well, _some_ of you."

Duo glared.

"You mean _Hilde_ dragged it out of you?" Quatre asked in disbelief. "Everything about our plans and the papers we found in Giorgenson's--"

"Yes, everything! Happy now!?"

Trowa looked puzzled and curious, both pleasantly and unpleasantly at the same time. "How...exactly...did she..."

"I'm in no way obligated to discuss that," Wufei snapped, bouncing his leg up and down on the ball of his foot underneath the table.

Duo smirked, clearly impressed. "She'd make a good agent, wouldn't she?"

Heero ignored the witticism, reaching up to his right temple and pressing inward. He could feel one of his headaches coming on. "Let's just hope nobody else knows," he said.

**********  
  


Late that night, when the rest of the house was soundly asleep, two figures were staring out their respective windows, pondering majestic truths about the universe that they shouldn't have had to bother with in their positions. Relena stayed in her room, nibbling on crackers and reading by candlelight, and Milliardo stood by his balcony and stared, just as she had done.

He looked over to his left in the dim blue light of nighttime in autumn, and saw that Lucrezia hadn't stirred from his absence. She had been rather tight-lipped about what she had done with her day, but he wasn't bothered by that; something far worse was happening to them in his own mind. He vaguely understood now why Relena felt she couldn't deal with Marcus' attentions, knowing what she knew, and now her brother, knowing what he knew, felt an uncomfortable coldness towards his lover. He wanted to distance her from the horrible truths he was suddenly saddled with, and thought for a brief and terrifying moment that she might be safer without him.

A reality check forced that thought out of his head almost immediately. No matter what Relena had heard from Treize, there was always and most certainly the possibility that he was lying. While Relena got the impression that he was telling the truth, Milliardo knew that she was probably far too young to be an accurate judge of character. What he needed to do was speak to Treize himself and get what he claimed were the facts, and then find routes towards corroboration.

When faced with the enormity of the situation, it seemed impossible.

Milliardo and Relena would continue to lose sleep for the foreseeable future.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


_Next, in Episode Sixty-Three: Combat training begins for the Bridlewood Eight, and Heero gives Quatre the green light to put his mystery plan into motion._

Sorry for the delay! =@_@= That was a very, very, very long day I just lived through, so because of general tiredness, I'll keep this short. Next episode. October 25th. Historical notes coming. Stuff about Levi's and Victorian musclemen. Bridlewood index. Update soon. Cookbook. More recipes. Sleep. Need. (I've told you what's coming, now guess where I'm going! =z_z= ja ne!)


	63. School Days

**Disclaimer:** ...what? You think I have time to write a new disclaimer every week? Do you have any idea how busy I am!? =P Fuggedaboudit.

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Sixty-Three: School Days

_"The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong." ~Mahatma Gandhi _

October 25th, 1902

As instructed, the Amazon trio showed up in the basement of the pub at 9:00am precisely, dressed in whatever they could find that was appropriate for exercise in mixed company. Heero was quite satisfied with the girls' intelligence, but feared what would happen if any of them were placed in a situation they had to fight their way out of, and couldn't. He decided, executively, to offer all three of them combat lessons, for beginners. Duo eagerly tagged along, happy to be utilized in the demonstration process. Wufei turned up as well, for his own reasons.

While they waited for their teachers to arrive and start the lesson, Sally wandered around the workout room, idly glancing at this and that. She had managed to scrape up an old, stretchy rugby shirt with thick horizontal stripes of red and black, and a pair of beige knickerbockers that fit her curves reasonably well. As she stooped to adjust her matching striped socks, she casually commented on the state of the floor and walls. "Flood damage...you see it? There's a faint line about three feet up, all the way around the room."

Lucrezia strolled over, wearing the gentleman's gray trousers and white business shirt that she had found in a second-hand shop. "Looks as if it was a long time ago. Wonder when this place was built..."

"I wonder when it was _decorated_ last," said Hilde, looking criminally sweet in a short-sleeved, puffy-legged bathing costume in navy blue with white stripes. "This lady splashed out all that money upstairs, and she couldn't pop for a few nice pictures to put on the walls down here?"

"It's supposed to be a _gym_, not a parlour," Sally said.

Hilde wrinkled her nose at the friendly mockery.

At long last, their instructor arrived, padding nobly down the stairs with Duo and Wufei in tow. The girls noticed that the first two were wearing nearly identical white two-piece outfits, but that Heero's belt was of a dark gray rather than pure white. Duo's outfit also showed signs of wear, but not nearly as much. Wufei wore his favourite blue sleeveless top and free-flowing white pants, grounded by black slipper-like shoes.

As soon as Heero was out of the stairwell, all three women stood together in a row and bowed at the waist. "Onegai shimasu, Heero-sensei!" they chimed as one.

Heero stopped in his tracks with something resembling a whimsical little smile. Duo elbowed him right away, grinning madly. "I told them to say that. Aren't they cute?"

"Adorable," Heero said with good-natured sarcasm. He rubbed his hands together and addressed the trio. "I'm not going to demand strict protocol from you for this first lesson, I think it's more important that we evaluate your individual strengths and weaknesses, and start planning a program around them. Time is important, and I will expect you to work hard over the next few weeks, but you'll be leaving this room stronger than when you came in, and stronger individuals make stronger teams."

Wufei snorted and wandered off into a corner. "This oughta be good..."

"You're here to make up the numbers for sparring practice, _not_ to make snide remarks," Heero reminded him.

"Oh, I just can't wait until you start spouting off about 'refraining from violent action' in between teaching them how to kick people's teeth out," the Chinese boy scoffed.

Heero got some practice at refraining from violent action that very moment, as he looked skyward and took a deep breath. "Perhaps if you understood the _entire_ philosophy behind this art, you wouldn't be so quick to disagree with it."

"Philosophy," Wufei chuckled. "Not only is karate hypocritical, but the excess complexity that's put into offensive techniques is easily defeated by a well-thought out and low-energy defence."

The temperature in the basement instantly dropped about ten degrees. Heero slowly turned and glared intensely at the insult. "Would you like a chance to rephrase that comment?"

Wufei turned and stepped closer. "I would, but there are ladies present."

Heero stepped closer. "Maybe you'd like to go join them."

Wufei stepped even closer. "Maybe you'd like a severe back injury so you can sit out the lesson with dignity."

"Hey, hey, _hey_!" Duo had to step between them before it came to blows. They had been that way ever since Wufei was revealed to be the group's information leak, for it wasn't the final outcome of his loose lips that Heero objected to, but rather the principle. Wufei kept insisting that it wasn't his fault and took great exception to being blamed for something that turned out alright in the end anyway. "Could we think about why we're here? Please?"

"We're here to demonstrate combat techniques to the ladies," Heero growled, keeping his red-hot gaze trained on Wufei the entire time.

"And if we have time, how to set broken bones with tablecloths," Wufei growled back. Tiny lightning bolts were now physically crossing the space between their snarling faces, and they soon squeezed Duo clear out of the way.

"That would be difficult to accomplish face-down on the mat."

"I could tie you in a square knot before you even knew what happened."

"And you'd be quick to tell the whole town about it, too."

Again, Duo tried to intervene. "Now, Heero, that wasn't very ni--"

"I'm glad I came to see your little show now," Wufei barrelled on. "This is the perfect place to take you down a peg."

"Just try it."

In a flash, they were in the middle of the mat, facing each other with venomous stares, and Duo tossed his hands up in frustration. "Dammit, you _promised_ you'd behave!"

Heero held a hand up in Duo's direction, already crouching into a battle stance. "This won't take long."

Hilde jumped to her feet and folded her arms, scowling at the other little boy having his temper tantrum. "And _you_ said you weren't holding a grudge! Were you lying to me!?"

Wufei waved the girl off in a similar fashion. "In a minute, Peach Blossom..."

They seemed intent on going through with their juvenile duelling match, so Duo and Hilde gave up and retreated to a safe distance, throwing glances of despair at each other. Hilde felt bad enough for getting Wufei into trouble, but now his and Heero's clashing egos were out of her hands, and Duo quickly and quietly reassured her that any mischief they got up to was their own fault, not hers. Sally and Lucrezia just sighed and rolled their eyes as the boys squared off against each other.

First, Wufei deflected Heero's first kick with a flashy circular motion, but Heero reset quickly to land a punch right through the centre of the circle and flatten Wufei with one blow. Heero smirked and mentally recorded a match point while Wufei scraped himself off the mat. Almost immediately, he retaliated, coming at Heero with a claw hand aimed at his throat. Heero thought he was ready for it, and prepared to deliver another kick, but Wufei swept the foot up and out of his way while he planted a hand in the middle of Heero's chest, then pushed down hard and drove him into the floor. A match point went to Wufei, and he smirked as well. They went on like this for quite a long time, forsaking proper form and concentration for good old one-upmanship, and it didn't appear as though they would give it up until they were thoroughly exhausted. It was at about this time that the girls began discussing their lunch order.

**********  
  


Money was getting awfully tight for Dorothy. Without Treize around to treat her to all the pretty trinkets her little heart desired, she had to make do with wearing the same clothes and jewels over and over again, until the other young ladies in the neighbourhood, peasants though they were in comparison to the Baroness, were putting her to shame. In her official position as lady's maid, a title which she performed very few traditional duties to deserve, she couldn't possibly ask Relena for an allowance without looking foolish, therefore, she was scuppered.

Drastic measures had to be taken if she was to avoid looking dated and tawdry in town. Up in her suite, filled with lavender things from corner to corner, she laid several of her belongings out on the bed, preparing to make some tough decisions. Anna Maria was curled up on a lacy purple pillow, watching her with mild interest.

"What do you think?" Dorothy asked the cat, holding up two dissimilar sets of ear bobs in either hand. "Suppose the jewellery store would take a trade-in...which ones could I get the most for?"

Anna Maria licked her chops and flicked her eyes from one dangly, sparkly thing to another, but offered no input.

"I'm not lowering myself to going to a _pawn shop_, if that's what you're thinking!" the girl whined. "I wouldn't be caught _dead_ in such a common establishment."

That emotional state of partial desperation and total indignance was just the cue someone was waiting for, someone listening just outside her door. With a friendly, beguiling smile at the ready, that someone casually pushed the door open with his foot and leaned against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets.

Startled, Dorothy turned toward the noise and nearly dropped her earrings in surprise. It was Quatre. He was probably the very last person she ever expected to see standing at her bedroom door and smiling. She was immediately suspicious. "Come to gloat, have you?"

"Not at all," Quatre assured her in a sugary voice. "I think it's just awful that you've been left here on your own with no money and no prospects."

Dorothy squinted. She felt sure she hadn't told anyone about her money woes, but perhaps hearing her speak of trade-ins and pawn shops was enough information to lead to that inevitable conclusion anyway. "Don't worry yourself," she spat. "If worse comes to worse, selling off even one of my best dresses would bring enough for a one-way ticket back to Italy, and then I'd be out of your hair for good."

Quatre's eyes glossed over with a thin window shade the colour of sympathy. "Why be in such a hurry to get away? I never pictured you giving up on me so easily."

"I haven't much of a _choice_ anymore, _have_ I!? You and your simpering siblings have one less menace to worry about, thanks to those _scheming_, _conniving_..."

"Oh dear, as bad as that, is it?" the gardener cooed.

Dorothy sniffed bitterly at him, and began packing the gems and dresses back into the wardrobe and jewellery box. "You should be thrilled. I thought those wretched snakes were my friends, and I've got two vicious stab wounds in the middle of my back to show for it! I've got _nothing_ now!"

Quatre pushed off the door frame and sauntered slowly around the room, knitting his brows and going 'tch tch tch' as he made a great play of considering her situation. "That _is_ a problem...hmm...sure wish I could think of a way to help." He paused dramatically, then looked up and smiled at her in a way that made Anna Maria jump down off the bed and then hide under it. "Wait a moment...I think I _can_ help you."

The Baroness stared. "You can't be serious."

"Oh, I'm very good at being serious," he said, reaching into his inside waistcoat pocket and extracting a tri-folded piece of paper. "Seems to me your problem is a total lack of power and influence where the Count and Lady Une are concerned, and I don't just mean with petty things like stopping the wedding." He pleasantly ignored the way the girl's eyes gradually widened during the second part of his speech, gesturing with the paper all the while. "See, I know Lady Une must have told Treize about my family's secret, because you've been more upset since their engagement than at any other time while I've known you, and I can't think of anything that would upset you more than the thought of losing a potential fortune."

This was Dorothy's most closely-guarded secret, and she could hardly believe the boy had figured all that out solely on the basis of her being upset. Indeed, he had needed more clues than that, and got extra tips from his sixth sense. That and a little covert surveillance with Trowa's help cemented it, but of course, Dorothy knew none of this, and was still struggling to figure it out.

"You'd love to stop them for getting even a single coin of my family's money, wouldn't you?"

"...uh..." Dorothy was taken aback, but had to agree. Her gaping mouth was indecisive, but her eyes screamed 'Yes!'

"I could help you with that," Quatre said teasingly, and he tapped the folded paper with a single finger of his free hand. "Right here are the tools you need to start paying them back for their treachery." He watched with tightly restrained exhilaration as the girl broadcasted an aura of frightful delight. When Quatre had taken his master plan to Heero and secured its approval, he knew it would be interesting to implement, but it was even more fun than he imagined.

"Wait a minute," Dorothy said, slowly and cautiously," why on earth would _you_ help _me_?"

Quatre shrugged in an exaggerated fashion. "I'm not suggesting a one-sided agreement, by any means...more along the lines of a symbiotic partnership."

Curiosity trampled the girl's sense of prudence. "Go on."

He handed over the paper, and waited as she opened it, glanced at it, and scrunched up her face in confusion. What she had actually been given, thought she might never know it, was a page from the files of Professor Giorgenson, a full profile on one of his fell Cinq Association cohorts.

"His name is Hassan. He is _also_ seeking control of my family fortune. Now you know something Treize and Lady Une don't."

Dorothy crinkled her forked eyebrows and shook her head slightly. "But...how's this supposed to hel--" Quatre felt the light bulb flip on in Dorothy's mind milliseconds before he saw it on her face, and then he was sure she understood. "They don't know about this man...and _he_ doesn't know about _them_, either! Am I right?"

Quatre nodded. "All three of them think they'll be undisputed winners of the tontine, and now you have the advantage of knowing that's not necessarily likely. If, for example, you wanted back in on the deal, now you have something to offer them. They can't collect the winnings if there's another competitor, and based on my own information, it would have been awfully easy for this Hassan to nab one of my sisters and melt into the shadows. One is all it would take to pose a threat to Treize's position, and as long as he lives, your former friends don't stand a chance."

Dorothy's eyes glittered as she looked over the page in greater detail. "Ohhhh....." It felt like she had been given a gilded sword to hold over the bent necks of the two traitors, and it was undoubtedly wonderful, but when one stepped back to look at the whole picture, it didn't make perfect sense. "I don't understand...it shouldn't matter to you _who_ wins, you should just want it to stop."

Quatre clasped his hands behind him and appeared to ponder some more. "And now we come to the expected question, 'What's in it for you?' Well..." He paced, and paced, and stopped, glancing sideways at her. "I would, of course, be _very_ grateful if you could provide me with Treize's plans on a regular basis...for my personal use."

"You want me to tip Treize off to this fellow's existence, and then _spy_ on him for you?"

"It doesn't have to sound logical, it just has to be done," said Quatre, "and if it's done well, there could be some nice bonuses in it for you."

"...such as?"

"Oh, I don't know...whatever you like. A new dress, or some satin shoes, perhaps some velvet evening gloves..."

The Baroness let out a hyena-like laugh. "That's absurd! If I couldn't find enough money for so much as a pot of rouge, _you_ certainly couldn't!"

Quatre lifted his eyebrows, then looked slightly down as he rubbed the top of his left shoe against the back of his right pant leg. He wasn't wearing his old, scruffy gardening boots, but an apparently brand-new pair of black leather pointed shoes, neatly laced and polished to a sparkling shine. Dorothy didn't know where he was getting it, but it was obvious that he had easy access to plenty of money, and that in itself was just about enough to blow her tiny mind. She stared at the shoes in disbelief, mumbling and stuttering as she fought her own state of shock to form a coherent sentence.

"You don't need to know where the money comes from," said Quatre, "only that you don't get your share unless you come up with some privileged information on Treize. How and when, I'll leave up to you, but you'd better start soon, or you won't make it to the stores until _after_ the Christmas sales." He winked, smiled, and left, walking on air all the way out the bedroom door.

Poor Dorothy wasn't sure what to think. Obviously, the knowledge of Hassan's plans would make her an attractive addition to Treize's new team, if she could get close enough to present the information, and at some point during the re-endearing process, if it looked as if she was going to be shoved out again, it might actually be possible to rat them out to Hassan, thereby pitting them against each other. There were a lot of gaps in the plan, but it was the best plan she had, and she could look sharp in new clothes while she carried it out.

**********  
  


Even after splitting a pot of coffee and a giant platter of sandwiches between them, the girls were still yawning, not that anyone particularly noticed. The duel between Heero and Wufei was getting silly, as neither one wanted to give up even though they were both dead tired after being at it for a solid hour. It said marvellous things about their stamina, but very little about their sense of futility, and absolutely nothing good about their hard-headed rivalry.

The trio was piled on a bench against one wall, underneath a dartboard, all leaning against each other as they struggled to stay awake during the dying moments of the battle. Duo sat cross-legged on the floor and also looked a little peeved at the pair of them, leaning his head on the end of the bench and sighing every once in a while. Four times now he had suggested that the combatants had reached a stalemate, and four times he had either been ignored or yelled at.

On the large square of mats laid out on the floor, Heero and Wufei were both crumpled in pathetic little heaps, using the last dregs of their energy to keep their heads up and avoid signalling defeat. Heero's forehead was plastered against one bent knee, his opposite arm shakily propping him upright as he glared at Wufei, who was sort of lying on his side with his legs tangled up somewhere to his left. They were both panting and sweating and just generally worn out, but neither would admit that they had been beaten.

For his last blow, Heero summoned up a few tiny bits of strength in his arms, enough to lift up one of the square mats and detach it from the whole, lifting it over his head and bringing it down on Wufei's head with a less-than-mighty 'splat'. Wufei retaliated by grabbing the mat and tugging on it, and they both tried to wrestle it away from each other, growling like angry puppies fighting over a new toy. Duo rolled his eyes and got up. "That's it, you two, knock it off," he said, walking up and kicking the mat out of their hands. "It's a flippin' _draw_, okay!? Give it a rest!"

The pair flopped over backwards on the remaining mats and groaned.

"Well, _that_ was educational," Lucrezia drawled, swirling the last few drops of coffee around in her cup before gulping them down. "We learned about the self-defeating power of the male ego, and how to defend ourselves with a gym mat."

Sally yawned. "I don't feel any stronger, how 'bout you?"

Defying the laws of physics and pain, Wufei began crawling unsteadily to his feet, pointing weakly at Heero as Duo knelt behind him to help him up into a sitting position. "I thought...this might...be futile.......so I...brought backup." He stumbled up the stairs, clutching his bruised ribs while Hilde folded her arms and shook her head.

Curled up on the mat, Duo resisted the urge to smack Heero for his obstinacy, for he had witnessed with gritted teeth each of the throws, blows, and fierce blocks that left the boy weak and wobbly like a tenderized piece of veal. "Geez, Heero...you couldn't check your sense of superiority at the door for once? Now look at you! I hope it was worth it."

Heero pulled a hand up to nurse his split lip and tried not to let it show that he was indeed a bit ashamed of himself. "I got tired of his attitude, that's all."

"Yeah, well...I hope you can keep telling yourself that tomorrow morning when you're too stiff to move," Duo said, curled up behind him. A smile tickled his face, and he slowly brought both hands up to Heero's overworked shoulders, leaning close to whisper at a level the others couldn't detect. "Unless, of course, you can find a bottle of liniment and a pair of willing hands..."

That brought a small, tired smile to Heero's face, and he was lost enough in pleasant thoughts not to notice right away when Wufei staggered back down the stairs with a stranger. It was a shortish man of Asian descent, much closer to Wufei in appearance than Heero. His rounded olive face bore a blank but confident expression, suggesting that he didn't care what life threw at him because it was all meaningless or easily conquered. His jet black hair hung just below ear level and was cropped closely in the front, and he wore a long black overcoat, which he tossed aside to reveal a two-piece white suit similar in style to Duo's. His narrow eyes swung around the room, scanning for targets.

"This is Dong Sun Kwan," said Wufei. "He speaks no English, and has a full schedule, but I persuaded him to spare some time for our 'class,' if you can call it that."

They all looked at Kwan with apprehension. Heero squinted suspiciously. "How _exactly_ do you know this man?"

Wufei looked to either side, then stared straight ahead. "You have contacts. I have contacts."

"Well...he doesn't really look like he's in teaching mode," Sally observed, glancing dubiously at the severe slant of Kwan's bushy black eyebrows.

All eyes slowly latched onto Wufei as he stood in meek and guilty silence. "...strictly speaking...he's not..._actually_ a teacher. He only speaks a little Chinese, and I'm not sure he fully understood the purpose of our...little get-together."

Heero sighed. "Meaning?"

"Meaning..." Wufei looked over at Kwan, who looked icily back at him, and wondered if he hadn't been a trifle hasty in lining up help to show Heero up in front of the girls. "I may have indirectly promised him a blood match."

The girls all scooted down to the far end of the bench. Heero tried to get up, stumbled a little on his aggravated ankle, and was quickly propped up by Duo as he scowled at his rival. "And who do you think is going to fight him, now that we're _both_ on the injured list?"

Duo's eyes lit up. "Let me do it!"

"Absolutely not," Heero said, shaking his head immediately.

"Aw, come on! He's here, so why waste him? We could finally start learning something!"

"You're not fighting a stranger just to validate Wufei's disrespect in bringing him here uninvited."

Wufei looked angrily upwards after prodding a deep bruise on his shin. "I was just trying to offer the ladies some _choice_ in what they learn instead of just accepting whatever _you_ decide to feed them! If they want to learn karate, fine, they can go to you. If they want to learn kung fu, they can come to me."

"What does this guy do?" Duo asked.

Wufei looked at Kwan again, this time with slightly fearful uncertainty. "I'm not completely sure. I tried to ask him, but I don't think he understood."

"Where's he from?"

"Korea."

At the mention of his homeland, Kwan bowed deeply at the waist, though Duo was the only one standing who was healthy enough to return the gesture. He turned back to Heero right away and gripped him lightly by the shoulder. "Look at that guy. He's barely taller than me! Let me take a crack at him, I _know_ I can do it! I'm ready, coach, send me in!!"

Heero looked doubtful, but knew that in his present condition, there was no possibility of stopping Duo from doing anything. If things got out of hand, there were still six of them and only one of Kwan, and brute force transcended all language barriers. The hopeful, energetic look on Duo's face tugged at him terribly, and he just didn't have the heart to crush his enthusiasm. "Alright, but _be careful_. If it gets too--"

"_Thank you_!" Duo carelessly gave Heero a bear hug that made him squeak in slight pain, then helped him to an empty spot on the bench. Wufei took the last vacant place next to Heero, with reluctance, while Duo warmed up by bouncing around on the balls of his feet and throwing practice blows into the air in front of him. Kwan looked at the selection that had been made and smirked, already forming several nasty opinions in his head about any boy who could mock himself with such outrageous hair. He stepped on the mat, tossed his overcoat aside, and bowed.

Duo bowed as well and immediately turned sideways, planting his right foot behind him and raising his arms defensively. Kwan stood in a half-crouch, resting most of his weight on his out-turned back foot and the rest on just the tip of his raised right foot. His fists were brought together in front of his chin, and he peered over them, catlike, waiting for Duo to strike first. As Duo quickly brought his right knee up for an apparent front snap kick, Heero cringed for a split second, knowing it was the wrong move to make against Kwan's cat stance, but Duo twisted at the waist and turned it into a roundhouse kick that not only made Kwan duck but brushed unexpectedly at his ear just as his arms dropped into an ineffective block. Kwan stepped back, impressed, and re-evaluated his opponent's skill level.

So began a smoother and more enthralling battle than the previous one, where Heero and Wufei continually paused after each blow to judge their net advantage. Kwan had clearly been perfecting himself for many years, and no rookie should have lasted more than five minutes against him, but Duo was no ordinary rookie. It seemed that each of Kwan's kicks came a split second too late, and each of Duo's blocks was a heartbeat earlier than it needed to be. "He's _fast_," Wufei whispered, in shock at the sight before him.

"He's been even faster," Heero answered at the same volume level.

On the mat, Kwan struck Duo in the side of the head with a ridge hand, but Duo concentrated on wrapping his right leg around Kwan's extended left, and pulled it right out from under him. Everyone gasped as Kwan landed splayed out on the mat and then somersaulted back on his feet within a second of falling. Duo's unconventional fighting style that combined traditional karate with the science of street punks was an unusual exercise for the Korean.

"How long have you been training him?" Wufei asked quietly.

"Nearly eleven months," Heero answered, emitting a note of surprise at how short the period actually was.

Wufei's eyes bulged. _Amazing_, he thought.

As Duo lunged forward with a back punch, Kwan smacked the fist off to the side and attacked Duo's neck with a palm heel, which Duo barely had time to duck. He stepped back and aimed a hook kick at Kwan's head, but Kwan grappled with the flying leg and shoved Duo backwards into the mat. Before he was even down, he swept his other leg out in a wide arc and hit Kwan's left knee hard enough to make it buckle slightly, long enough for Duo to get back to his feet and into another stance. He didn't look fazed in the slightest.

"It took me _years_ to develop reflexes like that," Heero told Wufei, watching the scene tensely and squeezing his fists tighter as he worried involuntarily. He knew his student was a top-notch fighter, but it was still gut-wrenching to watch him finally pitted against an opponent who cared nothing for his safety.

"To achieve results like that...even I have to admit, you must be a highly skilled teacher."

The shock at hearing such an admission was enough to make Heero actually pry his eyes away from the fight. "Do you mean that?"

Wufei half-shrugged and looked away, trying to keep up his bravado. "It would be foolish of me to deny the obvious." As they both gazed back at the battle, he found it easier to mutter something else without Heero's eyes drilling two holes in the side of his head. "Maybe.....maybe I could practice a little more..._discretion_...when discussing my affairs with outsiders."

Heero half-shrugged as well, at half the speed, and looked down at the floor occasionally. "Well.....maybe I could be a little more...forgiving...especially in situations where there's no real harm done..." They glanced at each other in quick spurts, until they took turns giving up tiny little grunts of apology. It was enough.

Out on the mat, things were starting to get desperate. Kwan was pulling out more and more advanced moves, and Duo had to be even quicker devising original defences to keep from losing his footing for good. One particularly dazzling display of kicks and punches sent Duo sprawling, and Heero nearly leaped off the bench to help, but Wufei restrained him with a quiet reminder that it was now a matter of honour that Duo finish the fight on his own. As he got up, Duo promised himself he wouldn't fall for the same trick twice, and was expecting Kwan to do something else devious. Kwan let fly with a barrage of blows, all of which were expertly blocked, and in what looked like slow motion to the spectators, he simultaneously leapt up in the air and twirled around with his right leg extended, planning to take the braided boy out for good. While Kwan was still in the air, Duo fell to the mat, rolled underneath him, curled up swiftly into a crouching position, and launched himself with all his might at the spot where he expected Kwan's turned back to be. His calculation was dead-on, and Kwan was fiercely laid flat on his stomach with an ear-cracking slam.

A collective gasp arose from the bench as Duo rolled harmlessly to the side and got up for another swing at his attacker, but Kwan only curled up on his elbows and knees, coughing violently. Duo, panting from exertion and still in an attack stance, stared wide-eyed and started to worry. "What'd I do!? What'd I do!?"

Sally got up and padded over in her striped rugby shirt, kneeling down next to Kwan. In lieu of verbal communication, she flipped him over on his back, made him sit up, and forced his head between his knees, after a brief examination that greatly took into account the angle at which he hit the floor. "You just knocked the wind out of him, that's all. It's not fatal."

"So, what does that mean?" Duo gasped. "Can't he fight anymore?"

Struggling for breath, Kwan clambered to his feet, all weak and wobbly from lack of oxygen, and turned to face Duo. He held a hand against his chest as he continued to cough and wheeze, held up the other hand, and bowed deferentially. Then, without asking anyone's help, he gathered up his overcoat and dragged himself up the stairs. Wufei felt dizzy. "Incredible..."

Suddenly, it sunk in. "...you mean.....I won?" Duo asked, an ecstatic smile creeping across his face.

Heero stood and walked unsteadily over to him. "He left of his own volition...it wasn't a knockout, but...I think it counts!"

Duo bounced. "I won? I _won_!!" The pair grabbed hold of each other, ignoring their mutual aches and pains, and celebrated Duo's first official victory. Everyone crowded around all at once to congratulate him, and the day finally started looking up.

**********  
  


Trowa was getting a lot of practice lately with regards to standing outside peoples' doors and eavesdropping on the conversations within. First it was Quatre and Dorothy, as he was on covert security detail in case Dorothy became violent, and now it was the Peacecraft siblings. The elder instructed him to ready the carriage and horses immediately, but was very hush-hush about where he wanted to go. He also informed the boy that there was no need to suit up for the journey, for Pegan would be driving the carriage this time.

He did as he was told, bringing the carriage and horses to the front of the house and leaving it there with Arthur, asking him to watch over it all for just a few minutes. Then he went straight back inside to look for Quatre, but the boy was suddenly elusive. Deciding not to wait for him, he skulked around the first floor looking for the pair, but couldn't find them. He then made a methodical search travelling upwards until he reached the south wing of the second floor and heard their voices, very faintly. They seemed to be going over arrangements for a holiday, but they didn't sound at all cheerful about it. It was also terribly difficult making out the actual words because even though they believed there was no one around, they were whispering.

"...catch the train.....about seven...late for.....otherwise..."

"...packed...don't tell.....see us later..."

The voices got even fainter after that, so there was little point in staying there when he could post himself by a window and get a perfectly clear view of them getting into the carriage. It was all very mysterious, though, and he desperately needed a second opinion. He crept downstairs knowing that wherever Quatre had gotten to, he had to show up in the kitchen sooner or later, and sure enough, he did. Better yet, he was coming in through the back door with the entire rest of the team.

"...and no matter what she chooses, we'll come out ahead," Quatre was telling Heero excitedly. "If she tells Treize about Hassan, he'll be spreading himself pretty thin to cope with it, and if she tells Hassan about Treize, he'll be eliminated without leaving any evidence behind."

Heero nodded tiredly. "I just hope you know what's best, unleashing them all on each other at once."

"Quat! You'll never believe what I did!" Duo crowed, jumping out at the gardener and clamping onto him. "I fought this big huge guy about six feet tall and I _won_!"

"Is that what took you so long? It's past dinnertime!"

"Don't worry about us, we ate already," Hilde pointed out, reaching out to pinch Duo's cheek affectionately. "It was worth it to see that performance!"

"Well, gee, I didn't plan on forgetting to make dinner for the family...are they upset?"

Trowa stepped into the centre of the group with his hands in his pockets, looking dreadfully serious. "I wouldn't worry about them. They seem to have bigger things to think about than missing a meal." Seven pairs of eyes asked the same question at once. Trowa briefly told them what little he had seen and heard, and no sooner had he finished speaking than a bell rang, signifying that assistance was needed on the third floor.

The band of eight snuck up the stairs with Heero in the lead, put back into his black suit but hardly in any shape to be of service. They let him make the trip to the third floor alone while the rest of them followed Trowa's hand gestures towards the front room, where they huddled around the two picture windows and saw the carriage and horses sitting out front with Pegan at the reins. Otto emerged from the house, and showed a slight figure with a black cowl over her head into the carriage. He then put a few bags on top of the carriage and joined her, and they could only wonder if it was Relena.

Next came Milliardo, and then Heero, carrying another set of luggage between them. They were loaded up and ready to go within minutes, and as Heero was sent back into the house with a sweep of the elder Peacecraft's hand, the four of them rode off into the darkness, bound for some unknown location. None of them could fathom the reason for all the secrecy, and they were filled with a small amount of panic as they realised they had been left at home unsupervised. It didn't make sense. The family _never_ left the house without leaving behind at least a set of instructions, and the luggage suggested so much that they couldn't take it all in. They turned away from the windows and looked at each other, dumbfounded. When Heero found them in the front room, he didn't have anything to say. Apparently, after telling him to bring down the luggage, Milliardo hadn't said one syllable to him, and he felt just as lost and confused as the rest of them. Then, when three housemaids wandered in and joined them, their confusion grew exponentially.

The only one who didn't take part in all the conjecture was Lucrezia, who remained at the window long after the others began drifting off to their own little corners to think. Milliardo hadn't even hinted that he was going away, never even mentioned the possibility of travel, and she thought surely that he would have asked her to come along, even if it was just for one night. Judging by the luggage, it would be several nights.

Hours later, when the rest of the house had gone to bed, she was still sitting by the window, waiting in vain for her love's carriage to return.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Sorry AGAIN for the delay! =@_@= I had the kind of headache that made it impossible to look at a screen. I'm fine now, though. =^_^= I'm gonna keep this short, because I'm getting straight to work on ep. 64 this afternoon, so I'll leave you with November 3rd to think about, and I hope everybody has a fun & safe Halloween! Baibai! =D (*updates Duo's official scoreboard to 1-0, gives Wu and Hee-chan five demerit points each* Tsk, tsk, tsk.)


	64. A Nickel's Worth of Free Advice

**Disclaimer:** ...what? You think I have time to write a new disclaimer every week? Do you have any idea how busy I am!? =P Fuggedaboudit.

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Sixty-Four: A Nickel's Worth of Free Advice

_"Who cannot give good counsel? 'Tis cheap, it costs them nothing." ~Robert Burton, "Anatomy of Melancholy" _

November 3rd, 1902

Abandoned by their overseers, the servants of Bridlewood sat trancelike around the kitchen table, picking away at their breakfast and indulging in speculations that were simultaneously wild and hushed. Rumours crawled around the table in subdued voices, passed around as easily as the pot of strawberry jam. Not one mote of a reason had been given to them for the family's disappearance. Otto had returned with the carriage on the very same night that they vanished, but had also been in and out of the house a great deal ever since, running secret errands so often and so late that he spent the night elsewhere more often than not. Even Dorothy was making herself pleasantly scarce.

Sadly, Lucrezia was hit hardest by the strange goings-on, and frequently slept right through breakfast in her depression, so with no one left to serve, Duo was getting into the habit of setting out great bowlfuls and platters of food at every meal and letting everyone help themselves. As they toyed with their buffet-style continental breakfast, they couldn't help reporting what they sometimes heard while they were out and about in town.

"I 'eard someone sayin' in the post office that 'is Lordship was called back by the army, an' that 'e's takin' Miss Relena to some outpost in the desert," Elsie said in a voice full of gossipy wonder.

"I can beat that," Trowa said after a prolonged silence. "I heard from the butcher's assistant that the manor is bankrupt, and that the family's touring Europe looking for buyers."

Doris wrinkled her nose and scooped up a pat of butter for her toast. "What absolute nonsense..."

"Oh, don't go on," Bethany complained at the older woman. "If Otto won't tell us nuffink, 'ow are we _supposed_ to find out where they've gone?"

"Well, not by listening to all the weirdos out _there_, that's for sure," said Duo, reaching for a second helping of scrambled eggs. "Those women from Relena's mother's bridge club haven't stopped calling looking for confirmation of the latest rumour. I swear, they're worse than the newspapers!" He set down his fork briefly, so he could gesture animatedly with both hands. "The last one wanted to know if the police had issued warrants on them for smuggling oil paintings in and out of Russia, and how long do they plan to be on the run!?"

A stunned silence descended on the table as they contemplated just how ridiculous the neighbourhood prattle was getting. Quatre looked down and prodded his pancakes. "None of that can top what I heard in the bakery between Mrs. Winthrop and Mrs. Danforth..."

All eyes were upon him. Quatre ignored it, pretending not to notice the hungry gazes being heaped upon him, thereby exacerbating their suffering deliciously. Finally, he gave in.

"Mrs. Winthrop told Mrs. Danforth that she heard from Mrs. Ridgeley that Relena was suddenly expecting 'a little bundle,' and that her brother took her away to live in a convent abroad until after...the new arrival."

Jaws dropped everywhere, except at the south end of the table, where Duo and Heero rolled their eyes at each other, and Arthur merely scowled.

"You mean...a _baby_?" Hilde exclaimed. "No way! Not a chance!"

Trowa shook his head slowly. "I don't know...you hear about that sort of thing in _other_ families..."

Elsie leaned forward, dangerously close to squashing her sausages with her flabby bosom, and stared directly at Heero. "Would she actually _do_ a thing like that?"

Heero paused, bitterly indignant about having his French toast with marmalade interrupted. He stared back, fiery-eyed. "Why are you asking _me_?"

"Well, you two was engaged, an' all..."

"As I have already explained, several _months_ ago, if memory serves," Heero growled, tightening the grips on his knife and fork, "that so-called engagement was a blatant misunderstanding on the part of Her Ladyship, and I was merely humouring her. That hardly makes me an expert on either her moral code or her nocturnal exploits. Now, if you don't mind..." The opposition flattened, he went back to his meal in relative peace.

On his left, Duo quickly covered up a smirk with one hand. It seemed that Heero hadn't slept as soundly as he let on earlier that morning. In retrospect, that was a lovely memory to revisit, and Duo was suddenly daydreaming while the rest of the staff argued over Relena's character...

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


The sound returned around two in the morning, the dinging, clanging, annoying sound that had savagely ripped apart every shred of sleep to be had in the room for the past three hours. Duo had tried everything, from pleading to bribery to stuffing a pillow over his head, but every defence was useless. Shadow was playing with her little jingle ball under the bed.

Inside Arthur's hand-carved wooden lattice sphere, a bright silver bell was being batted around, with clunks and rolls and dingles and jingles, and the chef just couldn't take it anymore. He sat up, tossed the pillow to the foot of the bed, and leaned right over the side with his braid dusting the floor next to his slippers. "Knock it off!" he whispered violently.

The jingling stopped. Duo retrieved his pillow, leaned back into it, and sighed. Not five minutes later, the jingling started up again. Duo dragged the pillow over his face and groaned into it, then sat up and glared at Heero, irrationally angry at him for not being in a similar state.

Heero appeared to be snoozing quite peacefully, rolled over on his side facing away from Duo with both hands tucked under his pillow for warmth. He had once told Duo that he was capable of invoking two different modes of sleep, labelled 'safe' and 'danger,' each with their own depth and reaction time to external stimuli. Since he had every reason to feel safe in his own bedroom, he generally slept in 'safe mode,' meaning that Shadow and her jingle ball had a better chance of waking the dead. Right at that moment, Duo was terribly jealous of that ability.

After ten more minutes of happy kitty noises, it was clear that until Shadow went to sleep, Duo wasn't about to get a wink either. He was bored. He was lonely. He leaned over his companion and gazed spitefully at his serene expression. "Heeeero," he whispered. No reply. He tried it again, a little louder. "Heero?" That failed as well, so Duo took the rather extreme measure of shoving the boy in the shoulder, _hard_. Heero awoke with a start and clutched the edge of the mattress frantically, thinking for a split second that he was about to slip over the edge. As he regained his bearings, Duo looked at him sympathetically. "Can't sleep, huh?"

Heero propped himself up into a slouchy sitting position and gave Duo a drowsy, bleary-eyed 'Baka, nanda-yo!' glare. Duo smiled involuntarily. Heero looked so adorably scruffy first thing in the morning, and even more so in the middle of the night. Those chocolately spikes that never saw a barber's chair, and that were such a deep brown as to be a half-shade away from black, flew comically in all directions until they were traditionally ruffled into their favoured shape on the way down to breakfast. It was a source of unending speculation for Duo, at how Heero could stand in front of a mirror, attacking the front of his hair at random with a pair of scissors and have it come out looking like a turkey's tailfeathers, and yet cut the hairline at the back of his neck in a perfectly plumb line even though he couldn't see it. Duo put it down to some kind of programming glitch incurred while his keepers were teaching him to be self-sufficient.

Heero was about to growl out an inquiry as to why he had been so rudely jostled, when he heard the jingling, and groaned. "She's not tired of it yet, I take it?"

"Nope." Duo half-hugged and half-flopped forward into his pillow. "Man, I'm gonna kill Arthur next time I see him..."

"You've been saying that a lot lately, but I notice Arthur's still walking around unharmed."

"_How_ can you sleep right through that?" Duo asked after some playful 'rowr' noises seeped up from underneath them both.

Heero shrugged. "Practice."

"You couldn't...maybe.....teach me how, could you?"

The ambient moonlight was just bright enough for Heero to see that 'angelic mouse' look on Duo's face, the one he just couldn't resist. "Lie down," he muttered through a slight smile. Duo eagerly and quickly repositioned himself on his back, making almost as much noise as Shadow. "The first thing is to be _quiet_."

Duo grinned. "Sorry."

"Now, what part of your body moves the most when you do nothing but breathe?"

The odd question left Duo staring at the ceiling. "Gee, uh...I never thought about it before."

"Few people do," said Heero, "but the answer depends on your state of mind. What does Otto look like when he's hunched over the book of accounts, trying to make the columns add up?" Heero took a large breath and sighed it out quickly, expanding the top half of his ribcage with a heave of his shoulders. "How much effort does that take?"

Duo tried it, still lying down, and had to work pretty hard to inhale that way against the friction of the bedcovers.

"And what does Shadow look like when she's stretched out asleep in a beam of warm sunlight?" Heero gently tugged the blankets partway off Duo and, quite calmly, rested a hand right on the boy's abdomen. "She breathes from her belly, and nothing else moves."

After taking a moment to get over the electric giddyness of being touched, Duo tried breathing using only those muscles located under Heero's hand, and to his surprise, it was a lot easier. He took another deep breath and nodded. "Is that all there is to sleeping through noises?"

"No, but that's where it starts. Whenever you're under stress, good or bad, you automatically tend to breathe using your upper chest and shoulders, but if you force yourself to breathe with your belly, you can actually calm yourself down. Once you've mastered that, start focusing on the pattern of your breathing, and eventually the background noise will fade away. Try it now."

Heero took back his hand, covered Duo up again, and propped his head up on one elbow to watch his progress. Duo pressed his head back into the pillow for a second, then closed his eyes and did what was suggested to him. As he paid close attention to the flow of air in and out of him, he counted slowly, until he forgot the order of the numbers. Then his mind wandered to moments in the past when he was equally relaxed, then, without even realizing it, he could no longer hear Shadow or the jingle ball. Within minutes, Duo was fast and very soundly asleep, and he wouldn't know until the morning that he had just been taught the basics of meditation. He wouldn't realize at all that Heero had curled up close to him as soon as he drifted off, and wrapped an arm around his waist without stirring him in the slightest.

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


"...unnerstand that never, _never_ in the hist'ry of this house has the family jus' up an' vanished like that." Arthur's stern but rarely-heard voice cut into Duo's daydream, but not without the help of a vagrant foot knocking into his under the table. It came from Duo's right, so he looked in that direction and found Heero staring at him questioningly. He quickly smiled back to reassure him that all was well, then picked up the syrup jug and took it over to the pantry for refilling.

"Well, I dunno," Elsie moaned. "The whole thing smells like Monday morning at the fishmonger's."

Doris smacked the back of Elsie's hand in a motherly fashion. "I don't think we should be sitting here finding fault with them. If we simply ignore the waggin' tongues down our road, we'll see that we haven't been treated as badly as we think. The family has a perfect right to go where they want, when they want, and informing us of their every move is merely a courtesy." During Doris' speech, Duo poured syrup into the jug up to the top, but caught himself snatching a look at Heero, and the syrup slightly overflowed. He caught the drip on his finger before it hit the floor, and coincidentally enough was looking right at Heero as he licked it off without thinking. Heero lifted his coffee cup to hide a crawling smirk, and Duo retreated farther into the pantry to fight off a serious giggle fit, without even knowing why he was laughing.

After Doris was finished telling the staff off in general for giving in to gossip, most everyone found that they had eaten their fill, and began drifting off in other directions. While Duo was still recovering in the pantry, Quatre slunk up to him, looking over his shoulder, and tapped Duo on his. "Can I talk to you?" he whispered.

"Sure, go ahead!"

Quatre quickly shushed Duo and looked over his shoulder yet again. "Not here. Can you meet me out back, in the stables? Sometime before lunch when everyone's busy?"

Duo blinked at the peculiar request, and helped himself to another drip or two of syrup while he thought about it. "Okay..."

"Thanks," Quatre said gratefully, "and please don't tell anyone either."

The gardener vanished as quickly as he had appeared, and Duo didn't know what to make of it. Quatre was a loyal friend, though, and it was a relatively small request that he had every intention of granting.

**********  
  


In a part of the city she didn't fully recognize, Dorothy stumbled out of a chemist's shop, then paused on the sidewalk to shake a couple of newly-purchased pills out into her hand and quickly swallow them bare. She wasn't entirely certain what happened after the party broke up the night before at some random debutante's house, but judging by the headache she awoke with in the girl's front parlour, along with a half-dozen other party-goers, Dorothy reasoned that she must have had some decent fun. Now the problem was what to do next.

She had been trying hard to avoid Quatre while she thought about his offer, or rather, his ultimatum. Bouncing from house to house and mooching off the other members of her class could only sustain her for so long, however; a decision had to be made. As she wobbled slowly down the cobbled streets trying to walk off the rest of her hangover, she took a folded piece of paper from her purse and looked at it yet again. Stepping in between Hassan and Treize felt an awful lot like doing Quatre's bidding like some sort of fluffy pet, but if her only alternatives were going broke or going back to Italy in disgrace, perhaps it wasn't so bad. She turned down the very next street she recognized and headed in the direction which she hoped would take her to Lady Une's neighbourhood.

It was a long, arduous walk, but it paid off when Dorothy saw the ivory gates that separated Une's estate from the road, and she realized that she was headed in the right direction after all. Half a block from the grand, sprawling house, she smoothed out her hair and danced a powder puff lightly over her face, just enough to make herself presentable before taking her slightly scuffed shoes up the front walk to ring the bell.

The snooty butler who had once carried Dorothy out over his shoulder greeted her icily, and left her in the foyer to announce her presence to the lady of the house. Without much of a delay, she was shown into the sitting room where Lady Une was already entertaining some visitors, three ladies from the neighbourhood with whom she was playing cards and keeping score on dainty rose-printed notepaper. She didn't even look up as Dorothy entered. "Have a seat, darling, and I'll be with you in a moment. I'm sorry, we've already started this hand, but maybe we'll deal you in on the next one, hm?"

Dorothy smiled cattily. "Of course, m'lady...whatever you think best." She wandered over to a blue velvet chaise longue and perched on it, making Une slightly suspicious at how agreeable she was being, compared to her last visit.

"Would you care for a drink to tide you over until I finish?" Une asked in an overly-pleasant tone.

"No, thank you," Dorothy declined. "I'd wait until the three of us could be alone in order to discuss business anyway."

"The three of us?" Une sang, raising an eyebrow. "If you're referring to my intended, he's out."

Dorothy frowned. She had waited all week to come to this decision, and she wasn't keen on waiting any longer to get it over with. "Out?"

"Yes...gone for the afternoon, to see his niece in the country." Une's cold and distant tone, plus the way she looked continually down at her hand of cards, were clear indicators that she disapproved strongly of Treize's absence, especially when Relena was the cause of it.

Gnawing on her lower lip in thought, Dorothy asked herself one more time if this was what she really wanted, and one more time she couldn't think of a reason to refuse. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and leaned back casually. "That's alright...I'll wait."

The girl's confident tone made Une look up at last, and she found Dorothy's smile unsettling. Whatever she intended to bring up in this future conversation must have been huge, and all through the rest of the card game with her acquaintances, Lady Une's curiosity consumed her until she was counting the hours until Treize's return, for Dorothy wouldn't let one syllable of her speech slip otherwise.

**********  
  


Quatre's cryptic request left Duo tingling with curiosity for the rest of the morning, and all through the preparations for lunch. While the others gathered around the table once again, Duo donned his winter coat and told them he was just stepping out to fetch Quatre in from the garden. It was near enough to the truth, and even though the hesitance in Duo's voice alerted Heero that something was amiss, he trusted Duo implicitly, and was content to let him go unquestioned.

Duo knew before he left the house that he and Quatre would probably be awhile, though he didn't know why. He was already thinking up excuses for their prolonged absence, and had tossed half of them out by the time he got to the stable. Each of the horses received a friendly pat on the nose to say hello, but Quatre was nowhere to be seen.

"Psst!"

Duo looked from left to right, then back again, but a few bits of falling straw finally made him look up. Quatre's snowy head was poking out over the edge of the hayloft. Duo gaped instinctively. "What're you doin' up there?"

"Just come up here, would you?" the gardener pleaded, beckoning wildly.

With a blank look and a shrug, Duo climbed the rickety wooden ladder, being careful not to trip over his own coat, though he was glad to have it. The temperature was just low enough for a person to see their own breath crystallize in mid-air, and Duo was happy for the horses' sakes that they had big, thick blankets slung over their backs. He hauled himself up into the loft and plopped down next to Quatre, dislodging more hay that fell in a bulky pattern on the floor, then folded his hands in his lap and waited.

Quatre met his eyes less than easily, clutching his coat closer around his shoulders. "Thanks for coming. I, uh...just needed to talk to someone, and you only have to be in that house for five minutes before you start running into all the wrong someones. I thought maybe...well, _you'll_ understand."

Duo looked innocent, but sounded unnaturally serious when he finally spoke. "Understand what?"

Quatre played with his coat, tucking his hands up into the sleeves and rubbing the metal buttons together. "I'm sorry to drag you up here, but this is where I do my best thinking. I've been trying to figure something out for myself, but I've hit a wall, and well...I think you can help me better than anyone else around." There was a long pause, during which the clinking of buttons gradually ceased. "How do you know when you're in love?"

As the words sank in, Duo was overcome by a giddy smile. "Whoa, back up! Have you, uh...got someone in _mind_ for this position of honour?"

"I really don't know," Quatre said, blushing. "I was hoping you could tell me what it feels like for _you_, and then I'd..." He stopped as Duo's expression turned from whimsical to slightly shocked. "What's wrong?"

"...nothing, really," Duo admitted with a half-smirk. "I've just never said it out loud like that. I mean, it sounds so _weird_...'me'..." _...in love...boy, that does sound abnormal._

"I hope you don't mind my mentioning it, and of course, I'd _never_ breathe a word of it in public..."

Duo seemed lost in very pleasant thoughts, and didn't appear all that worried about discretion as he let his eyes drift blissfully closed. The daydream was returning.

"He really makes you happy, doesn't he?"

Duo nodded slowly. "Yeah."

"What's it like?"

"It's like.....I don't know what to call it, it's just...wonderful. It's _better_ than 'best friends.' We're together practically all the time, we understand each other, we tell each other _everything_." The rush of enthusiasm swept him away and he had a long distance to paddle back before he could acknowledge Quatre's presence again. "Is that what it's like with you and...whoever?"

Quatre looked dubious. "Well...sometimes, a little. We don't hae a _lot_ of free time together...and we don't always agree...and sometimes it feels like we're from different planets, but if we have an argument, we _always_ try to patch it up quickly." He looked down and picked idly at some straw. "I'm just not sure what we mean to each other, because we don't seem to be as perfect together."

"Hey...nobody says you have to be _perfect_," Duo said with a grin. "Sure, me and Heero are pretty friendly-like on the surface, but there's a lot abuse that goes on too, y'know...he still pulls my hair and calls me an idiot, and I still smack him in the back of the head if he doesn't eat his vegetables!"

A second later, they both burst out laughing, and Quatre was again enamoured with Duo's gift for kidding around. "Oh, I _wish_ I could laugh like that with--" He stopped abruptly, short of revealing the person's name.

Duo leaned closer with a teasing glare. "Don't you clam up on me _now_...c'mon, who is it? Is it someone I know?"

"...well..."

"I bet it's Bethany...she's had her eye on Trowa before, but she didn't get anywhere. Has she been givin' you the eye?"

Quatre's ears turned bright red, a truly bizarre phenomenon to behold. "...no, I-I really can't tell, not until I'm sure."

"Aaah, spoilsport." Duo drew his knees up and latched his arms around them. "Okay, suit yourself. Just invite me to the wedding, if there is one. I'll even do your catering, half-price!"

Quatre looked even more dubious than before, as that was hardly likely. "Well...thanks for listening, anyway. I feel a little bit better just discussing it with someone. Do you find it helps you to get a little outside input?"

Now Duo began to share Quatre's look of confusion, the one that was both hopeful and doubtful. "I sure don't get _much_ of it. I mean, nothing against talking to you, you're great...but the one person I'd _really_ like to tell...I'm scared to."

"Who?"

"Helen."

"Oh."

Duo leaned his head forward on his knees, sighing. "She's the closest thing to a mother I've ever had. I want to tell her how happy I am, and why...but I'm not sure she'd be as understanding, y'know?"

Quatre shrugged. "Only one way to find out."

Duo nodded silently. _Maybe I should stop putting off writing that letter. It's kinda eating me up, not knowing what she thinks._ For Quatre's sake, he sat up straight and slapped on a smile. "Only one way for _you_ to find out if what you've got with this mystery crush is real, too. You two gotta talk."

"...yeah." _Maybe talking is the answer...but then again, it could make everything worse. Oh, why is it I have such an easy time deciphering what other people feel, and still have no clue what I feel!? I'm more confused now than I was when..._ Quatre stalled, vocally and mentally. "...well, I guess lunch is on the table by now."

"You bet! Let's get a move on, I'm starving!" Duo happily bounced down the ladder and was out the door like a flash, but Quatre couldn't seem to make his arms and legs move so fast. He followed Duo back to the house at a slow, fearful pace, and would still be struggling to sort out his thoughts for days to come. He didn't regret talking about it, however, even if he didn't get as clear an answer as he would have liked; in all honesty, he couldn't blame that on Duo, because he never really had all the facts to begin with.

**********  
  


All the way from London to Hampshire, the same boy was sitting opposite Treize on the train. He didn't think much of it at the time, and sat flipping through his newspaper as the countryside whizzed by at a comfortable speed. The boy was fairly nondescript and didn't pose much of a threat. He was fair-haired and round-headed, with shallow-set eyes and a cunning, contemptuous gaze, but he didn't have much to say, and kept to himself the whole journey. Treize didn't think much of him at the time, but he should have.

As the Count swept out of the train and onto the platform in Southampton in his long black overcoat with cape attached, holding his silver-headed walking stick before him like a sword, he was too preoccupied thinking about the details about the impertinent telegram he had received from Relena to notice that the nondescript boy was following him. Instructing him to show up at the country house on a certain day at a certain time for undisclosed business reasons was terribly rude of her, but something about the wording of her message intrigued him, and made him set aside his indignance long enough to give the trip a try.

He carried no luggage, for he intended to be back in London that very evening, so he was able to stalk straight past the poor saps still locating their baggage and be the first one in line to hire a carriage for the remainder of the journey. To his mild surprise, the nondescript boy reached the vehicle in question at precisely the same moment, and their hands landed on the door handle simultaneously.

The blond boy leaned back a bit and regarded the imposing gentleman with absolutely no fear. "Begging your pardon, sir...I _am_ in rather a hurry, if you wouldn't mind taking the next carriage." He spoke with no particular accent, and had a slightly snide air, as though he had summed Treize up in six words or less and entered the account into his mental database within five minutes of spotting him on the train.

Treize sneered. "I am _also_ in a hurry, and I would be greatly obliged if--"

"Well, in that case, the longer we stand here arguing, the tardier we'll _both_ be," said the stranger. "Tell you what, why don't we share? I don't mind, I'd quite like the company."

"I doubt very much that you're going my way," Treize said dryly.

"Really? Where are you going?"

The question came so quickly that Treize answered before he had time to think about whether it was a good idea or not. "Towards the coast."

"Why, what a coincidence," the stranger said with a smile. "That's just where I'm going." He held the carriage door open with a smile. "After you."

It all happened so quickly. The blond boy was a smooth talker, smoother than most people Treize had encountered, and he suddenly found himself rapidly departing the train station in the boy's company, not knowing exactly how it came to be. The Count found himself forced into small talk with someone he did _not_ wish to be heavily acquainted with, and it lasted all the way to the front gates of Sutherby House, where Treize shouted up to the driver that it was time for him to alight. With only a short word of parting to his erstwhile travelling companion, he escaped and made for the gate, watching carefully as the carriage pulled around the corner and out of sight.

Inside the carriage, languidly leaning back in his gray overcoat and nondescript suit, the blond boy opened the window and leaned out to give some additional instructions to the driver. As a result, the carriage drew up along the back property line of the Peacecraft estate, and the boy hopped out, after paying the driver double what he was owed for the ride, mostly to deny that he had seen either of them.

A few snow flurries began to drift down from the dusky clouds as the fair-haired stranger hiked across the grounds to the house, and he knew exactly which one it was from the ink drawing he had of it in his pocket. As he approached, the glass-enclosed conservatory looked to be the most vulnerable security point, and with the tip of his pocket knife jammed in the lock, he quickly gained entry. From there, he prowled around the hallways, pausing every few steps to listen for signs of life. It was one of his many exceptional talents, and he grew prouder of himself every day. Before long, he had located the voice of the man with the silver-headed walking stick, co-mingled with the voices of a distinguished young man, and a soft-spoken girl. They were all coming from the same room, and the stranger crouched just outside the doorway, taking out his notepad and pen.

"...then get on with it," the voice of Treize was in the middle of saying. "If all you dragged me out here for is to pontificate about my business dealings, then--"

"We won't keep you long," the girl's voice said. "There's just a few things my brother and I wanted to clear up about what you told me a few weeks ago."

"What's to clear up? I thought I laid out the situation in terms that were perfectly plain. As I remember...your Ladyship was _floored_ by the news." Treize chuckled.

"And no doubt you thought my tiny brain couldn't handle it," the girl scoffed back angrily. "That's where you made your mistake, Uncle. You expected me to fall to pieces as soon as I knew the truth!"

"And you must have thought I would have stood by and done nothing," the young man's voice said with an odd calmness. "Insulting our intelligence seems to be the least of your crimes, however, which is why we requested your presence."

The blond boy heard the sound of a match being lit, conspicuously without permission, as Treize took an imported cigar out of his coat pocket and indulged himself. "I suppose the head inspector of Scotland Yard is hiding behind the curtain...as if it matters. There's no obvious evidence of my...little _hobby_...and anything _you_ might have to offer the authorities would be nothing but hearsay. But go on...amuse me with your junior detective prowess." A skidding noise told the stranger that Treize had helped himself to a chair as well. He was making himself quite at home, it seemed.

"On the contrary," the girl said, "we realize that there would be little point in running to the police. From what you told me, this problem is _far_ too large for them to deal with by themselves. Their resources would be wasted."

"So instead, my sister and I have opted to take a different approach, one that we feel will be much more productive in the fullness of time. All you have to do is listen, absorb, and answer a few simple questions...and then you'll be free to go."

"...'_free to go_'?" Treize mocked. "Is that supposed to be a joke?"

"Not at all," the young man stated. "While the three of us chat, a few willing volunteers from the village will be making some modifications to all the exits. The windows will be barred and the doors locked, and the only way out will be to give us the answers we want." 

Out in the hall, the blond boy grinned wickedly at the cleverness displayed by the mysterious siblings, and didn't much mind the prospect of being trapped in the house along with Treize. He simply stuck to his orders, jotting down notes on everything he heard being discussed with the Count, and kept his standard-issue revolver within reach in case he was spotted during his reconnaissance. _Go on, Herr Khushrenada, stall if you really want to. I'll be happy to stay here, if that's what it takes,_ he thought smugly. _Better than disappointing my master. Certainly better than turning into a weak-willed jellyfish like that foolish coward, Yuy! I won't let my master down like he did..._

**********  
  


The day after Milliardo disappeared, a letter arrived for Lucrezia. No one knew about it but her, and she had kept it a secret ever since. At least once a day, and oftentimes more than that, she would sit in the front room where she had watched his carriage speed off into the night, and read the letter over and over again, as if sheer will could transform the words on the page. Unquestionably, the letter always remained the same.

Milliardo warned of difficult times ahead, and ultimately left the future of their relationship in her hands. If she aspired to have faith and patience, he would be eternally grateful if she waited for him, but he also suggested that if she found the hardship of separation was too much for her, he wouldn't hold her captive. To leave or to stay, it was up to her.

Lucrezia's first instinct was that it was something to do with the military, some secret mission that she, as a mere civilian, could not be privy to, but then, why take Relena? It was always possible that he dropped his sister off somewhere safe until the problem blew over, but Lucrezia couldn't believe that she wouldn't merit the same consideration in such a case. Nothing about the situation made sense, and the more she thought about it, the more lost and alone she felt.

Then, a thought occurred to her: For months and months while Milliardo was abroad fighting the war, she had begged him for trust and patience while she traipsed across Britain in secret, to avoid the long-reaching and irate arm of her family, and he had been trusting and patient. It wasn't just the fact that he had little say in the matter, being thousands of miles away, but in his few letters he insisted that she do whatever she felt necessary, and constantly reassured her that their love could endure. The only thing that had changed now was the direction in which the reassurance was expected to flow.

It was then that she decided. She would wait for him, but also try to find out what it was that he didn't want her to know, even if he felt it was for her own good. Working so closely with Heero and his little network of spies, she reasoned, she might very well develop some skills of subterfuge that could lead her to the answer through less-than-honest means.

_Whatever it takes..._

Satisfied that things would be looking up awfully soon, Lucrezia went up to her newly-adopted room and put the letter away. She no longer felt the need to cling to it, like the sole piece of driftwood in an endless ocean.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


_Next, in Episode Sixty-Five: Members of the Bridlewood Eight take on a training mission to test their abilities, and pride, as always, goeth before a fall._

*looks innocent* Deary me, who could that strange blond fellow be? =o_o= Aaah, I'll bet someone figures it out before I hafta draw a picture of him. You guys are smarties. =^_^= Let's set the next eppy for *looks at calendar* November 13th, okeydokey? Gosh, more questions than answers in this story, as usual... =^_~= *evil authoress cackle*


	65. Front Page News

**Disclaimer:** ...what? You think I have time to write a new disclaimer every week? Do you have any idea how busy I am!? =P Fuggedaboudit.

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Episode Sixty-Five: Front Page News

_"In theory there is no difference between theory and practice. In practice there is." ~Yogi Berra _

November 13th, 1902

Nobody seemed to care that the manor was going downhill fast. Without Otto's intimidating presence or Heero's thirst for absolute perfection, the chores simply weren't getting done as well as they used to be. Any given surface was generally only half dusted, and only half as often. The carpet sweeper was lost and had yet to be found. Everyday city grime was starting to accumulate on the windows, and few were all that interested in wiping them down. Staunchly loyal Doris, who was legitimately too old to do everyone else's work plus her own, greatly feared that when, or indeed, _if_ Relena and Milliardo returned, the house would be a shambles by then.

The only one who wasn't slacking off in any way was Duo, for while the woodwork wouldn't die from a week without polishing, people still needed to eat, and strangely enough, they seemed to do _more_ of it when they weren't working so hard. Duo thought that should have been the other way around, but there was no court of appetites to which he could take his case.

The poor, bedraggled chef was already in a rush to take care of the day's meals in advance, for the little band of spies-in-training had chosen that day to test their abilities in the field. Sally was supposed to have shown up at seven that morning, but when she didn't arrive, Lucrezia volunteered to dash across town and find out why she was delayed. They didn't hear back from her. In a move that felt suspiciously like sending a search party after the search party, Heero rang Wufei at the pub and asked him to check on _both_ of them on his way over. They were still waiting for his call at a quarter to ten.

Now Heero was bored to tears, running late, three bodies short, and hovering over Duo's shoulder like a puppy wondering who moved his food dish. It wasn't so much that there wasn't any real work to be done around the house, just that Heero was no longer interested in doing any of it. Early on in the meal preparation, Duo felt all warm and fuzzy from having Heero underfoot, but after he asked for the third time if there was anything he could help with, it began to get on his nerves. "If you're that desperate for something to do, you could always scrub the floor in the scullery," Duo suggested.

"I'm not bothering you, am I?"

"No, you're _not_ bothering me, and would you quit asking that?"

"Sorry." Heero backed off a bit, but continued to hover. He had unloaded quite a bit of emotional baggage from his past lately, but one concept still dogged him: The need for instructions.

Duo watched him out of the corner of his eye as he was chopping watercress, saw the way he just lolled around with his hands in his pockets, and took pity on him. "Okay...you can pick out something for dessert," he said, pointing to the pantry.

With a renewed light in his eyes, Heero walked swiftly to the pantry and ran an eye over the contents. "Anything?"

"Yeah, anything."

Heero didn't know what to make of the tins and boxes and packages flooding his vision all at once. After a good long think, he picked out a box at random and squinted at it.

"Except _that_," Duo ordered. "That's got coconut in it. Trowa can't have coconut. It makes him pass out. I'm waiting until he's out of the house to make that up, so's I don't contaminate anything with it."

"...oh." Heero put the box back and started hunting down another, this time picking up a packet of powdered custard with chocolate flakes already added.

"Bethany won't eat anything polychromatic on a Thursday, she says it brings her bad luck."

Heero frowned at the packet, then glared at the chef. "You're making these up."

"I am not!" Duo exclaimed, half-laughing. "If you'd spent eight hours a day for the last year and a half in this kitchen, you'd know these things too." He grinned and looked away, listening as Heero put the packet back on the shelf with a snarl. "And before you pick up the cookie tin, we've only got oatmeal raisin left. Oatmeal makes Quatre gag, and Hilde won't eat raisins because of a bad experience she once had involving an abandoned bakery and an infestation of bugs."

Heero jammed his hands back in his pockets and stalked out of the pantry, grumbling in his native tongue. It didn't seem that long ago when he had to admonish Duo for not doing a dietary background check on certain members of the household, but that table had been well turned since then.

After chopping the last of the watercress, Duo dried his hands on a tea towel, walked over with a sympathetic smile, shoved Heero into a chair, and began massaging his shoulders. "Aw, cheer up. If you want, I can break something, and then you can spend the night gluing it back together..."

"I never thought I'd still be so dependant on busywork after all this time," Heero said. "When I wasn't spying on Treize, I was serving tea. When I wasn't serving tea, I was tidying the dining room. When _everything_ was done, I polished the silver until it was time to sleep. What did I do when I didn't know what to do?"

Duo cringed at the memory. "You let me drag you out on those stupid daredevil missions, that's what. I don't know _what_ I was thinking back then...probably that I didn't have anything to lose, and that it wouldn't matter if I got splattered looking for an adrenaline rush." He pulled up another chair behind Heero's, sat down right on the edge, and wrapped both arms around him, pressing their cheeks together lightly. "Don't worry, though...I've got _much_ better places to get an adrenaline fix now..."

With a reason to smile at last, Heero reached a hand up and clutched one of Duo's, leaning his head a bit to the side with his eyes closed. As Duo turned his head slightly, Heero felt a stream of warm breath tickling his skin, and expected a pair of warm lips pressed against his neck to follow, but several distant clomping noises that suddenly spewed out of the stairwell soon put a stop to that. Both heads snapped up, eyes wide open, and Duo was so quick to scramble out of the chair and put it back in its place that he nearly fell over. He was back to his watercress, and Heero to his moping, just seconds before the first of many feet came into view.

"Bad news," Trowa said in an introductory tone as he led a short parade into the kitchen. Behind him were Quatre, Hilde, and Wufei, all fresh from the front hall where Wufei had just arrived carrying a small wooden crate marked 'Tangerines.' One of them must have spotted him coming up the walk in their boredom and let him in, for the doorbell never rang once. "Lu and Sal aren't coming."

"What?"

"Why not?"

Wufei took an envelope out of the open-top crate, handed it to Trowa, then sat down, putting the box on the kitchen table. "By the time I got to her office, they were both on their way out. Sally just shoved this crate into my hands, and they left."

While Heero stared at the tabletop and contemplated why he bothered in general, Trowa opened the envelope and read the note inside, as everyone else took a seat. "It's from Sally," he confirmed needlessly. "She says, 'Sorry we can't be there for spy school, I know you've put a lot of effort into clearing your collective calendars, but Lucrezia's been upset lately, so we're going to have a girls' day out instead, since this was the only day I could get off surgery. But there's no reason why the rest of you can't go out and do something constructive, so as our contribution, we've put together a little challenge, if you'd like to use it.'" Trowa glanced ahead in the note, glanced at the little orange crate, and went on. "'In the box is a bag full of folded papers, and on them are written several different items. Since we think espionage is just as much about being places you shouldn't be and taking things you shouldn't have, we thought you might like to have a scavenger hunt.'"

Surprise flowed freely around the table. Wufei took the described bag out of the crate and gave it a light shake, resulting in paper-like crinkling noises.

"'We suggest that you break up into teams, draw an item at random from the bag, and try to find it by the end of the day,'" the note went on to say. "'Sorry if this messes up your plans, but we'll make it up to you later, we promise.'"

Everyone looked at each other, then at Heero, since the final decision was his. They fully expected him to act slighted at the suggestion that his own plans for the day should be tossed out, but to their astonishment, he seemed agreeable. "Sounds interesting."

"Then if we're pairing off, I pick you!" Duo called out, grasping Heero's arm playfully with both hands. A ripple effect swept through the rest of the group, leaving Hilde paired with Wufei and Quatre paired with Trowa. Everyone looked quite happy with their arrangements, as well.

"Alright, times a-wastin'," Hilde said as she rolled up her sleeve. "Let's see what kind of stuff they thought up." Wufei held the black bag of mystery open as she dipped her hand in and pulled out a folded slip of paper, exactly as advertised. With dramatic flair, she opened it and read their goal out loud. "A fisherman's net."

"Easy!" Wufei crowed. "We'll be back before sunset!"

"You seem awfully sure of yourself," said Heero. "Best not to count the rest of us out."

"Well, maybe you'd like to bet a steak dinner on the outcome."

Duo stepped in between them, just in time once again. He was getting quicker at it every time they had a tiff. "Don't you two start," he barked, reaching into the bag next. He took out the second paper, opened it, read it, and frowned. "...a freshly blooming flower? In _November_? How does she expect us to find _that_?"

Wufei smirked. "A steak dinner with mashed potatoes, gravy, and apple cobbler on the side."

"It's not as hard as you think, Duo," said Quatre, taking pity on him. "Plenty of plants bloom in cold weather, like--"

"Whoa, wait a second," Trowa said, putting up a hand to stop his teammate. "That steak dinner sounds pretty good. You know, if we're going to make a _real_ competition out of this, then you shouldn't be giving them any hints."

"Oh, now _that's_ gratitude!" Duo whined. "I cook, and I slave, and what thanks do I get!?"

"Don't _you_ two start either," Heero said, arching an eyebrow at the chef with a faint grin.

While Duo was being placated, Quatre pulled the third item from the bag, read the contents, and looked puzzled. He showed it to Trowa, who looked equally perplexed. Duo smirked. "Well? What's the big secret?"

Quatre hesitated. "A butternut squash."

Trowa squared his shoulders defensively yet unconvincingly. "No problem."

Grinning wider by the second, Duo looked back and forth between them. "You don't have the slightest clue what a butternut squash looks like, have you?"

Quatre scowled and whacked Trowa lightly in the shoulder. "Why don't you know? You worked on a farm when you came to England!"

"I worked with _livestock_, not...uh.....squashes."

"Okay, try this on for size," Duo said in a confidently calculating voice. "It'll take just as long for us two to look up late-blooming flowers in the library as it will for you to tear through my cookbooks looking for a picture of a dumb squash, so you give me a hint and I'll give you a hint, deal?"

Trowa and Quatre looked uncertainly at each other, then the gardener sighed. "Fine, then...write these down. Asters, chrysanth's, begonias, marigolds--"

"Hold on, hold on! Lemmie get a pencil..."

And so began a peculiar training day that left six egos and a steak dinner hanging in the balance.

**********  
  


To his dismay, Wufei soon realized that he grossly overestimated the ease of locating a fisherman's net in metropolitan London. He knew there was plenty of water, and plenty of boats, but a critical element was missing: There weren't all that many fish swimming in the Thames.

Hilde continually reminded him of his blunder as they wandered aimlessly around the docks. The locals were quick to inform them that, because of the heavy shipping traffic and pollution in general, fish preferred the smaller tributaries farthest from the city centre, and even then, the tools of choice were rod and reel, not giant nets. It seemed that unless they were willing to blow half the day travelling out to the coast, their mission was doomed to failure.

"You know, I've never even _tasted_ steak?" Hilde said bitterly, with her arms wrapped sternly around herself as she walked.

Wufei sighed. "I know."

"When I was living streetside, we were lucky to have _bread_, and meat was the impossible dream!"

"I _know_."

"Fine thing, boasting about how easy this was going to be before you had all the facts."

Wufei stopped walking, folded his arms, and waited until Hilde actually noticed and turned around before finally snapping at her. "How much worse do you _want_ me to feel, woman!?"

"I expect you to feel at _least_ as bad as I do!" Hilde cried. "Look at us, we can't even handle a _practice_ mission! What sort of use are we going to be to the others if this is the best we can do? My whole _life_, I've waited to make some sort of worthwhile contribution other than washing dishes and selling flowers, because that would mean I exist for a reason! At this rate, all I'll be able to say is that I made sandwiches for the seven people who saved the world all on their own..."

Wufei's glare softened. She blamed herself for their failure more than she blamed him, for while the one idea he had didn't amount to much, she hadn't had any ideas at all. "Look...let's just say this is nobody's fault, and think about it some more over lunch. It's rarely advisable to think on an empty stomach."

Hilde quietly agreed, and they left the docks in search of food. Ironically enough, the first eating establishment they happened across was a fish and chips shop, but since the clouds that loomed overhead were looking more ominous by the minute, they opted to take what was offered to them now rather than take a chance on being hungry _and_ getting drenched later. That wouldn't have improved their mood one bit.

The fish and chips shop had a small eat-in area, and after picking up their orders at the counter, the youngsters snuggled into a corner booth amid the brawny dockworkers on their lunch break. Obviously, a petite brunette in a maid's uniform and a Chinaman dressed all in white drew a few odd stares, but it mattered little. The food was amicable, and so was the conversation.

During the course of the meal, Hilde let her eyes travel around the room, taking in the various artifacts of the shipping trade that had been used to decorate it. There were photographs of cargo ships and steam liners, dehydrated starfish, an anchor, some kind of long-bodied fish mounted on a plaque, and...

"Oh...my..." Hilde's eyes ballooned, and so did Wufei's when he finally noticed and turned to see what she was staring at. Fastened to the opposing wall, directly across from the door they came in, was a weathered old net. It was pinned up as a decoration and festooned with clam shells, a little piece of nautical ambience in an otherwise bleak environment.

Wufei turned back to the table, holding back a victorious smile. "Well...there it is."

"Yes, there it is," Hilde said quietly. "It could be the only one of those we see for the rest of the day, you know."

"It could. And if it were, shall we say, _liberated_ with due haste, we could be home in time for tea."

"We could."

They contemplated each other and the net while they finished their lunch, and seemed to be communicating a plan without uttering a single syllable. Hilde slowed up towards the end, toying with her tartar sauce as she watched the door, and within a very short while, about half a dozen dockworkers came in at once, leaving the counter mobbed and the net unguarded. She gave Wufei an intense look, and they stood.

Slowly and casually, they crept over to the wall under the ruse of admiring the samples of photography, gradually positioning themselves on either side of the net, which was suspended on a scattered handful of three-penny nails above head-level. At the height of the activity at the counter, Wufei brought a hand up close to his chest with the fingers splayed open, then tucked them in rhythmically--five, four, three, two, one. At the count of zero, they leapt up, grabbed the top edge of the net with all four hands, ripped it off the wall, did an about-face, and tore past the counter and out of the shop like their shoes were on fire.

The shop owner nearly had a heart attack. "_Oi_!!" he hollered simply, wedging his portly frame out from behind the counter to follow them. The junior thieves expected to be chased for a short while, but hadn't counted on the bulk of the clientele storming out alongside the owner to avenge the sudden desecration of their favourite feeding spot. A glut of angry working-class warriors was now pounding the planks behind them.

"Which way!?" Hilde gasped.

"Left! ...no, no, _right_!" The multiplied threat induced a bit of panic in the pair, and they scrambled around the docks, dropping clam shells like a trail of breadcrumbs.

"Get back 'ere! Stop, thief!" the owner shouted, leading the charge. The pack split up and attempted to trap the youngsters in a pincer movement, spreading out all over the riverscape they knew better than anyone else.

No matter which way Wufei and Hilde turned, there suddenly seemed to be a vigilante customer trying to block their path. They stumbled over crates, scooted around buildings, and tried the handle of every door they passed, but none would open, and the options were quickly running out. At the end of the chase, they were flushed back to the outskirts of dockland, right up against the river's edge, their pursuers betting that they would rather give up the net than take a swim. The mob began closing in around them, nudging them nearer and nearer to the water. "Awlright, 'and it over," the owner growled.

Still clutching the net with matching death grips, Hilde and Wufei traded uncertain glances. "How badly do you wanna take that steak dinner off Heero?" she asked with sudden confidence.

Wufei's gaze turned blazing red, and without any argument from his partner, he spun around and led the leap into the Thames with a spectacular double splash. The customers gaped all at once, and looked distinctly disorganized now that they weren't so keen to follow. All they could reasonably do was watch the two sneaks paddle frantically away.

Hilde regretted the choice somewhat. "This water's _freezing_!"

"You goaded me into it!" Wufei shot back.

"Where are we supposed to go!? We'll never make it to the other side!"

"Shut up and let me think!!"

The finest culinary creation known to steakdom wasn't worth a case of pneumonia, or worse, hypothermia. A serious error in judgement was staring them in the face, as well as soaking them in a chilly liquid that wouldn't improve the longer they stayed in it. A glance over his shoulder told Wufei that the angry mob had lost interest and dispersed slightly, but that didn't necessarily make it safe to reverse heading. Instead, he scanned the horizon in all directions, and found that the nearest craft was a tugboat chugging past at a distance of at least three hundred feet. He waved and hollered at the tugboat, and when the two bearded men in caps spotted the lady and gentleman overboard, they hurriedly wheeled their craft around to intercept.

What could have been a disaster ended up as a minor embarrassment. The pair were hauled up on the deck of the tugboat, certainly less clean and a lot less dry, but still latched onto their net with feverish intensity. After ascertaining that they were unharmed, the bearded sailors were quick to ask what in God's name were they playing at, for which neither Hilde nor Wufei could provide an answer. In lieu of a proper explanation, Wufei hunted around in his pockets for whatever money he still possessed after being dipped, and asked with a guilty voice, "Um...how much to take us as far as Charing Cross foot bridge?"

A persistent dripping noise was the only sound for several minutes, while the bearded men stared in disbelief.

**********  
  


"...crummy book...never gonna make it...kiss that steak dinner goodbye..." Duo grumbled up a storm, staring down at a minimally-descriptive pocket-sized gardening book while he and his teammate stalked up and down the streets, looking for a simple flower. It was even tougher than it sounded from the beginning.

The pair felt as if they had searched every flower bed and window box down every suburban street in London, but every home was already winterized, leaving nothing but shrubbery and deeply-blanketed bulbs behind. It was almost two o'clock, and while there were still plenty of hours left in the day, they knew their energy wouldn't last nearly as long. They plunked themselves down on a low rock wall to sulk at their impending defeat, which was when Duo began staring at the flower shop across the road.

"You know," Heero reminded him gently, "cheating isn't far removed from _lying_, and you _hate_ to lie..."

Duo moped. "It was just a thought...those indoor tulips are the only living blooms we've seen all day."

"I think if we brought them a greenhouse flower in a flower pot, it would be a little obvious."

They both slouched at once. Quatre's tips and a book about flowers could only get them so far when the vast majority of local specimens had been killed off by frost. Duo knew, however, that pitting Heero against Wufei in any sort of contest would keep them both occupied for weeks, if necessary. One of them had to win that very day, or nobody would hear the end of it.

While deep in thought, Duo felt a tug on his sleeve. He glanced up, and Heero was staring very attentively at something in the distance. "What's that?"

Duo followed his gaze with some difficulty, through the narrow gap between the flower shop and the haberdasher's, where a tallish red brick building could barely be seen. It looked like the back of a small apartment block, with a balcony encased in waist-high wrought iron bars. Sitting on the balcony was a little green blob in an earthenware pot, and adorning the blob were about a dozen little orange dots.

The boys looked at each other, then quickly crossed the street and darted between the shops to get a closer look. The apartment block appeared to be squatting at the end of a cul-de-sac backing onto the street full of shops. On the one particular balcony was a planter full of cheery orange flowers. Duo quickly ripped through the book until he found a page that suggested they were marigolds, but by then it hardly mattered. Their target was within reach.

The only problem was the height of the balcony, and also the few number of places where one could grab hold of something in order to climb up. "We could do it if I stood on your shoulders," Duo mused.

Heero shook his head. "First rule of espionage: Look normal. The less attention we draw, the better." He glanced to the right and spotted a fenced-in walkway that the residents used to get to the shops. "Let's check out the other side."

They followed the walkway into a sprawling expanse of row houses, town houses, and other dwellings, then promptly identified the ivy-laced doorway that most likely corresponded to the balcony. Next they discussed various methods of gaining entry, foremost of which was making use of Duo's lockpicking skills, but it was all erased when the door opened unexpectedly. A decently-dressed young lady stepped out and looked down the road as if expecting a visitor. She seemed pretty and pleasant, with ash brown hair swept up in slightly unkempt curls, a tiny upturned nose, and wide, innocent eyes. Her dress was a simple floral print befitting her lower-middle class lifestyle, and as an added bonus, she looked about Heero's age.

A horse and cart came clattering down the cul-de-sac, and stopped right in front of the girl's door. Before it even came to a complete halt, the driver hopped off, then went around to the back of his vehicle, lifted a large crate off the cart, and deposited it by the side of the road. After exchanging a few words and a polite smile with the girl, he got back into the driver's seat, turned the cart around, and sped off to make another delivery. Once he was gone, the unfortunate girl attempted to lift the crate, and found that she couldn't.

Duo and Heero smirked at each other. "Damsel in distress," the chef deduced. "Go get 'er, tiger."

Heero straightened his suit, ruffled his hair roguishly, and slapped Duo lightly in the shoulder. "Watch my back." Ever confident, he strolled over to the apartment building while Duo concealed himself behind a tree to watch the master at work. Though he was too far away to hear their conversation, the first thing Heero seemed to do was ask the girl for directions, at a distance of about six feet.

The girl was wary, but friendly, and pointed down the road and then to the left, explaining the best route to reach whatever landmark Heero had recalled from his journey. He moved a bit closer and mimicked her directions, at a distance of four feet. After she confirmed his route, he turned on the charm, scooting closer and leaning languidly against the brick facade of the building, though with his hands in his pockets, so he didn't look at all threatening. Whatever sugary compliments he was showering her with were working beautifully, as she smiled, blushed, ducked her head, and leaned one shoulder against the building just as he had, looking up coyly as Heero moved even closer and perched a hand on the doorframe just above her head.

Regardless of the fact that it was all being freely given to someone else, Duo loved watching Heero work his magic. All those charming smiles and smoky glances so rarely saw daylight that he cherished any opportunity to imagine himself in the recipient's position. Within five minutes of starting the intense sweet-treatment, the girl had utterly melted, and turned around to open the door after pointing Heero to the crate. He picked it up with ease, tossed a secret wink to his assistant behind the tree, and followed her inside.

_Doomed from the moment he laid eyes on her,_ Duo thought proudly. No sooner had the door closed, however, than the low-flying cloud hovering above the cul-de-sac decided to unburden itself of excess moisture, and it began to rain, signalling to Duo that he had somehow gotten the raw end of that particular deal. _...okay...teamwork sounded like a good idea in theory..._

Duo looked around, not too frantically since he was only wearing his brown tweed suit, but not too slowly either. There really wasn't anywhere practical to hide from the rain, but as he began wandering back towards the shops to take refuge under the florist's awning, a sight far worse than falling raindrops met his eyes. A big, burly, middle-aged, heavy-handed, brick chicken house of a man was jogging up the road, heading right for the ivy-laced door.

Duo's eyes bulged. If there was any person on the face of the earth who looked more like a big, angry father to an innocent girl in a floral dress, he didn't know who it was. Thinking only of stalling the man for Heero's safety, he dashed up to the building just before the man got his key in the lock. "Excuse me, sir!"

The man turned slowly, looking more and more like the kind of surly no-goodnik that had served at least five years in prison for some thuggish atrocity. "Whut?" he growled in a menacing bass tone.

"Um..." Duo only then noticed the butcher's apron tied around the brute's thick waist, well-splattered with some unfortunate animal's entrails. That meant he knew where to hide the body. "Have you...have you ever given any thought to the afterlife?" Duo had. Quite recently, in fact.

The brute was not amused. "_Whut_?"

"What I mean is, uh...if you died tomorrow, are you absolutely sure you know where you'd be?"

"You tryin' to be funny!?"

Duo swallowed. While he searched for an answer that wouldn't result in a massive head injury, a girl's voice giggled from somewhere inside the house, accompanied by a loud clunk, loud enough to permeate through wood, glass, and six inches of brick. The gruff man's eyes were engulfed in flames, and Duo took a substantial risk by stepping in front of him. "In that case, have you ever given any thought to life insurance?"

The brute growled and shoved Duo out of the way, sending him down with a splash against the puddled pavement, and stormed through the door, slamming and locking it before Duo was even back on his feet. Panicking, Duo ran around to the back of the building and dragged his jacket sleeve over his eyes, trying to daub away the raindrops. From inside the apartment came a terrible noise, a mixture of shouts, clunks, crashes and squeals, as a three-person collision occurred on the second floor. Heavy sounds akin to objects being hurled at walls preceded the flinging open of the balcony door. Heero dashed out, followed by the angrily-waving fists of the girl's father, whose meaty arm was being tugged on by the girl herself. As the man took a parting swing at Heero, the boy somehow managed to leap over the iron bars with one hand while grabbing at something near the balcony floor with the other, all while being pelted with terrible obscenities that would have made a sailor blush.

Duo ran up to the patch of wilted grass where Heero was about to make contact, with the foolish notion of breaking his fall, and the two of them smacked into one another quite ungracefully, mutually clobbered into a broken heap. They shook off some minor dizziness and scrambled to their feet only seconds before the brute threw an empty flower pot at them. The escape was made without injury, but only just.

Sprinting through the rain, they didn't stop running until they reached a spacious but empty park, and wordlessly took shelter under the canopy of a combination gazebo and bandstand. There, they sat on the wood plank floor, panting for breath, and Duo wrung out his braid while he let Heero have it for taking so darn long to escape. "What were you _doing_ in there!?"

"Trying to get out!" Heero insisted desperately as he checked the mobility of his left wrist. "She's got a grip like a ten-foot python!"

Duo also noticed a mark on Heero's neck, just above his collar, and pointed at it curiously. "And what's that?"

Heero prodded his neck right where the reddish oval was, and winced. "I think there's a reason why her father doesn't let her out much."

"She _bit you_!?"

"Only after she tried to tie me up with a pajama cord."

Despite the lingering horror, the could both see the humour in the situation, and started chuckling, but Duo's eyes soon went wide. "Hey, what about the flower?"

Heero lifted his clenched right hand and stiffly opened it. Inside was the crumpled prize that he had snatched at the last possible moment before sailing off the balcony--a green sprig of marigold, with four frond leaves and two orange blooms, freshly picked. The boys each slung an arm around each other and laughed again, their mission complete.

**********  
  


Duo had been more than happy to tell Trowa and Quatre everything they never wanted to know about tuberous vegetables, but sadly, the information got them no closer to finding what they needed. For some odd reason, not one of the green grocers they visited had a single butternut squash for sale. They were all terribly apologetic and tried to make up for the shortcoming with a cauliflower or some nice mushrooms, but they were hardly sufficient. Things looked awfully grim.

Then came a lightning bolt of inspiration. They spotted a notice in a post office window advertising a week-long county fair and harvest festival not too far out of town. Among the delights listed were pony rides, a carnival, arts and crafts, a horse show, and prizes for locally-grown garden products. Being of a fairly spiritual nature, Quatre took it as a sign, and soon convinced his partner that if they couldn't find the sacred squash called butternut within the city, it was very prudent to search without. With less than an hour of daylight left, they boarded the next available train to nowhere.

Upon their arrival, the first order of business was dinner, and while they munched on stew and pastries under the food tent, a small crew began lighting lanterns all around the festival grounds. It was a pleasant atmosphere at the fair; families of all ages and descriptions were playing games, buying and selling country wares, and hovering around a gigantic prize-winning pumpkin placed in the middle of it all as a kind of centrepiece. "This is nice," Quatre remarked. "Have you ever been to one of these before?"

"Just a couple, after I emigrated," Trowa said, nodding. "This one's pretty late in the season, though...probably the last before winter."

"So...if I were a butternut squash, and I was hiding in a harvest festival, where would I be?"

Trowa scanned the landscape under the slate blue sky. The sun was already below the horizon, and time was short. "Looks like there's some displays over there," he said, gesturing towards a far-off tent lined on the inside with dozens of tiny electric lights. "They give out ribbons for all sorts of things...fruits, vegetables, pies, quilts, homemade preserves..."

That gave Quatre a terrible pang of guilt, as he was struck by a thought that neither of them had considered yet. "Trowa...what are we supposed to do with the squash once we find it? If there _is_ one, it'll be a project that someone's been pouring their heart and soul into for _weeks_. I know I wouldn't be too happy if some hooligan made off with one my best geraniums..."

Trowa frowned and hummed in thought. "Well, maybe we'll go after the one that didn't even win last place. The owner would be glad to see the back of it."

"But still, you can't just walk up and steal a vegetable! People will see! They'll tell the organizers, the organizers will tell the police, and we'll be fugitives!"

"...fugitives over a _squash_?"

Quatre gave him a heavy-lidded 'Don't mock my opinions' look. "It's still stealing."

"You go ask Heero what it's like to be a spy," Trowa told him pointedly. "Sometimes you _have_ to steal. Sometimes you have to lie and cheat and do things you wouldn't ordinarily do because you're focused on a bigger picture. That's what this exercise is all about." He picked away at his pastry, trying to convince himself of those very words. "Maybe it'll be sitting way at the end of the tent where no one's looking."

Quatre sighed.

Immediately after dinner, they went into the big white tent and had a good, long look around. It seemed larger on the inside than it did on the outside, and also seemed to be packed with at least half of the total people in attendance. There was a great deal more to observe than pies and quilts as well. Ribbons of blue, red, and yellow had been awarded to potted plants, iced cakes, amateur wines, cross stitchery, floral arrangements, paintings, and woodcrafts, to merely name a few. A large portion of the tent was reserved for garden products, and sure enough, among the myriad of different varieties of vegetables cultivated from specimens worldwide sat three examples of butternut squash--right in the middle where everyone could see them.

The spectators were still filing through the tent rather thickly, so the odds of being caught in the act were high. "Let's wander around and come back, see if the crowd thins out a little," Trowa whispered. Quatre silently agreed, and they left the tent to explore the rest of the fair in greater detail.

Not surprisingly, Trowa's inherent love of animals nudged them towards the stables, where the livestock resided for the week. Row upon row of light and heavy horses, beef and dairy cattle, sheep, goats, rabbits and poultry greeted them, and it felt, to Quatre at least, like Trowa just _had_ to stop and pet each and every one. It was getting tedious.

Eventually, they worked their way up to a row of Holstein cows, each in their own wooden stall, and each chained by the neck to a long horizontal bar that stretched across the tops of the stalls, purely for security purposes. Quatre watched the way Trowa fawned over the animals, giving them each a little scratch on the head and telling them what good girls they were, and found himself smiling. "Do you ever think about what you'd like to do if you ever leave Bridlewood?"

Trowa hardly had to think at all. "Veterinary medicine. Not that it's all that likely, with my education. Ten or so years as a cabin boy doesn't exactly qualify me for university."

Quatre leaned against the door of a stall with his hands in his pockets, swallowing. "What about family?"

"What about it?"

"Would you ever get married?"

Trowa looked up and shrugged. "Haven't thought much about it."

"But you...aren't strictly opposed to...maybe...falling in love?"

There was something very strange about the way Quatre asked that last question. He looked away while he said it. His voice grew weak, and trembled. Overall, he seemed terribly nervous, but why? Trowa regarded him curiously, staring intently until Quatre was forced to look up, and when he did, he looked away again just as quickly, turning a bright cherry red. Trowa didn't realize just how shocked he was until it was too late.

The unsuspecting Holstein currently being petted by the boy was suddenly hit with a wave of confusion and panic, one so strong that it erased all thoughts of munching hay and watching the two-leggers go by. The panic filled the animal's consciousness, and somehow jumped to the next one, and the next one, until the entire row of cows was stricken with Trowa's displaced feelings of flustered shock. A wild and multi-voiced 'moo' erupted, and the wide-eyed bovines stamped their hooves and battered against the flimsy stall doors, making the boys jump back in fright.

The thundering noise alerted those in charge of the stables that something was terribly wrong, but by the time they got there, what happened was inevitable. All the cows surged up at once, broke through their stalls and clomped out at top speed, still connected by the long iron bar. Trowa, Quatre, and everyone else in the immediate area ducked for cover as the stampede roared by in a flurry of moos, busting right through the barn doors and heading for the festival's core. Amid the terrified screams of the populous were ugly crunching noises as the confused cows trampled everything in their path.

The boys leapt up and ran to what was left of the stable doors, just in time to watch the stampede run through the displays tent. They entered at one end, made a terrible ruckus that shook the tent itself, and exited at the other end, chasing dozens of pudgy townswomen in gingham frocks and flowered hats, carrying great armloads of pies, tarts and knitted things in a desperate rescue attempt. The cows tailed the women all the way to the other end of the field where they were finally stopped by the giant pumpkin, unable to decide with one mind whether to go around it or through it. While a mob of farmers descended on the giant tandem team and wrestled them into a calmer, more manageable state, Trowa and Quatre slowly looked at each other with doe-eyed guilt, after which Trowa stared at the big white tent and sighed.

"Let's grab our squash and get the heck out of here."

They crept into the tent, picked up the blue ribbon butternut, which was the only one of the three still intact after the rampage, and slipped quietly off the property before they caused any more riots.

**********  
  


At the end of the day, when all the teams regrouped at Bridlewood, they had to declare a three-way tie, and while the fantastic stories were being traded, Heero came up with the very excellent suggestion that they _all_ go out to dinner, funded by the dividends from their current investments. The motion was carried unanimously, and off they went.

Later that night, they pulled back up to the house in a large, showy carriage, still chatting broadly about the days' events and wondering what the newspapers would say about their exploits the next day. The carriage driver wasn't able to pull up right in front of the house, however, because another carriage was already there. The teens clambered out and one by one noticed the strange vehicle. Stranger still, the housemaids were standing at the open door with a diminishing pile of luggage, and the driver and footman of the first carriage were piling the luggage inside and on top. They didn't seem to be carrying any passengers, just chattels.

Heero led the group up the front walk and glared questioningly at the truculent trio. "What's all this?"

"Miss Dorothy, sir," Elsie said with her special brand of lower-class indifference. "She's sent this lot 'round for her things. Says she's movin' out."

They all wondered what it meant, Quatre in particular, though it wasn't much of a surprise to anyone. The Baroness had spent so little time at the manor recently that it seemed as though she had moved out long ago. "Where's she gone?" Quatre asked in a suspicious voice.

"Don't know," Elsie answered. "She din't say, an' we din't ask. Good riddance, I say."

Bethany sneered in agreement. "Yeah, she's done nuthin' but moan since the day she set foot. I won't miss 'er."

While they discussed it, the two men loaded up the last few bags, snapped the reins and were off in a shot, and the housemaids retreated inside where it was still warm. "Should we follow them and see where they drop it all off?" Duo wondered.

Heero shook his head tiredly. "We've done enough for today. Let's just leave it."

Another motion was unanimously carried, as the team voted to lock up the house for the night and warm themselves up with some hot cocoa. Considering her reputation for dragging her feet on everything important, whatever Dorothy was up to would most likely keep another day.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


_Next, in Episode Sixty-Six: After a run-in with a rival agent on a mission to pester Treize, Heero enlists outside help to pinpoint the boy's base of operations._

...and finally, DON'T TRY THIS AT HOME! =P Don't jump into freezing water, don't steal squashes, and don't make cows go insane. Words to live by. Dinner's cooking (Ahhh, mac an' cheese, fruit of the gods) so I won't keep you overtime. Just mark down Saturday the 23rd for the next eppy. Baibai! =^_^=


	66. Twisted Mirror

**Disclaimer:** ...what? You think I have time to write a new disclaimer every week? Do you have any idea how busy I am!? =P Fuggedaboudit.

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Sixty-Six: Twisted Mirror

_"The truly proud man knows neither superiors nor inferiors. The first he does not admit of, the last he does not concern himself about." ~William Hazlitt _

November 23rd, 1902

Down in his shared cellar bedchamber, Trowa sat propped up against the wall, slouched and pouting with all his might. With a slow, steady rhythm, he threw an object at the opposing wall, a palm-sized ball of dull red leather, a souvenir from his cricketing days. Over and over, he flung the ball and caught it again as it bounced back to him. He was essentially hiding, from many strange ideas and from one blond gardener.

The two of them hadn't spoken much about the Holstein incident at the fair. Trowa was suddenly struggling with a lot of confusing feelings, but somehow didn't feel as though he could talk about them with the one person who needed his reassurance the most.

_I wish I knew what to tell him. He didn't really ask me what he meant to ask, but he deserves an answer anyway...before he gets too caught up in this game of hide-and-seek. Before we both do._

On one hand, he could easily see how he and Quatre might be drawn to one another. They had a faithful friendship, backed by shared interests, unearthly powers, and a pledge to protect Quatre from the dangerous factions in his own family. Trowa just worried, after seeing the way Quatre looked at him in the stables, that they might have interpreted that friendship differently.

Out of a sliver of the window, he saw the back of Quatre's winter coat and a woolly hat plodding away from the house, probably on a path to Arthur's cottage. Now Trowa considered it safe to crawl out to the kitchen for his breakfast, like the despicable worm he was. Tossing the cricket ball aside, he skulked out towards the faint voices he had heard all morning. When he arrived, Heero and Hilde were lounging at the kitchen table, Duo was whipping up a fresh batch of scrambled eggs and bacon, and Shadow was curled up on the table, well away from the food, apparently napping.

"I don't know what you're complaining about, this is fun!" Hilde was saying.

"Sure, it's fun for _you_, 'cause _you're_ just watching!" Duo replied forcefully. "_I'm_ the one being grilled!" Heero didn't join the scuffle, he just sat there looking smug.

"What's going on?" Trowa asked.

"It's Duo's lesson time," Hilde explained. "Heero refuses to communicate in English, so Duo has to practice his Japanese if he ever wants to get through to him."

Intrigued, Trowa perked up an eyebrow and folded his arms, settling in to watch the strange spectacle. Heero was still awaiting the delivery of his meal, and while Duo left the bacon to drain on a wire rack, he picked up both the tea kettle and the coffee pot, took them over to the kitchen table, and carefully attempted to ask Heero which he preferred. "Dotchi ga...suki desu ka?"

Approving of Duo's grammar and diction, Heero shrugged and left the choice up to him. "Dotchi demo kamaimasen."

Relieved, Duo arbitrarily chose coffee and poured some out for him. Heero's approval meant so much to him that he dreaded making a mistake, even in practice, and habitually took a little extra time to get the words just right. "I tell ya, you won't find a tougher teacher than that guy right there."

Trowa stuck his hands in his pockets and looked jokingly disappointed. "Gee, I didn't know there was no English allowed today. I was going to ask him where we keep the dustrags, since you can write your name on the chest of drawers in our room."

Heero looked up at Trowa right away. "First floor linen cupboard, second shelf from the bottom, right hand side."

Duo perched his hands on his hips and scowled, acting insulted. "Oh, that's just charming! Why can't I have a time-out like that?"

"Because Trowa's not taking any lessons, is he?" Hilde stated firmly.

"Well, that's not fair!" Duo leaned across the table to glare at Heero, narrowing missing the butter with his braid. "I think everybody else should suffer alongside me! If I can't talk to you in English, then neither can they!"

Heero looked blankly at Duo, then turned one ear towards him an inch. "Nani?"

The others chuckled as Duo pretended to sneer at the rebuff. Duo complained every chance he got, but he and Heero both knew the other enjoyed it completely, and a little sarcasm displayed by either side was all part of the fun. Everyone could see it.

"Did you order your breakfast in Japanese too?" Trowa asked as Duo brought over platefuls of eggs, sausage, toast, bacon, and dollops of strawberry jam.

Heero shook his head. "Couldn't. We don't have words for every item on the typical English menu."

"Hey, you should be grateful for what you get. There's some _really_ disgusting things on the menu that I haven't even _attempted_," Duo pointed out, slathering jam on his toast. "Do you know what they put in black pudding? I know, and I wish I didn't."

Again, Heero looked bewildered and leaned forward a bit. "Nani?"

Duo huffed out a sigh as his knife stopped moving. "Aw, for cryin' out loud! I _can't_ talk properly about it if you haven't got a word for it! You said so yourself!"

Heero blinked and shook his head again. "Wakaranai."

Duo stuck his tongue out and went on with his meal.

Grateful as always to be well fed, Trowa dug into his breakfast with gusto, and ended up chewing and talking at the same time. "So what's on the agenda today?"

Hilde wolfed down the rest of her eggs quickly before answering. "Well, Lucrezia's been going to these society lunches lately, y'know, putting her ear to the ground and stuff, and she heard from these old biddies in some civic service club that a girl matching Dorothy's description moved into Lady Une's house last week."

Continuing the pattern that had existed before Trowa even got there, Heero overlaid a second conversation on top of the first, solely for Duo's benefit. "Ima nanji desu ka?"

Duo stopped eating to devote all of his brainpower to the question, then looked up at the pendulum clock above the coat rack. "Kuji...jippun sugi desu."

"Ii desu," Heero praised for the correct answer. It was ten past nine.

"How come I never heard about that?" Trowa wondered out loud.

"We tried to find you to tell you," Hilde said, "and Quatre too, but you both disappeared. Anyway, the secret's out, and now we have to figure out why she didn't tell anyone. She's supposed to be running errands for _us_, after all."

"Otenki-wa dou desu-ka?" said Heero-sensei.

Duo looked over his shoulder and saw through the window that it was lightly snowing. He relayed the information at once. "Yuki-ga futte imasu."

"Ii desu."

"Fine thing expecting her to leak information to Treize about Hassan, but we've already given her everything we had," Trowa complained.

Hilde shrugged with her eyebrows. "We'll just have to come up with something, I guess."

Suddenly, someone came in through the back door, shaking off the snow and taking off his hat. It was Quatre, and as soon as he looked up and saw Trowa, they both went slightly red. Nevertheless, the gardener lifted his head proudly and carried on as if nothing was wrong. "What are we all talking about?" he chirped.

"Nannin imasu ka?" Heero asked, gesturing around the room with his fork.

Quatre stood there and blinked, frozen halfway out of his coat. "...okaaay..."

"It's alright, he's talking to me," Duo told him offhandedly. He then counted up the number of boys and girls in the room, as per his teacher's request, and prepared a verbal report. "Onnanoko ga hitori...to otonoko ga.....umm...oh, shoot. Four. What's the word for four?" He sank his head into one hand and fiercely knit his brow, struggling for the answer.

Quatre hung up his coat and chuckled at Duo's desperation, finally recognizing another one of their language lessons. "What's the penalty if you get it wrong?"

"I think he should get a spanking," Hilde muttered quietly through a constrained smile.

"I have to live with the shame until I can make it up in the next lesson!" Duo tried and tried, but couldn't find the word he was looking for anywhere in his brain. He sighed and shook his head in frustration. "I can't remember."

"...nani?"

"_Rrrgh_!" Duo wrapped his braid around his neck and comically tried to strangle himself with it, eliciting more than enough laughter from the others to cover up his melodramatic gagging noises. "I forgot! I forgot! Washuremashita!" he finally insisted with his hands in the air.

Smiling, Heero scolded him a bit for his forgetfulness. "Wasuremono o shite wa ikemasen."

Duo narrowed his eyes. "You can be _such_ a pain."

Heero propped up his chin in one hand, staring at Duo with a strange but pleasantly wistful gaze. "Kirei-na hitomi-dane," he purred lightly. While Duo looked at the ceiling, mutely repeating those words to himself and trying to decipher them, Heero finished off his coffee and turned to Quatre. "We know where Dorothy is, we just don't have any more information to give her."

"If I could get a message to the rest of my family, provided there's anyone back home who'd still be loyal to me, we might have something," Quatre mused.

Duo was still attempting to piece together what Heero had said to him, and Heero smirked a bit as he rose and took his breakfast dishes over to the washbasin. "Today I might go through Giorgenson's files again, in case there's anything we missed. In fact, since there's nothing else on, I might go now so I can be back for lunch." He walked back to his original side of the table and bowed to his student, bringing an end to the lesson. "Soredewa oitoma itashimashou."

Duo got up and bowed as well, then straightened back up, licked his lips, and prepared to deliver a response that he had been working on for days. He struggled through it hesitantly, his hands suspended in mid-air and his eyes continually flitting up to the ceiling in thought. "Anata-to...shaburu-ga...dekite ureshii desu!" He grinned proudly at the end.

Heero absorbed the badly-formed sentence for half a second, then suddenly burst out laughing and couldn't stop. While the rest of them all gaped at the paranormal sound, he collapsed back into his chair, hyperventilating with glee.

Although a part of Duo was thrilled to see Heero so happy, the rest of him was absolutely mortified. "What'd I say!? What'd I say!?"

"Whatever you meant to say, I don't think you quite said it," Trowa guessed, regarding Heero with a bizarre kind of clinical fascination. Even Shadow looked up from her nap, it was that much of an occasion.

"I was _trying_ to say, 'It was nice chatting with you!'" Duo gulped frantically, turning redder than his homemade tomato sauce. "Heero, come _on_! Tell me what I said!"

Heero covered his mouth with one hand and shook his head, unable to see for the excess water in his eyes. He could practically count the instances in his life when he had laughed so hard on one hand, and his sides hurt so badly that he could hardly sit up. Finally, struggling just to draw breath, he forced himself to stand up and choke out a few words. "I th-think...that's all...the lesson time we have for...t-today."

"Heero, I'm _serious_! I wanna know what I said wrong!" Duo's pleas and commands were ignored as Heero made a hasty retreat up the stairs, causing Duo to stand at the bottom of the stairwell, shouting angrily upwards. "_You brat_! Get back here!!"

"Give it up, Duo, he's long gone," said Hilde, smirking and patting his nearest arm.

Duo turned away from the stairs and appeared lost. "I'm not gonna be able to concentrate for the whole rest of the day, now."

They all had a good-hearted giggle at Duo's expense, and he soon joined them, until Bethany came shooting down the stairs with the morning mail, looking like she had just seen something that couldn't be explained as anything other than demon possession. "Who died?" she asked fearfully, jerking a thumb over her shoulder at the stairwell.

"Don't be mean!" Quatre scolded. "Heero's just as entitled to the occasional belly laugh as the rest of us. It's perfectly normal."

"Hmmm...matt'r of opinion," Bethany murmured. "Post's 'ere, anyway."

Duo went from sullen to lively and approached her with hopeful eyes. "Tegami ga ari--uh...I mean, uh...any mail for me?"

Bethany gave him the same deranged look she gave Heero as they passed each other on the stairs, and mechanically swung out an arm with a letter clutched at the end of it. Duo happily snatched the letter, having been kept waiting for it for what felt like an eternity, and skittered into a corner to read it in semi-seclusion. The others made fairly bland conversation while Bethany was still there, and waited until she was gone before getting back on topic.

"So what do we tell Dorothy next time we see her?" Hilde wondered.

Quatre looked between her and Trowa, then shrugged uncomfortably. "We'll just have to wait and see if Heero can come up with anything, for now."

After slurping down the last few drops of her grapefruit juice, Hilde stood, smacked her lips, and brushed her hands together. "Well, it's early yet...think I'll go have a nice leisurely soak and do my nails." She fluttered away, humming luxuriantly, and suddenly Quatre and Trowa found themselves pretty much alone, and staring uneasily at each other.

Eventually, Quatre dragged his eyes away and looked over at Duo, who was thoroughly immersed in his letter. "Um...s-so, uh...you're going to the pub with Heero this afternoon?" he asked, desperate for a distraction.

It took Duo ages to look up, and when he did, his eyes were vacant and haunted. "Huh?" His brain caught up with his ears just in time, saving Quatre the trouble of asking the question again. "Oh...no, I don't think so," he muttered blandly, glancing up at the clock, then back down at the petal-pink pages he held. "Actually...there's something else I oughta do today...by myself. Tell him to go on without me, okay?"

Trowa and Quatre watched with worried eyes as Duo plodded hastily up the stairs with his head drooping and his braid dragging lifelessly along behind him, but couldn't think of anything to say. Once again terrified at the prospect of being left along together with a million and one things not to talk about, the boys panicked, and sat blank-faced on either side of the table, unable to devise a graceful exit. Shadow lifted her head to look around, and the boys both leapt on her at once, petting her, praising her, and playing games with her for as long as it took until someone else wandered into the kitchen and broke the tension between them. Shadow was pleased with the sudden surplus of attention, but she couldn't have known that it was just the two-leggers' ploy to avoid starting a conversation they didn't know how to finish.

**********  
  


Heero never once questioned where Duo was swanning off to, or why, but it did mean that he more or less needed another partner for what he had planned. Whether he found any information in Giorgenson's archives to feed Dorothy or not, he wanted to confirm with his own eyes that she had actually moved in with Treize and Lady Une. As it turned out, there was no new information buried in the archives, so it was off to the lavish west end estate with his willing volunteer, Lucrezia.

"How do we want to handle this?" she asked as they strolled down the street, bundled up in their winter coats. "Are we just going to walk up and ring the doorbell?"

"I think I was counting on a flash of inspiration to tell me the best way to proceed," said Heero. "The back yard is poorly guarded, and from there we might be able to see clear into some of the back rooms."

Lucrezia thought that was as good a plan as any, and let her mind wander while they made their way closer to the estate. She thought about Milliardo for the hundredth time, but instead of lingering on him, her attention drifted unexpectedly to land on Heero. He was a few inches taller than the day they first met, but somehow she hadn't noticed it before. His frame was gradually losing some of its boyish quality, and his features were the tiniest bit more angular. Time and fate were transforming him from an abused child into a young man of many passions, just now learning to strain against their iron tethers. While he still didn't quite match her in height, Lucrezia found herself echoing the old thought that if Heero had been just a few years older, and if Milliardo had never returned from the war, her desires might have led her down a completely different road. Naturally, she felt a little guilty, but her lingering fixation on the boy was only due to the fact that he and Milliardo were more alike than they would ever know. Even at that moment, she felt his pull on her, but she told herself yet again that it was all in her mind. "Lady Une's seen so little of me, she might not recognize me at all if I went up to the door and asked for Dorothy," she commented, endeavouring to distract herself.

"We'll keep that option open in reserve, in case we--" The next few words hit an impassible road block in Heero's throat as he spotted something down the road that set off dozens of mental alarms. It was a fair-haired, round-headed boy about his age, crossing the street and heading for Une's estate. It was the boy who sat next to Jeffrhyss as guard and escort the day of the coronation. It was an agent.

The blond boy hadn't seen Heero yet, but would surely recognize him if he did, so without thinking, Heero grabbed Lucrezia by both arms and flung himself behind a convenient hedge, taking her down with a surprised yelp. Landing flat on her back in a half-inch of snow with Heero splayed flat on top of her did nothing constructive for Lucrezia's state of mind, and she suddenly needed another distraction. As his instincts let go and his intellect took over, Heero realized his rather uncouth error and cringed. His reflexes apparently forgot that it wasn't Duo walking beside him. "Sorry," he whispered, rolling into a crouch and slowly peeping overtop of the hedge.

Lucrezia needed a few deep breaths to collect herself, but managed to sit up and crouch beside him. "What is it?"

"See him?"

At Heero's indication, she peeked over the hedge as well, and saw a young man in a dark suit with a straw hat and leather attaché walking up and knocking firmly on Lady Une's door. He was a good fifty yards away, at least, and didn't appear to have noticed anyone taking a nosedive behind the shrubbery separating Une's property from the next. "The one with the case? Who is he?"

Heero hesitated, working his jaw in contempt. "He belongs to Lord Jeffrhyss, like I did. We've crossed paths once or twice, but only in training...never in the field, unsupervised. His name is Byron."

"Byron who?"

"That's just his alias. I don't know his real name, or if he even has one anymore."

"What's he doing here?"

"Probably carrying out the reconnaissance mission on Treize...since the position's been vacant for some time."

They were much too far away to hear what was being said, but the door definitely opened, for the blond boy swept off his hat and threw a charming smile at whoever was inside. "Good afternoon, sir! Is the lady of the house at home?"

Just inside the door, Une's snooty butler regarded the boy with his usual distaste, then showed him into the foyer and vanished. Byron adjusted one of his cufflinks while he waited, and was still broadly smiling when a classy brunette in a burgundy dress emerged. "Can I help you?" she purred haughtily.

"You already have, looking so ravishing at this hour of the day," Byron complimented her, "but what I can help _you_ with is even more exciting." He swung his attaché case up to sit flat nested in both hands, clicked open the locks, and the lid sprang open, revealing a molded velvet interior cradling a modest selection of sparkling goblets and candlesticks. "The finest in genuine Dresden mercury glass, available at a premium price to _very_ select customers!"

Une rolled her eyes slightly. It was up to her butler to turn away any and all door-to-door salesmen, but somehow this one slipped through the net. "Oh, really," she scoffed. "Silvered glass is for peasants. I won't even _touch_ anything less than sterling!"

"Ah, but _these_ are artisan originals," Byron continued, "hand-signed and dated more than thirty years ago, and destined to become collectible antiques! Real masterpieces!"

"What's going on out there!?" a man's booming baritone shouted from an inner hall of the house. An irate Treize, wondering where his lady fair had been dragged off to in the middle of their lunch, came clomping into the marble-tiled front hall, slapping a folded newspaper against his palm. When he caught sight of the fair-haired salesman, however, he froze.

Byron spied Treize and immediately smiled even wider than before. "Why, hello there! We simply _must_ stop meeting like this!"

Une turned and glared accusingly at her husband-to-be, with one hand on her hip and the other tracing a line of pearls around her throat. "What does he mean? Do you _know_ this person?"

Treize fixed an icy, suspicious stare on the boy. It was the same young fellow who cleverly talked his way into sharing a carriage ride from Southampton to Relena's country estate. His presence in London couldn't possibly have been a coincidence. "No. I don't know him."

"Oh, surely you remember," Byron said snidely, closing his case full of silvered glass. "We were on the train to Southampton together, and then in that carriage to--"

"Just because I have frittered away time in the same enclosed space as you does not mean to say that I _know_ you. Now, will you kindly _vacate_ these premises, and take your worthless trinkets with you."

Treize was trying to distract Une from noticing one detail in particular from the lad's short speech, but it was too late. She scowled at him. "You went to see her, didn't you? You went to visit your simpering niece in the country after you _promised_ not to!"

Byron pretended to look bashfully repentant. "Oh dear, I've dropped you _right_ in it, haven't I? I'd better go."

"I'll see you out," Treize spat, stalking forward and taking a firm hold of the boy's arm. He dragged him to the door, causing him to drop the straw hat that he had tucked under his arm during his brief product demonstration. Once the intruder was safely out on the doorstep, Treize leaned down, picked up the hat, and shoved it into the centre of the boy's chest, pushing him backwards almost a foot. Then, he stepped back and slammed the door. That much of the scene, Heero and Lucrezia saw quite clearly from behind the hedge. Byron seemed unfazed, and even amused by the event, and was smirking all the way back down the front walk as he sauntered off in the opposite direction, his mission well underway.

Heero looked at Lucrezia, made a swift and angular beckoning motion with one hand, and she nodded in response. They slowly rose from their hiding place and proceeded to tail Byron for the next twenty minutes, up one street and down the next, until he finally stopped at a continental-style café.

The pursuers paused outside while Heero decided what to do next. Dorothy was put on the back burner, as he had something more urgent cooking in his mental kitchen. "As soon as we get inside," he said in a low voice, "get far enough away so that it won't look as if we're together, but not so far that you can't see me."

"I think I saw him move to the left, so I'll go right," Lucrezia confirmed.

"After you, then."

Lucrezia crossed the cobbled street to the café, and Heero followed a discreet distance behind. As soon as she was through the door, she calmly wandered to the right and sat down at an empty table for two, but not before gaping at the opulence of the place. It looked as though it had been imported in one piece straight from Monte Carlo, with gilded ornamentation on the rich red papered walls, a thick patterned carpet under every table, cloth napkins, tall candles, real silver on every surface, and enough room to swing a cat between the chairs. It looked so ordinary from the outside, but the snobbish, reclusive patrons probably liked it that way, because it discouraged newcomers. When she was given a fine embossed menu in hand-drawn calligraphy, she also gaped at the prices.

When Heero walked in, the eye-searing excess hardly made him flinch, and he went straight for his target, who was sitting comfortably and languidly in his private booth, looking over the lunch menu in a very relaxed way. A rival agent, even in such a public setting, presented a clear danger to Heero's safety, now that he was off the force, but he had a specific gamble in mind, one he felt could pay off in spades if done correctly. Heero walked right up to the booth, and stopped.

"Just the tiramisu, Gustav," the blond boy sighed contentedly without looking up. "...and maybe a liqueur chocolate or two to follow."

Heero waited for a moment, then took the menu out of Byron's hand and slapped it casually down on the table, staring down at him the entire time.

Byron looked up and greeted Heero with a serpentine smile. "Well, now! You're not Gustav! I thought something was wrong when I didn't smell his ghastly aftershave..." He watched as Heero took a seat opposite him in the booth, then beckoned over one of the waiters on duty. "A red wine for me...and a whiskey, neat, for my friend, here," he said, pointing a neighbourly hand to his comrade until the waiter grovelled off. "That _is_ your poison of choice, isn't it?"

It had been, many moons ago, but Heero was well over that phase. He folded his arms and glared. "So you've been studying me," he stated.

"No, not personally," Byron chuckled. "I've got better things to do...but remember, the Master sees all and knows all. He knoweth of thy going out and thy coming in," he misquoted carelessly, referring to Jeffrhyss. The drinks arrived quickly, and he took a sip of his wine immediately. "My God, he could know how many times you scratch yourself in a day if he wanted to."

Heero stared down at the whiskey glass that had been set before him, then looked up at Byron again. "Why are you here?"

"Isn't it obvious? I've been given your job." Byron swirled the wine around in his glass and swallowed another gulp. "Someone has to watch Treize, so it might as well be me. I'm the right age, the right type, and I have many of your abilities with the added bonus of being trustworthy."

"I've been a part of this organization more than twice as long as you," Heero scoffed.

"Ah yes, but _I_ haven't mutinied lately, nor have I been divulging precious information to civilians. What's that boy's name? The one you've been training to fight? Maxwell, isn't it?"

"And what if I have?"

Byron leaned forward, putting on his spiteful face and holding up his thumb and forefinger a half-inch apart. "Do you know you're just _that_ close to being declared a berserker? The only reason you haven't been reacquired and executed is because His Lordship is clinging to the fantasy that you can be rehabilitated. Even so, if you commit the _faintest_ act of treason, you can still be hauled in by your toenails and thrown in the pit...and we all know what _that_ means." He sat back and smirked, swirling the last of his wine.

Heero knew he had the advantage in mental discipline, and reasoned that if he kept Byron talking long enough, he might inadvertently let something slip, something that would help hatch the budding idea in Heero's subconscious. "You don't have to stay with them, you know. You don't have to limit yourself to the existence Jeffrhyss chose for you. I got out, and I could help you to do the same."

Byron snorted. "You think I need _rescuing_? I'm not like the rest of you drones who were force-fed all that weak-minded tripe about harmony and peace! That's all just a smokescreen to trick agents into thinking they're fighting for the greater good! Well, let me tell you something, chum...'good' is relative. The only thing that _really_ counts is being on the winning team, so you can whimper and cry all you want about living for yourself instead of the cause...I'm exactly where I want to be."

While Byron drained his glass and held it up, silently asking for another, Heero weighed his words carefully. Part of what he said was true, specifically the part about Jeffrhyss' five-line creed being a complete load of twaddle. It was hammered into every member of the organization that each of them could achieve peace through total obedience, and Heero had fallen for it once. Byron, however, didn't even need to be brainwashed, for he had a natural bloodlust and overactive ego that would make him obedient to Jeffrhyss regardless of the man's motives. "Still, you're more than intelligent enough to make an honest living elsewhere," Heero said, goading him.

"Honest living?" Byron laughed. "I can't think of a single advantage to that, compared with what I've got now. I'm one of the top-rated agents, since _you_ left. My salary is _scandalous_. I could eat here three meals a day if I wanted. With the bonus for completing my last mission, I'll be able to make a down payment on a nice villa overlooking the Riviera for my eventual retirement, and in the meantime, I can _really_ live it up in my off-hours. Operas, cruises, parties all night long..." The arrival of his second helping of wine caused a brief but welcome pause in the tirade, during which he guzzled another mouthful. "And women. Mustn't forget women. You know, you're awfully tense for your age, Heero. You should go downtown tonight, find yourself a nice, firm wench who can teach you how to relax. Be careful picking out girls down by the docks, though...some of them are diseased."

Suddenly nauseous, Heero wrinkled his nose in disgust, then picked up the untouched shot of fine imported bourbon and downed it in one gulp, hoping Duo would understand when he came home smelling of alcohol. It was strangely logical, since Byron paid for the drink, that he should also make it necessary. "Sounds like you expend more energy pleasing yourself than His Lordship."

"Listen, I worked _hard_ during my last assignment, so I deserve a plum little job like Treize-spotting, and I _do_ have some useful things to do when I'm not working. Unlike _some_ people I could mention, I spend time bettering myself instead of squandering my training on pathetic, long-haired gutter dogs who should have been picked up by the garbage collectors _years_ ago. That's why, in a very short while, you'll have to buy your own drinks, because I've got classes to attend this afternoon."

"I won't keep you then," Heero said, unable to eradicate every last trace of indignant scorn from his voice. He stood up and left the booth just in time, seconds before he would have reached across the table and throttled the putrid little whelp for insulting Duo.

The café had filled up a bit, making it easier for Heero to hide within the crowd while he searched the other half of the room for Lucrezia. He caught sight of her frantically-waving hand and scooted over to her table, making sure he was just out of Byron's line of sight. "That looked amiable enough from over here," she said about their conversation.

"I envy you for not having to suffer through it," Heero groaned. "We'd best get out of here befor--"

"Just a second," Lucrezia interjected. She pointed directly over Heero's shoulder to a booth by the window. "Does that fellow look at all familiar to you?"

Heero turned a bit in his chair and was hit with a small tidal wave as the young man sitting a few tables away came into focus. He sat hunched over a mangled bit of cake, which he had been picking apart with his fork, but was sadly unable to become interested in eating. His tawny lion's mane of hair was sloppily ruffled, and there were darkish half-moons under his eyes as if from weeks of persistent insomnia. "...Marcus!" Heero breathed.

"He's been moping over that dessert for as long as I've been sitting here, and from the look of him, a lot longer than that," said Lucrezia. "Looks depressed. Can't blame him, really."

"Yes..." The wheels in Heero's head spun faster and faster, until he drew a line between two big dots in the café, and his subconscious idea was officially hatched. "Let's go say hello."

Before Lucrezia had the tiniest chance to ask why, Heero was out of his chair and heading over to the booth. Being the gentleman that he was, he held up a moment while Lucrezia caught up, then all but shoved her into the unoccupied side of the booth and sat down on her right. From there, if he stretched, he could just barely make out the side of Byron's head. Marcus was obviously startled, but glad to have a familiar face to chat with. "Hello!" he chirped with surprise. "I hardly expected to see you two here. Hardly expected to be here myself..."

Heero gave him a friendly and sympathetic smile. "How are you coping, Marcus?"

"I don't think I am, really." Marcus sat up and shoved the cake away. "Bloody ostentatious concoction. Didn't really want it anyway."

"You miss Relena, don't you?" Lucrezia asked with genuine empathy.

"Mum and Dad got sick of watching me mope around the house, so they've slung me out for the day. Trouble is, even when I'm trying _so_ hard not to think about her, I end up back in London...hoping..." Marcus breathed out a lovelorn sigh. "I can't look at the window anymore. I keep thinking she'll walk past. You've no idea where she's gone?"

Heero looked down and folded his hands on the table. "Doris telephones the country house every day, just in case, but there's never any answer."

"We've tried her friends, old family acquaintances...nobody's heard from any of them," Lucrezia added. "We even asked the police for help, but they say they can't do anything unless there's evidence of foul play."

Poor Marcus slumped back down over the table, feeling utterly hopeless. "If only I knew if any of this was my fault! I didn't think I was pressuring her, but what if she didn't see it that way? It's all gone wrong..."

There was a five-second pause of absolute silence. "Still, never mind," Heero then said in a somewhat consoling voice. "Until this all gets sorted out, I want you to know, Bridlewood's doors are always open to friends. Anytime, day or night, come on over. Our house is your house."

Lucrezia looked puzzled, but Marcus' entire face gleamed with gratitude. "Oh, that _is_ good of you! All my own friends in Essex have already gone home to be with their families over the winter, so I'm really desperately short of people my own age on the estate. Maybe it _would_ make me feel better to spend the occasional few hours in a different environment...and if Relena came home, I'd find out that much sooner! If there's any possible way I can pay back your kindness, just name it!"

"Well...I wasn't going to ask, but..." Heero glanced across the room at Byron's booth, then dismissed a 'What do you think you're doing?' glare from Lucrezia. "There's a friend of mine sitting on the other side of the café."

"Oh, yes?" Marcus said, looking interested.

"Yes, and it's his birthday in a short while."

"Oh, how nice!"

"I want to get his schoolmates in on a surprise party for him, but I don't know which school he attends."

"Hm, that _is_ a problem."

"I can't ask him, because he'll know something's up, naturally."

"Naturally."

"So...I don't suppose you could..."

Marcus' eyes lit up, being the sort of person who loved to be useful, especially when he had something heavy-hearted on his mind that he wanted to forget. "I'd be happy to! Just point me to him!"

Ignoring Lucrezia's increasingly angry glare, Heero pointed around the corner and gave a brief description of his 'friend.' "Just walk right up and start talking. He _loves_ to chat."

"Consider it done!" said Marcus, and he was off in a flash.

Unable to stand it any longer, Lucrezia reached out, grabbed the silk cravat tie around Heero's throat and yanked on it hard, pulling the tie out of his waistcoat and pulling him sharply to the side, his eyes bulging. "_What_ is _wrong_ with you!?" she whispered.

"Nothing! Get off!" he snarled, tugging back.

"You just sent an innocent boy to go make small talk with one of Lord Jeffrhyss' cronies! Don't you see anything slightly cruel about that!?"

"Byron won't harm him, if he really is innocent," Heero insisted. "And he does love to chat. We all do, us agents, if we're presented with a potentially valuable source of information."

Lucrezia blinked in confusion and didn't even notice that she had let go of Heero's tie. The whole thing was baffling. "This doesn't make _any_ sense. His birthday? His schoolmates?"

Heero leaned a bit out of the booth, saw Marcus chattering away safely, then leaned back and nudged Lucrezia further towards the window. "Listen carefully. Any agent needs reliable information on the people involved with his mission. I was instructed for weeks in preparation for infiltrating the manor, but _Byron_ came to London not knowing the first thing about Treize, and he's suddenly doing _my_ old job."

Lucrezia blinked again. "So you're...proud? Jealous? What?"

"It's not _about_ me, it's about him!" he said in an excitedly hushed voice. "He can't carry out his orders without additional information, and when that happens to an agent in the field, they make contact with an archival base and request the files they need. That's _just_ the sort of place that would have accurate, up-to-date reconnaissance on Hassan, and _that's_ what we're after, but archival bases change location frequently, and I'm out of the loop. I don't know where they are."

"...and sending the lamb after the lion is supposed to help?"

Heero visually sighed. "Right now, Byron's wondering who this person is who had the audacity to strike up a conversation uninvited. He'll memorize his name and contact the archive for information on him, while Marcus will tell us what unsuspecting school he's inflicting himself on. If it's a boarding school, which would be an agent's first choice simply for the plainness and simplicity of the accommodations, the archive will send the information packet _there_, and if we intercept it in some way, we'll have the location of the archive right on the envelope. Then we raid the archive, steal the updated files on Hassan and give them to Dorothy piece by piece. Dorothy tells Treize what she knows, for a small fee, and Treize becomes far too concerned with Hassan to take any notice of what _we're_ doing. See?" He paused, and watched for signs of comprehension. "See??"

Lucrezia propped her chin up on one elbow. "Do you lie awake at night thinking up these schemes, or do they just magically come to you while you're brushing your teeth or something?"

Heero glared. "Don't knock the system. The system works."

In the very next moment, Marcus returned to them, unharmed and a bit more chipper than before. "He's a pleasant fellow, your friend! A bit conceited, but who isn't in a place like this? Oh, well...present company most _certainly_ excepted..."

"Right," Heero said, anxious to get on with it. "Did you find out the name of the school?"

Marcus folded his arms and winked once. "He was pretty tight-lipped about that, but I think I've reliably pieced it together from the hints he didn't know he was dropping."

Heero smirked. He knew Byron was too undisciplined to keep his big trap shut. "And?"

"Eton," said Marcus. "Definitely Eton...although I'd like to know how he gets away with spending his afternoons here. The headmaster really ought to have a talk with him about truancy."

That was good enough for Heero, and he felt a surge of vindication as he raised an eyebrow at Lucrezia. She still wasn't sure if this was all such a good idea, but let him have his moment anyway. Pleased to have been of some help, and to have somewhere to go when he was too depressed to loll about his own house, Marcus treated them both to a dessert of their choice, and they graciously accepted, since they had some time to kill before Byron left, making their escape that much simpler.

**********  
  


Earlier that morning, after fleeing up the stairs with his letter, Duo kept looking at the clock obsessively while he changed out of his white uniform, unsure of exactly where he intended to go. He only knew that he had an irresistible urge to leave the manor, just for a little while, and just until he got a few things sorted out in his head. Wanting to look his best, he put on his black frock coat and re-braided his hair as neatly as he could, then tucked the letter on the petal pink paper into his pocket. Finally, he looked at himself in the mirror, really _looked_, the way he did only once every year or so, and tried to absorb his own age for consideration.

It was something he used to do whenever he had access to a reliable reflective surface, which wasn't often. Not knowing his own birthday had always meant that he had to estimate his age based on memory and looks, and he was never quite sure how old he was supposed to look. Just then, he was wondering if he looked seventeen, and also wondering if seventeen was old enough for a person to know what they truly wanted and needed out of life. Helen didn't seem to think so, hence the disturbing content of her letter. Her words were hurtful, and stabbed Duo straight through the heart, though her underlying tone made it clear that she only wanted what was best for him. Until they could agree on what, precisely, was best, however...

_How could she say those things to me? I could've turned out a lot worse than I did, all things considered! I could've been a drunk or a sloth or a murderer!_

Well...I don't really think I have it in me to be a murderer...

Anger and hurt feelings only made up a small part of the whirlwind of emotions coursing through him. A large part of the rest of it was guilt, which was the reason behind his sudden urge to escape. He checked the clock for the umpteenth time, and flew down the stairs and out the door before, he was quite sure, Heero had even gotten around to finding his replacement for the day's sleuthing.

Duo walked in the first direction he felt like taking, and got into the first hansom cab he happened across. He asked the driver to pick a direction at random and knew that God would do the rest. The driver chose a favourite leisure route of his that took them across the river to the south, and eventually into the borough of Lambeth, where Duo's pocket money for the ride ran out, save a few coins reserved for a specific purpose. He stepped down, thanked the driver, and wandered until he heard the faint, melodious strains of a congregation singing with one voice, wafting on the snow-laced breeze. Down the road from where he was dropped off, there was a church, precisely what he needed to douse himself with so he could sleep that night.

He crept into the building shortly after mass was underway and sat down somewhere towards the back, dropped his few remaining coins into the collection plate, took his first communion in ages, and sang along for the remainder of the hymns. Catholicism was a wonderful medium in which to experience guilt, and just then Duo was swimming in it. Not only did he have Helen's scathing words beating down on him, but the realization that he hadn't been to confession in over a year, when he had more to confess now than at any other time in his life, also pulled his head down lower and lower, until he was staring at his shoes through the entire sermon.

After the service, when everyone else had left, he was still sitting there, mired in despair and self-recrimination. A young curate eventually came over and quietly asked if he could be of any assistance, and for a moment, Duo was tempted to open his mouth and let all his sins come gushing forth, so that he could feel the pleasant sting of judgement, but he said 'No, thank you,' and left the church.

From there, he actually walked home, a terrible distance to inflict upon a pair of feet that genuinely worked hard every day of the week, and didn't even get the Lord's day off to rest. It took almost the entire afternoon, causing him to miss lunch and skip tea, forcing the manor's residents to fend for themselves for once. The most difficult decision of all, the one that kept his mind occupied all the way back home, was whether or not to tell Heero about the letter. The mountain of worry chilled him from the inside, while the snow and wind churned in the air outside, leaving him a frozen, pitiful wreck by the time he dragged himself up the front walk to the manor.

Then, at the peak of his indecision, an unexpected thing happened. Before Duo made it all the way to the door, shivering and slapping his arms to keep his circulation going, the door opened, and Heero appeared. He looked terribly concerned, which was something Duo hadn't seen enough of, so it was difficult to discern. His jacket was off, as it usually was when he was pacing in thought, and he immediately pulled Duo inside and wrapped their thick plaid blanket around him, telling him how worried he was, and that he should have worn his winter coat. Right away, he shuffled Duo into the parlour, where a roaring fire was already waiting for him, and jumbo-size servings of hot cocoa and soup made a grand entrance soon after, carried in by Hilde on a silver tray. The day was finally looking up.

Heero never scolded him for disappearing without telling anyone where he was going, he was just glad to have his little mouse back, and spent the rest of the evening trying to let him know that. In the midst of the comforting process, he also brought Duo up to speed with regards to Byron and Marcus, and the possibility of finding an archive base, until Duo began to sniffle and sneeze. Heero ordered him immediately to bed.

"I'm not getting sick! I can't possibly get sick! I've got a household to feed!" he griped as he emerged from their ensuite bathroom in his newer custom-made black pajamas. "I can't lie around in bed being sick! It's only 7:30!"

"No arguments," Heero said calmly. "You need your rest." He turned down the covers on the bed and marched Duo right into it, ignoring his mild obstinacy. When he was nicely tucked in, Heero sat casually next to him, turning the lantern on the bedside table down low. "So, where did you go, anyway?"

Duo could tell from the tone of voice that Heero was just taking an interest, not checking up on him. He rolled over on his side and snuggled into his pillow, looking up at him. "I went to Corpus Christi, for mass. Haven't been in awhile, figured...I dunno, like I was way overdue."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"...yeah, I did. I kinda miss it."

"Then you should keep going. We managed without you for dinner, I think we could scrape together breakfast for ourselves once a week."

Duo smiled. "Really?"

"Really..." Heero propped himself up with a pillow, took a book out of the drawer, and flipped open to where he left off the day before. "...but not while you're sick."

"I'm _not_ sick!" Duo suddenly sneezed, then frowned as Heero smirked down at his book. "Alright, alright...do you have to win every argument?"

"Go to sleep."

Sighing, Duo tried to go to sleep, but it was just too early for him, even though it was dark out. He rolled onto his back and twiddled his thumbs, thinking about how nice it was to be taken care of, no matter how much he complained about it. It reminded him of what an incorrigible student he was earlier that day, and he began to think differently about his behaviour. "Hey...this morning...you know I wasn't trying to be mean or anything, right?"

Heero looked down and nodded. "I know."

"Yeah, well...can I have a hug anyway?" he asked, sounding pitiful and repentant as he shoved himself up into a sitting position.

Only too happy to oblige, Heero put down his book and wrapped both arms around Duo, and they both squeezed until they couldn't inhale anymore. Heero let Duo lean against him while he tried to get to sleep, and turned the lantern all the way off to save some light for later. Snuggly warm and totally relaxed, Duo silently decided that he didn't need to tell Heero about the letter from Helen just yet. It could only serve to ruin the perfect serenity they had attained, and nothing would be the same afterwards. _Better to keep things they way they are, for now,_ Duo thought. _I'll just have to convince her...I know she won't be happy with me, but I can't do what she asks! I just can't! I'd die!_

Duo nuzzled Heero's shoulder playfully, trying to get his mind off the letter. "Hey...when are you gonna tell me what I said this morning?"

"Forget it."

"Aw, come on, I wanna know!"

"Too bad."

"How about tomorrow?"

"How about never?"

"Oh, _yeah_?"

In an instant, the evening went from a calming time of convalescence to an all-out pillow war that eventually resulted in a cascading snowfall of feathers all over the floor and the bed. They didn't stop to think of the noise they were making, laughing and brawling like two children in a playpen, or that someone passing by their door might hear them and wonder, but neither did Heero worry that Duo wasn't getting his rest. After all, laughter could be very good for the immune system.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


_Next, in Episode Sixty-Seven: A team heads to Eton College, hoping to snatch some information from Byron's living space, while Duo stays home and opens up to Hilde about his mystery letter._

Heeeee. =^-^= Does anyone have a mental picture of this "Byron" person yet? If not, I may have to provide some...visual references. =^_~= And about the language lesson...*chuckles* What did Heero say to Duo that make him stop and think? What did Duo say to Heero that made him hoarse from laughing? I think I'll let you find that out on your own, and forgive Duo for his mediocre grammar, but we wanted to make it as easy as possible for people to research the joke. *blushie* I'm so bad! *cough* Now, I know it'll seem like a long way away, but next eppy will be out on December 5th, to accommodate Rachel's exams. (Rachel: Oh great. Blame me. :P) See you all then!


	67. Crack Shot

**Warnings:** ...groping. =o.o=

**Disclaimer:** I know, from traipsing through every store, mall, and boutique in the Greater Toronto Area, that nobody has Gundam pilots for sale. I even offered to pay retail instead of the supposed sale price, but they still said no. Therefore, I cannot possibly own these magnificent examples of manhood, or the chicks they hang out with. Do not sue me. I have no money except that miniscule amount reserved for presents.

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Sixty-Seven: Crack Shot

_"The harder you work, the luckier you get." ~Gary Player _

December 5th, 1902

As it turned out, Duo really did catch a chill when he went storming out into winter weather unprepared, but with the family gone, nobody needed any exceptionally fancy meals, so Hilde was more than happy to take over his duties with very simple cooking until he recovered. Everyone pretty much agreed that he had been working harder than any of them lately, and Heero concluded that it was probably burnout as much as the cold that made him sick. A quick call to Sally confirmed that it was bed rest he needed, and Heero made sure that was exactly what he got.

The other impending problem was carrying out the plan to intercept Byron's mail, in order to locate the nearest of Lord Jeffrhyss' archival bases. In a roundabout way, Quatre's family depended on it, for until Hassan and Treize could be pitted against each other, there was little hope of ending the war amongst his siblings. Only a little over half of Quatre's sisters remained alive, according to sporadic reports; many lives were still hanging on the task.

A team of five went to Eton that morning, to infiltrate what they believed to be Byron's base of operations, but Duo stayed home, at Heero's insistence. Hilde stayed as well, to feed him soup and generally take care of him, and they had a pleasant, lazy day together in a little-used sitting room on the second floor near his bedroom. It was small and cozy, with its own little fireplace and a window overlooking the street. The two of them turned the sofa towards the window so they could watch the world go by as they chatted over bakery doughnuts and hot apple cider.

"How's your throat this morning?" Hilde asked.

"Better," Duo said tiredly. In the past week, he had suffered a variety of relatively mild symptoms, but the sore throat towards the end of the cold had been the worst. "Can't wait to get back to work. It was nice to have a little rest, but I'm getting bored."

"How can you be bored? You've had Heero all to yourself for a week and a half!" she chuckled.

"It's not as fun as it sounds when you're hacking and coughing all night," Duo moaned. "It was a struggle just to get him to sleep on the couch so he wouldn't catch my germs, and then on Tuesday night, I was keeping him awake with my stupid cough, so I made him go sleep in the other room two doors down. You know, the blue room with the squeaky door?"

"Awww." Hilde rubbed his arm sympathetically.

"He kept telling me over and over that he wouldn't get sick, but I just didn't want to take the chance. It was awful being all alone at night _and_ not feeling well, but I couldn't do it to him." He chomped down on his second plain sugar doughnut, lightly spiced with a pinch of nutmeg, but it didn't do much to cheer him up. Only getting his life back in order would do that. "It's hard enough figuring out the sleeping arrangements as it _is_. Everyone still things my room is somewhere down the hall, and we're both _very_ careful about keeping it that way, but it feels like it's all screwed up now..."

"I doubt anyone's even noticed. Hey, Beth and I fixed up your old room in the attic real nice with some old leftover rolls of wallpaper we found in the storage room! It looks like a patchwork quilt now!" Hilde giggled and happily slurped her cider, but soon, the fact that Duo still looked sullen caught up with her. "Hey...what's the matter with you? You're practically cured, and everything will be back to normal soon. You should be thrilled! ...unless.....something else is wrong?"

Duo stared down into his mug of cider, watching the murky amber liquid swirl around under its own power. He did need to talk to someone about it, because it was eating him alive. "I got a letter from Helen the other day."

A treat like that should have been good news. Hilde swallowed nervously, wondering what the catch was. A decline in the woman's already poor health was the first thing on her mind. "How's she doing?"

"...she, um..." He suggested to himself that he put the mug down, lest he drop it in his despair, but his arms were frozen. "She wants me to leave Heero and go live with her in Ireland again."

Hilde gaped. "What? Why?"

Duo suddenly looked very guilty. "I, uh...got to thinking awhile back, about how I've never been so happy my whole life, and how it's all because of Heero, and she's meant so much to me that I wanted to tell her how great things are, and..."

"...oh, Duo, you _didn't_..."

"I didn't mean to!"

"You almost went to _prison_ for being the way you are, don't you _get_ it!?" Hilde exclaimed, twisting to face him. "You can't tell _anyone_ about it, you told me yourself! _How_ could you go and blab it all out to someone on paper, especially after _begging me_ to keep my mouth shut!?"

Duo shook his head numbly, staring just off from the window. "I never thought I _did_ tell her, until she wrote back...and then I was frantically trying to remember what I said in that first letter, figure out what she read wrong..."

"You mean, what she read _right_," Hilde said softly, propping an elbow up on the back of the sofa.

Duo finally put the mug down, then turned to look at her with pleading eyes, desperate for someone to understand his position. "Can I tell you a secret?" he asked, waiting just half a second until Hilde nodded enthusiastically before continuing. "Heero and I...well, we're close, but as far as the law is concerned, and believe me, I know more about the law than I'd _like_ to.....we haven't....._done_ anything...yet."

"I know you haven't, 'cause you would've told me..._right_??"

She smirked playfully, and that made him smile a bit at last, with a hint of a blush on the side. "..._probably_, but that's not the point. The point is, even though I technically didn't tell Helen any details, and even though me an' Heero haven't technically done anything really wrong, somehow she knows what's hiding way at the back of my mind _and_ knows how to make me feel totally guilty about it. How fair is that?"

Hilde wrinkled her brow and gazed out the window in deep thought. "Would you mind if I read her letter?"

Wordlessly, Duo took the letter from the back pocket of his denims, all crumply and dishevelled, and handed it to her. She raised an eyebrow at the fact that he was still carrying it around with him, then set to work reading it, while Duo picked up another doughnut. After glancing over the first few paragraphs, Hilde was surprised, and let it show in her voice. "Looks to me like she's just worried about you and wants what's best for you, that's all."

"Yeah, but it's the _way_ she says she's worried about me, like I'm on the road to purgatory, or something," Duo explained in a defensively suspicious tone. "She even called Heero a bad influence."

"Oh, now, I'm sure she..." Hilde was about to make light of Duo's concerns when she moved on to the second page of the letter and was hit in the face by a phrase that could possibly be construed as her calling Heero a bad influence. "Oh. She _did_ say."

"Told you."

"Well..."

"She doesn't have any right to talk about him that way. She doesn't even _know_ him. And besides, I think it's safe to say that out of the two of us, _I'm_ the bad influence. I mean, there's poor, innocent Heero, totally ignorant of..." Duo stopped babbling when he realized that what he was about to blurt out was not only speculation, but most probably privileged information if it was true.

"...of _what?_" Hilde asked excitedly, sensing that some juicy gossip was imminent.

"Of..." _Great. Now what do I tell her? That his master shipped him off to gigolo school, but he never made it past the first grade? That they tied him to his bunk like an animal every night so he wouldn't have 'wandering hands'? I don't think even Heero understands that part...if I can't explain it to her, how will I ever be able to show him? This is torture..._ "...y'know, of...of the whole relationship deal in life."

"Oh." Hilde looked vaguely disappointed, but shook it off. "So what are you going to tell Helen when you write back to her?"

Faced with another tough topic, Duo looked down. "I don't think I _can_ write back...at least, not until I figure a few things out. It just rots, too, 'cause I was thinking of going to visit her for Christmas, but now I don't know..." He suddenly felt like turning the conversation around before he got _really_ depressed, so he cracked a smile and grabbed another doughnut. "But enough about me! You're been sneaking out of the house an awful lot lately. If I can guess who you've been going to see, do I win a prize?"

Hilde laughed and blushed at the way he knowingly waggled his eyebrows at her. "It's Wufei," she confessed.

"Knew it," Duo said with pride. "So, what brought that on?"

"I'm still not sure, y'know?" she sighed. "Frankly, I've never been able to picture myself _with_ somebody, and for a long time, all I could think about was sticking close to you and _your_ honey, and leech off of your happiness, but now...I kinda want a honey of my own." She turned an even richer shade of rose, and displayed a sweet, pouty little smile as she fiddled with a loose thread on her apron. "You guys probably think he's a stuck-up egomaniac, but that's just for show. He's really an _angel_. He's smart, he's funny, he's strong...and he's _totally_ incapable of keeping secrets from me, so I think I can trust him," she finished firmly.

"Ah." Duo was easily reminded that the whole reason the girls were let in on the boys' anti-Cinq scheme was because Wufei couldn't keep his lips buttoned up in Hilde's presence. Unexpectedly curious to a radical degree, he scooted closer to her on the couch and lowered his voice. "I couldn't help wondering...what do you do to him to make him squeal all his secrets like that?"

Cautiously, Hilde looked to either side, then at the door and out the window. "Okay, I'll tell you, but don't tell anyone else," she said, and she beckoned him close as she slunk up to his left side. Duo leaned in and let her whisper in his ear. His eyes ballooned in surprise, and Hilde sat back, nodding.

"You're kidding," he breathed.

"Nope. It's true. I just don't want _everyone_ knowing, 'cause they might think less of me for it."

"Wow..." Duo was quite honestly stunned, and also seeing his friend in a totally new light. "Where did you learn how to do that?"

"Well...you know those women who used to prowl around the alley behind that one train station at night, wearing all that perfume and rouge?"

"You got it from _them_!?"

Hilde folded her arms with a snooty glare. "You know as well as I do that when you have to share living space with those women, talking to them is a lot better than listening to them talk to each other about their 'clients.' Besides, it's not as bad as it sounds. You'd do it for Heero, wouldn't you?"

Duo reddened slightly. "Jeepers...I'd kinda have to think about it. I doubt he'd even _want_ me to."

"You never know until you ask," Hilde declared. "Anyway, I've found something that works on Wufei, and I'm sticking with it. He's putty in my hands." The sultry look she threw Duo's way made him squirm, and that made her giggle. Duo had to admit, he felt a little better for being distracted from his dilemma, but he still didn't know what to do about it. In fact, he was just as confused as ever, and began counting the minutes until Heero got home, when his tensions would be sweetly soothed.

**********  
  


The five-person team who left the house on a mission that morning were both surprised and unnerved at how close to Bridlewood Eton College actually was. It could have been clear across the city, fifty miles in the opposite direction, but they lucked out, depending on how they chose to look at it.

They were faced with a group of magnificently austere stone-walled buildings making up the campus, and were all greatly reminded of their various forays to Oxford. Tucked away between the stacks of the book store opposite the college chapel, they could peer through the front window and see some of the residents sauntering around on their mid-morning break. They were mostly boys of varying ages, plus a few grown men employed as professors and house masters, all wearing identical long-tailed black coats, matching pinstriped trousers, and plain white shirts with little white bow ties. Though there was nothing falling from the sky, it was still rather cold, so the boys were keeping indoors as much as possible, and donned long black overcoats for the occasional venture from building to building.

Heero watched the scene carefully, waiting for Byron to cross his line of sight. To the west of the building where they were hiding lay the bulk of the boarding houses, and since they had a clear view of the west entrance to the main college building, he reasoned that if Byron wanted to stop at his room between classes, he'd have to walk right through Heero's path of vision to do it. Then they could follow him right to his dorm. Sheer brilliance.

Quatre, Trowa and Wufei were getting ready for the main part of the mission, while Sally stood off to the side, primping in a compact mirror, a very un-Sally-like thing to do. Feeling as if she hadn't made much of a contribution to the group, she was making a special effort, and had volunteered her only day off in some time.

"How's it looking?" Wufei asked, slinking up to Heero's side.

"The same. If I don't see him, we'll have to ask around to find out if he's even here."

"He should be. I checked the school calendar myself, and they don't go home for Christmas break for another week yet." Wufei snarled and cracked his knuckles. "I'd _love_ to take a stab at him myself, the smarmy little windbag!"

Heero smirked to himself. "Yes...he's almost as pompous and self-important as _you_ used to be."

Wufei took in that thought, and grumbled as he turned away to glance over the rest of the ream. "Are you two ready?" he asked, referring only to Sally and Trowa. The latter was still having his costume adjusted by Quatre, who had gone to three different tailors to concoct a nearly exact replica of the school uniform. Trowa had been chosen to actually sneak onto the grounds and search Byron's room, since he was the fastest runner and had the best chance of escaping if something went awry. Also, Byron might never have seen him properly before, and wouldn't associate him with Heero right away.

"Almost done," Quatre said, reaching up with both hands to tightly button the white shirt collar around Trowa's neck. "Just let me fasten this..."

Trowa exhaled tensely and tried not to squirm too much. It wasn't the long-tailed coat that bothered him, or the circulation-blocking collar--the rift between himself and Quatre was getting wider and more unpleasant. It certainly had not escaped his attention that Quatre hadn't spoken directly to him all day, and was only there because he was asked to fix up a suitable uniform. "How long are you going to keep giving me the silent treatment?" he asked at the bottom of his voice so the others couldn't hear.

"I don't know what you mean," Quatre whispered back innocently. He failed to look Trowa in the eye as he affixed the first of two gold-tone cufflinks onto his sleeves.

"Yes, you do, you've been like this for _days_."

"I've just been tired lately."

"From what?"

"Never mind."

Their mutterings drew Heero's attention, and he walked over and regarded them both coolly. Friction between members of his team could be detrimental to the mission. "Is there a problem?"

The pair stood side by side and several feet apart, practically smashed up against the bookshelves to either side. "No...everything's fine," Quatre took it upon himself to answer.

Heero examined them both carefully. Something might have been wrong, but it didn't seen to be affecting their work performance, yet. He clasped his hands behind his back, pulling his unbuttoned winter coat open a little further. "You all remember your assignments?"

"Decoy," Sally said.

"Decoy's lookout," Wufei added.

"Infiltration and retrieval," said Trowa.

Quatre wondered with mild bitterness at why he of all people was elected costume designer, but temporarily let it slide. "Close-range lookout."

"And long-range lookout," Heero finished, pointing to his chest. "The number of students wandering around is increasing. If we start now, we could have optimum cover for the operation."

"What about Byron?" asked Trowa.

Heero beckoned, and they all followed him to the end of the hedge and peered over his shoulder. Across the path, standing below the massive square stone arch that led into the school yard, were Byron and a handful of his classmates, chatting casually. They spied him just in time before he parted from the group with a wave and headed down Keate's Lane with a few books under his arm, walking swiftly away from the school. Prowling out of the book store in a loose knot, they followed him at an exaggerated distance until he turned down Eton Wick Road, carried on a ways, then ducked into one of the dormitories, labelled Westbury House. He'd picked himself a fine place to set up camp while in London; the splendid three-storey complex was brand new, and looked quite luxurious, even from the outside.

After spending a few minutes inside, Byron came out again, without his books, and headed further down the road alone. There were several fine eating establishments in the neighbourhood, so he was probably on his way to have his elevenses in a posher atmosphere than the communal eating areas, but whatever the reason, the time for swift action had come. A quick conference ensued between Trowa and Wufei over whether or not he should comb back his rather unique cinnamon hair, and while they tried different styles, Heero took Sally aside and inspected her couture more closely. She was wearing perhaps the finest dress in her wardrobe, a dazzling garment of purples and blues, trimmed with tiny pearls and fit for a queen. The hat matched, too. She looked good--a little _too_ good, Heero thought.

"I didn't like to mention it," he said, quietly and delicately, "but...while that _is_ a _very_ interesting dress..."

"You think it's too much," Sally finished for him, brushing a beautifully coiffed lock of hair away from her elegantly made-up face.

"The thought had crossed my mind."

Sally put her hands back into the black fur muff that matched the trim on the cape and tilted her head at just the right angle for the breeze to catch the feather in her hat and flutter it a bit. "Borrowed it from a friend in the dress hire business. I wouldn't have volunteered to play decoy unless I had something specific in mind, and from what you've told me about this kid, I know just how to deal with him."

Heero looked unsure of the whole situation. "What exactly do you intend to do?" he asked with concern.

Sally held her head up defiantly. "I don't tell you how to do your job, do I?"

"You mean recently?"

She wrinkled her nose in a little sneer. "If you're finished, I've got a date with a masher." With that, she strutted away on a course to intercept Byron just outside the college property, and left Heero to his unnecessary worries. He had described Byron to the group as a self-indulgent brat who soaked every one of his lascivious tastes in great excess, and Sally knew the type perfectly, from personal experiences which she was yet keeping secret.

The mission was finally underway, whether it had Heero's ultimate approval or not. He turned to the group and shrugged. "Let's move out."

**********  
  


It was another perfect day in Byron's perfect life, totally free from unpleasant distractions and simple-minded plebs who weren't worth a moment of his precious time. There was a very grand hotel down the road where he liked to lounge in between classes, and also where he liked to bribe the staff to serve drinks to his obviously underage self, and his morning would have unfolded in the usual way if not for a strange sound that proved to be a very pleasant distraction, the kind he welcomed.

Just as he was crossing a slightly snowy road on his way to the hotel, a woman cried out in distress, and he stopped to glance in all directions, searching for the source of the pitiful sound. To his delight, a gorgeous redhead was crouched on the edge of the road, perilously in the way of the prevailing traffic, and also getting her lovely blue and violet dress wet from dragging on the ground. Deep inside Byron's psyche, a bright red flame was sparked at the sight of a very attractive damsel in distress, and as he walked closer, he could easily see the problem, and how to fix it. The heel of her left boot was stuck between the bars of a storm sewer grate. He smirked.

"What have we here?" the boy purred, standing over her with his hands warming in the pockets of his overcoat.

The stunning creature looked up at him helplessly. There was something slightly exotic about her, especially around the eyes, and it drove him absolutely mad. "I feel like such a fool," she whined in a light but smoky voice as she struggled to free her foot.

Byron grinned to himself as the lady's efforts flipped up the hem of her gown, exposing a good three inches of leg above her low-cut boot. "It doesn't look so bad to me," he said, craftily crouching next to her. A sweeping glance all around told him that there wasn't a soul in sight. The conditions were perfect. "All it really needs is a firm, strong grip."

"I just can't believe I could do something so idiotic! I should have paid attention to where I was walking!" The woman's apparent lack of self-esteem, despite her beauty, was highly bewitching, in a strange way, as was the little squeal of pain she emitted when she pulled on her left foot a bit too hard.

"No, no!" Byron scolded sweetly, wrapping his right hand snugly around her ankle. "You mustn't force it..._ease_ it out with slow, even pressure, or you'll twist it." His voice took on a truly predatory tone, and his eyes burned with a thousand unspoken passions.

Now that the actual physical contact was beginning, the red-head pretended to look away bashfully, while she was really checking to make sure that her lookout was still safely but conveniently concealed behind a tree in the distance. She could just see a sliver of Wufei's head, and knew that if she displayed their prearranged 'danger' signal, he'd come running and clean Byron's clock. Turning her attention to the thought of twisting her ankle, Sally looked back at her young visitor and smiled a bit guiltily. "I think I already have..."

Byron clucked his tongue, hiding his desire for those ruby red lips less and less. "Well, now...we can't have you walking on it. I'd better carry you somewhere, before you get run over."

Sally thought he could probably do it, after mentally comparing his physique to Heero's, but kept playing the shy maiden routine. "Oh...oh, I don't know..."

"Now, the longer you stay here, the colder you'll be," Byron cooed condescendingly. As he spoke, he looked around again, then covertly slipped his left hand under her dress as well, luxuriantly stroking the inside of her bare calf while keeping a tight grip on her ankle. His fingers were burning hot against her chilly skin, and he took the lack of a slap in the face as a clear green light to probe further, massaging all the way up to her knee. "There's a hotel around the corner...perfect place to put your feet up and rest awhile..."

_You are so lucky I'm doing this in the line of duty,_ Sally snarled inside her head. Outside, however, she was sending out powerfully feminine signals designed to keep Byron occupied as long as possible, as Trowa was counting on him _not_ coming back to the dorm early. "Sounds a bit fishy to me," she purred back. "How do I know I can trust you?"

"You'll see how respected I am once we get there, my lovely," said Byron. "They treat me like a king, and if you were by my side, you'd make a breathtaking queen."

"Maybe I already have dinner plans," Sally continued, batting her eyelashes.

"Cancel them. I wouldn't dream of letting you soil that beautiful mouth with anything but the finest delicacies. In fact..." Byron leaned in closer, piercing her resolve with his lustful eyes, and let his hand crawl even further up her leg. He toyed with the ribbon that tied the cuff of her bloomers tight and deftly slipped his hand under it, kneading and squeezing the flesh of her inner thigh. "...their breakfast menu is beyond reproach. I'd love to treat you to anything you fancy, tomorrow morning."

There weren't too many ways to misunderstand an innuendo like that. Sally was a great believer in taking one for the team, but some things, she wasn't interested in taking, least of all from Byron. Even so, keeping Trowa in mind made her pause and weigh the effects of playing along a little while longer versus pointing out to the lad that he was far too young for her, and also that it was far too early to be thinking about the next morning's breakfast, so to speak.

"_Mister_ Schaefer!" A gruff but polished gentleman's voice startled them both, and Byron's hands quickly retreated from the depths of Sally's skirt as they both looked up in shock. Having snuck up on them unnoticed, a tall, gray-haired man with neatly-trimmed sideburns was standing over them, peering over the top rim of his spectacles, which sat on the very tip of his prominent nose. His hands were clasped behind his skinny beanpole frame, clearly displaying the black tailcoat and pinstriped pants of the Eton mob. "Must I admonish you yet again for leaving the school grounds without permission!?" he bellowed.

Much in the same way that Heero once bowed to Otto's iron will to keep up appearances, Byron was a slave to his House Master. He frowned. "I was just helping this lady with her shoe, sir," he said with unconvincing deference, "as it seems to be lodged in the road somewhat."

For the first time, Sally blushed as the old man bent down at the waist and squinted at the contact point between her boot and the sewer grate, strangely compelling her to hold her skirt off the ground again to give him a clear view. He seemed completely immune to the sight of an uncovered leg, and after a brief think, he straightened up again and addressed her rather snobbishly. "Would it not be simpler for madam to remove her foot from her shoe?"

Byron and Sally looked at each other with distinct exasperation; both their plans had been ruined. Retreat was now the best option. Sally stood up straight on her right leg and violently wrenched her boot out of the grate, knocking her feathered hat askew from the effort. "Thank you both for your help, but I'm fine," she sniffed, turning and hobbling away as fast as she could.

While the House Master marched Byron back to the campus by the scruff of the neck, Wufei appeared some thirty yards away, out from behind the tree, giving Sally a questioning, open-haded shrug, which she returned. There came a point in her diversionary tactics when there was nothing she could do, and that was all there was to it.

**********  
  


Trowa spent entirely too long deciding on what to do with his hair, and it just ended up springing outward no matter how much he combed it anyway, so he wound up running from his hiding place to Westbury House, mentally formulating excuses for being there along the way. The school population was sizeable, well over a thousand boys of all different ages, so it could be some time, he reasoned, before anyone realized he didn't belong. Trowa was startled to discover, however, that the vast majority of the students were significantly younger _and_ shorter than he was, and he suddenly felt like a stalk of corn in a pumpkin patch.

Once he found a few lads his own age, he started poking around casually, chatting with them at length to make them comfortable with his presence, but even at the point when he could move freely about the dorm, a new problem arose. How would he recognize Byron's room even if he found it? There might not have been enough time looming to thoroughly search every single room, for they were both numerous and quite spacious, so he had to use his noggin.

_If I were looking for Heero's room...the old Heero, that is...what would I look for?_

The answer was, of course, nothing. Agents travelled light, and if they had anything to hide, it was well-hidden. Trowa began peeking into every doorway, looking for a living space that was plain to the point of being totally Spartan. After only five or so minutes of searching, he found it.

He had a funny feeling he'd hit on the right room when he saw a perfectly tidy, well-dusted area with no clutter of personal possessions, and a bunk made to coin-bouncing specifications. Heero said Byron was efficient on the surface, but was occasionally sloppy as a side-effect of his overinflated ego telling him how wonderful he was. Once the hallway was empty of onlookers, Trowa slipped inside, poked his nose into the wardrobe, under the bed, and through every drawer in the creaky old bureau before wondering if perhaps Heero had got it wrong.

Then, a fleeting glance at the wastebasket in the corner overturned the snap judgement. Scattered inside the glorified tin bucket were ashes, spent matches, and some scraps of paper. He crouched down for a closer look, and lo and behold, there was a corner of an envelope staring up at him, waving its arms and shouting 'Here I am!' He picked it up and shook off the light coating of ashes. Byron had obviously meant to burn it, as the edges were badly charred, but miraculously, most of the return address was intact, and clearly legible.

_Heero was right! This guy doesn't take any care in his work._ Trowa shuffled through the rest of the ashes, but there seemed to be nothing else of value. _I wonder if this is really what we're looking for, or if he just has a pen-pal in..._ He squinted at the address. _...France?_

A clunk sounded down the hall. Trowa hastily shoved the scrap of paper in his pocket and stood, just as a group of about eight or nine boys appeared at Byron's door, all wearing those same black tailcoats. They didn't look happy. "Care to explain what you're doing here?" the ringleader said in a clipped accent. The rest of them all glared at Trowa, though many of them couldn't have been more than thirteen. Apparently, Byron had a bit of a fan club.

Trowa put on his innocent face. "I was jus--"

"This is Byron's room!" one of the younger boys snapped.

"What are you doing nosing around!?" a third demanded.

"...now, fellas," Trowa said quietly, "I know this looks bad, but there's a perfectly good explana--"

"Come off it!" the ringleader shouted. "Old Man Frobisher sent you to spy on Byron because he was accused of cheating on an exam! Admit it!"

Before Trowa had any time at all to talk his way out of the minor mess, the boys looked to their collective right and whispered amongst themselves as someone approached from down the hall. Their ranks were parted like the Red Sea, and into their midst stepped Byron himself, fresh from an encounter with the aforementioned 'Old Man Frobisher,' and not in a pleasant mood. He stopped in the centre of his humble room and shot a calculating glare at Trowa; he thought that perhaps he might have seen the cinnamon-haired boy before, but couldn't place him in the correct context. "Who are you?"

The fan club didn't give Trowa an opportunity to spout more of his heinous lies. "He's up to no good!" said one.

"We caught him snooping!" said another.

The increase in atmospheric pressure caused by so many pairs of angry, staring eyes caused all of Trowa's well-planned excuses to squeeze right out of his body and evaporate instantly. "Um...you know, all these houses look pretty much the same, so it's easy to walk into the wrong--"

"Everybody out," Byron ordered. "I want to have a _private_ chat with our friend, here." He looked Trowa straight in the eyes only after spotting dark smudges on his fingers, a clear clue that he had been rifling through the trash.

When the fan club began filing out, Trowa saw his healthy lifespan getting shorter and shorter. Unwilling to risk being left alone with an angry agent even for a minute, he lunged forward and used his advantage in height to knock Byron over. The fan club wheeled around and swarmed in to help their fallen leader up, and in the moment of confusion, Trowa dashed out the door and down the hall, with angry shouts following him all the way down the stairs. In two blinks, Byron was back on his feet, and giving chase.

Leaving the rest of the pack behind, Trowa and Byron shot out of the building and across the grounds. The spacious sporting fields nearby were empty, leaving only twenty yards of scattered snow and half-dead grass between the runners. As expected, Trowa's longer legs were carrying him away much faster, and at the sound of clomping footsteps shattering the morning silence, Quatre poked his head out from behind his hiding hedge and got ready to run as well. In a few seconds, they would be racing around the corner to the Peacecraft family carriage waiting just a block away.

Byron had pieced together the sequence of events, and was justifiably livid. Huffing and puffing, he realized he had no hope of catching the interloper, so he would have to stop him some other way. Equidistant between the dormitory and the safety of the hedge, Byron stopped and drew his gun.

Acting as the long-range lookout, Heero was concealed behind a decorative rock wall to the north-west, and had both eyes glued to the scene from the beginning, constantly calculating trajectories from the second Trowa appeared. He had guessed correctly that Byron had been issued a service revolver, just as he had, but he refused to give him a chance to use it. In the same instant that Byron took aim at Trowa, Heero sprang up on top of the wall, balanced on one knee, and lined up his shot. A bullet cracked the air, making Trowa panic and duck while he was running, but it came from the north-west, shredding the atmosphere and slicing a thin but painful gash across the top of Byron's hand. He yelped from the burning sting of hot lead against unprotected flesh and dropped his weapon, giving Trowa ample time to make his escape.

Now furious beyond belief _and_ in moderate agony, Byron twisted to his right, searching the horizon for his assailant, and saw a brief flash of chocolate brown hair and black overcoat between the trees. Proof or no proof, he knew who it was. Heero got away easily and had a right to be quite pleased with himself, having placed the bullet exactly where it needed to be, no more, no less. He _was_ a crack shot, after all.

Trowa, Quatre and Heero met up at the carriage, all running full-speed from different directions, though there was no need; Byron hadn't bothered to follow. Sally was already inside, holding the door open for them, and Wufei was at the reins, having agitated the horses into a mild frenzy so they were sure to take off like four-legged rockets as soon as they were given the order. The team quickly assembled in the carriage, and off they sped, down the street and out of sight.

While they all caught their breath, Trowa couldn't help patting down his chest and torso in a frantic search for bullet holes. When he was satisfied that he hadn't been hit, he sat back and rubbed his eyes. "I thought you people weren't supposed to fire your weapons in public!" he gasped.

"Byron never cared much for rules," Heero answered, hardly out of breath.

"I wish you could have _warned_ me before doing that!" Quatre exclaimed, checking his own pulse on one wrist. "You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

Sally, who was next to Heero in the carriage, took off her hat and started fluffing her hair back into shape, looking guiltily at Trowa. "I'm really sorry. I kept him busy as long as I could..."

Trowa waved it off, still panting. "S'okay."

Letting the other two recover for a moment, Heero caught Sally's attention with a hand on her arm and the same concerned look as before. "Are _you_ alright?"

"...yeah," she exhaled tiredly, rehashing the experience in her head and wondering if she would do it again if she had to. "It's just as well that I _didn't_ know he was armed the whole time, though."

They were all so glad to have escaped in one piece each that it took another minute or so for Trowa to remember what he had been searching for. With an expression of slight revelation, he reached a grubby, ash-coated hand into his pocket and took out the battered corner of envelope with the burnt edges. The others all leaned forward to see what he had found, and ignored the rattling and jostling of the carriage ride. "This was all I could come up with," he said, passing the scrap into Heero's hands.

Heero examined the artifact and sneered with superiority. "...so careless...see what he's done? He set his drink down on this, leaving a damp ring around the return address that stopped the flame when he tried to burn it. He probably never gave it a second thought."

"He did when he saw _me_," Trowa said.

"Where's it from?" asked Quatre.

The writing was a bit blurred in places, and a bit smudged in others, and part of it had been seared away, but there was enough left over for Heero to draw a reasonable conclusion. "Normandy, France."

They all fell silent. The hope was that finding out where the archival base was would make their whole struggle simpler, but watching it land soundly with a thud in another country somehow made it all seem more complicated than it needed to be, and there was still the possibility that the scrap of envelope had nothing at all to do with Jeffrhyss' organization. For all they knew, Byron could have been receiving love letters from some poor, heartbroken French girl. The only way to find out would mean another long journey, for another time.

**********  
  


Duo was just about ecstatic to get everyone back home safe and sound, but he wished he had some better news to greet them with. He didn't quite know how to tell everybody that the butcher, the baker, the green grocer, and every other institution that supplied the manor with food were anxious to be paid, and without Otto doling out monthly cheques as per usual, they were now on the verge of cutting off Bridlewood's line of credit. Things were looking grim for Christmas dinner if they couldn't come up with some cash. Still, the brave knights had returned to the castle, and for the moment, all was well in the valley, so he didn't have the heart to break it to them just yet.

The evening meal was pleasantly uneventful, and afterwards, everyone toddled off in pairs or groups to let the day wind down in peace. Once Duo finished clearing up, he was all set to curl up in front of a toasty fire with someone special, but there were so many weird vibes floating around the dinner table that he just had to check them out on the quiet. As he crossed the empty kitchen, slinging a tea towel over his shoulder, he tiptoed over to the hall leading to Trowa and Quatre's room, and even though he knew it was wrong, he listened a bit.

"...honestly think I wasn't going to make it? I knew what I was getting into."

"But when I heard that gunshot, I thought it was all over..."

"Hey...I'm here. I'm okay. But y'know...even if I _did_ get shot, I'd rather take that than duck out of the way and let him hit you instead, 'cause that's what might've happened. See?"

"...I wasn't sure if you still felt...that way..."

"Of course! Whatever else goes wrong between us, I'll _always_ be your friend, and I couldn't stand to see anything happen to you."

"Yeah...me too. That's why that shot scared me so badly. I thought for an instant that you could die, and I've never felt anyone die before...never mind someone I was close to..."

Duo leaned back and scrunched up his eyebrows. _'Never felt anyone die before'? How the heck do you 'feel' someone dying? Huh. That's weird..._ Only then was he reminded of how naughty it was to listen in on other people's private, albeit deranged, conversations, and he left them to it, whatever it was. He flung the tea towel on the kitchen table on his way to the stairs, but couldn't help wandering around the first floor in search of another glob of people to eavesdrop of. The three older housemaids were in the parlour, but weren't gabbing about anything relevant. Sally and Lucrezia, however, were having a rather interesting chin-wag in the den, and despite his better judgement, Duo stopped outside the doorway to listen.

"...went down to Hampshire today."

"Oh, really?"

"Mm...I walked all the way around the outside of the country house, banging on every door and window and yelling until my voice gave out from the cold."

"Nothing?"

"Not a peep. I just don't know...maybe he's not there at all. Maybe I was just fooling myself to think he'd listen to me anyway."

"There _must_ be a reason why he won't even _write_ to you, to let you know he's alright."

"Knowing Milliardo, he probably thinks he's saving me from some horror too dreadful for me to handle. He should know by now that I've grown just as much as he has. He should be able to trust me with anything."

"Don't get yourself down. There's still Christmas to look forward to...he might come home then..."

The voice of Lucrezia did not reply to Sally's last remark. Duo felt bad for her. _Poor gal...must be awful. Boy, if that guy was here right now, I'd let him have it for upsetting her like that. Or at least, I'd think seriously about letting him have it...seeing as how he's paying our wages an' all. Hey...if the family doesn't come back, we might never get paid again! That would be uncool._ Duo slunk away from the den and headed upstairs.

On the second floor, he was distracted again from reaching his own room by the most peculiar sounds coming from his right, down the hall in the opposite direction. As he got closer, the sounds became nauseatingly clear as growls, purrs, and sensual moans of delight. Scarier still, it was Wufei's voice that was making them. Remembering what Hilde had confessed to him earlier, Duo was overcome by a sick curiosity and crept closer to the pertinent door, which was firmly shut, and at the same moment, Wufei's vocalizations became more distinct.

"You are absolute _magic,_ do you know that?"

From somewhere beyond the door, Hilde let out a muffled giggle. There was no stopping Duo's rampaging curiosity now. He crouched down silently and put his eye up to the tantalizing keyhole to peek inside, and was treated to the best view possible of the secret goings-on. There was Wufei, stretched out on the sofa in front of the fire, with his arms slung out to the sides and his head thrown back in ecstasy on the armrest, and kneeling on the floor, just out of his grasp, was Hilde. She was giving him a foot rub.

"Awww, did my Pooky have a bad day?" she cooed, pressing her knuckles into his right heel.

"_Every_ day's a bad day when you're surrounded on all sides by a sea of mediocrity," he whined.

"They don't deserve you."

"I know."

"You're so sweet to put up with it."

"I am."

"So tell me...what do you fellas plan to do with that return address?"

She dug her thumbs into the soles of his feet and he let out another darling growl before blabbing exactly what had been discussed in the carriage on the way home. At this point, Hilde would have found out anyway, but she so delighted in extracting information from Wufei that she couldn't wait until their next official meeting. Duo stood up and flicked up his eyebrows, impressed. _Wow. It really does work._ He still didn't think Heero would be all that interested, but at least now he had a visual reference in case of an emergency.

Lastly, he headed for his lonely room, which Hilde had been kind enough to scrub down to eliminate any traces of the cold virus. There was a happy surprise waiting for him, however, in the form of Heero bringing back all his necessities from the blue bedroom two doors down. Duo grinned as he watched him replace his pocket watch and waterglass on the bedside table. "You're moving back in!" he cheered.

"I know you were trying to be gallant by kicking me out, but I just couldn't sleep in that room," Heero said with a faint crackle of fatigue in his voice. "Maybe it was the gap in the window frame that kept whistling all night..."

"Yeah, maybe," Duo said, smiling. _Or maybe you just can't sleep without me._ "No need to worry, though. I've been feelin' great all day!" It wasn't strictly a lie; he did feel better, physically. He helped Heero move the sofa over to the fireplace, and briefly ran down the situation with their creditors while he lit a spark-filled fire. With the addition of two cushioned footstools to the ensemble, they kicked off their shoes, collapsed on the sofa and warmed their feet side-by-side, relaxed and content.

They stayed there for over an hour, and nearly feel asleep leaning on each other several times. At the height of the coziness, Duo coiled his arms around Heero's waist and snuggled up close, then finally gave some thought to his Helen problem. _Somehow...I'll have to make her understand that this is too good to give up...that he's too good to let go of. How can something that feels so wonderful possibly be bad?_ That thought was lingering on his mind for the rest of the time they spent in front of the fire, and stayed with him all night, even in sleep.

**********  
  


Well after midnight, in a lonely country estate in Hampshire, weary Milliardo sat up in a weathered old armchair, gazing out the window with the kind of melancholy one doesn't come across too often. The simple unpleasantness of being separated from Lucrezia had ended, and a deep depression was setting in. During the day, he and the others, Relena, Otto, and Pegan, hid themselves deep in the centre of the massive building, afraid that anyone who got too close would find themselves as badly entangled in the colossal plot, as they were, but at night, Milliardo planted himself in front of any window he could, and stared.

Forever concerned with the health and well-being of his charges, Pegan stayed up just as late, and brought him a brandy on a tray, comforting him the only way he knew how. Milliardo looked slightly to the right as Pegan appeared beside him, and took the wide goblet off the tray after gazing forlornly at it. "You heard? This afternoon, all around the house?"

If young Master Peacecraft was referring to the sad sounds of Miss Lucrezia knocking furiously on all the doors and windows, calling over and over for him to please come out and talk to her, Pegan was painfully aware. "Yes, sir."

"She came too close, today. I can't risk letting her in, no matter how much it hurts us both. I only wish Relena didn't have to be involved."

"If I may say so, sir," the elderly butler begged, "both yourself and Miss Relena have displayed amazing fortitude during this ordeal, in my opinion. You should remember, however, that _she_ has already had to be just as strong as you must be now, when she was agonizing over whether to involve _you_ or not. I think the girl deserves a great deal of credit."

Milliardo looked up with a bit of worry. "Is she asleep?"

"I believe so, sir."

"Good...she needs her rest. Whatever's to come, she can't afford to damage her health."

Pegan raised one of his bushy eyebrows, and his moustache twitched with humour. "Certainly not...staying up all night, staring out the windows and drinking brandy simply wouldn't do."

Milliardo almost smiled at the comment; in fact, he wished he could. "Point well taken, Pegan." He stood, drained his glass, and set it back down on the butler's tray. "She'd never forgive me if I fell ill from worrying about her."

They both walked slowly and despondently out of the unnamed room and into the hall, where Pegan saw Milliardo as far as the main staircase, then stopped. "It is...a most noble thing, sir," he ventured humbly.

"What is?"

"The sacrifice of one's happiness for the good of humanity. I think perhaps His Lordship would have been proud of you both."

A smile finally teased at Milliardo's down-turned mouth, and he clapped Pegan lightly on the shoulder. "We can only hope so." After that, they went their separate ways and retired for the night. There would be yet another busy day ahead, full of financial reckonings, travel plans, and the search for answers to the ultimate question--what to do about the Cinq Association.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


_Next, in Episode Sixty-Eight: The team takes a gamble and heads for France, where the truly unknown awaits. Relena has a painfully honest discussion with her elders, during which some harsh realities must be forced into the light of day._

...*looks at Hilde* ...*looks at Wufei* ...*looks at the readers looking at her* ...what? You thought they were doing something _else_ with their free time? Well, I _certainly_ don't have a lewd imagination, unlike some people. =P *GUFFAW* =^_~= Aaah, I'm just kiddin' ya! You people know I'm an awful tease, that's why you love me, right? *grin* Okay, everybody's gearing up for the holidays, but I'm not slowing down, not one bit. Next eppy will be on December 14th, so be ready! =) Oh, and while you're waiting, there was just no way to really do justice to Eton in the space of one episode, so I hope you'll all check out their Website ( http://www.etoncollege.com ), which features, among other many interesting things, a scale map of the grounds so you can see the route our heroes and heroine took to catch Byron! Tons of info there! See ya!


	68. The Time Capsule

**Disclaimer:** I know, from traipsing through every store, mall, and boutique in the Greater Toronto Area, that nobody has Gundam pilots for sale. I even offered to pay retail instead of the supposed sale price, but they still said no. Therefore, I cannot possibly own these magnificent examples of manhood, or the chicks they hang out with. Do not sue me. I have no money except that miniscule amount reserved for presents.

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Sixty-Eight: The Time Capsule

_"At night, when all the world's asleep, the questions run too deep...I know it sounds absurd but please tell me who I am." ~Supertramp, "The Logical Song" _

December 14th, 1902

It was a legal necessity that certain members of Heero's team stay home while the others took the ferry to France, specifically, those without passports. That eliminated Trowa and Hilde right away, while Lucrezia didn't want her family picking up on her cross-border movements, and Sally was simply too busy with her patients. That left Heero, Duo, Quatre and Wufei to investigate the possibility of an archival base being only a long stone's throw away from Jeffrhyss' hideaway on the Isle of Wight.

From the docks of Portsmouth, on England's south coast, the ferry took them through the Channel Islands to St-Malo, in the province of Normandy, where the customs officials failed to spot that two of the four names on the groups' passports were false. The return address on Byron's envelope indicated general delivery at the post office in a small town called Londéac, so that was where they headed first. The journey was so long that by the time they got there, it was practically dusk, so the four of them booked themselves into a quaint country inn for dinner and a night's rest.

The inn had absolutely no double rooms, which was both a problem and a relief for Heero and Duo. Had there been any, the dilemma would have been whether or not to take advantage of them. As it was, all they had to worry about was sleeping alone, and they thought that, for one more night, they could manage. After all, they were supposed to be battle-hardened warriors who could adapt to adverse conditions, anywhere, anytime.

**********  
  
1:17 am

Heero was lying down with his eyes closed, pretending to be asleep. There was no one else in the room to benefit from his deception, so he must have been trying to fool himself.

_Relax...just relax...you'll be asleep before you know it.....except I told myself that an hour ago, and it still hasn't worked. Maybe there's a spring in my back or something._ He sat up, shoved over a bit, and prodded the mattress, looking for lumps. There weren't any. He flopped back down and closed his eyes again. _Just relax...relax and breathe..._

The longer you keep talking to yourself, the longer it will take, so shut up. He rolled over on his side and scrunched up his pillow with a slight shiver. _It's too cold in here...but there's nothing you can do about that, so just ignore it._

1:53 am

_It's still too cold in here._ Heero sat up again and tried folding the blanket in half to double up on its warmth, but then it wouldn't cover him properly from side to side. None of them had brought any luggage, so he was sleeping in his shirt and shorts; remembering the clothes he came in with, he crawled out of bed, yanked his overcoat off the peg in the wall, wrapped it fiercely around himself, flopped back into bed, and pulled the blanket back in place, scowling.

_.....I never noticed this fabric was so scratchy._ After only two minutes, he pulled off the overcoat, balled it up, and threw it angrily at the floor. _...and now I'm cold again. For what they're charging for these rooms, you'd think they could afford to heat them properly._

Again, he pressed the side of his face into the pillow and tried desperately to shut off the chattering inside his head.

2:25 am

_...what's wrong with you? This shouldn't be happening. Agents don't get insomnia, and they certainly don't complain about their accommodations! If anyone from the organization saw me like this they'd say I was soft._ Heero rolled back over on his back and wove his fingers together behind his head. _There's no reason why I should be a model of efficiency when executing a mission with my team and then fall to pieces in the middle of the night. I can command myself to sleep. There's no reason why I should lie here awake indefinitely._

There are exactly eighty-four soot circles on the ceiling...

3:19 am

_This is ridiculous. It'll be dawn in a few hours, and I'm going to be a wreck!_

He tossed, he turned, he rearranged himself every which way he could, but sleep was impossible. It was fairly similar to what he went through while Duo was sick, when he spent a few nights in a different room, alone. He rolled over on his left side and stared at the tattered striped wallpaper, comprising part of the barricade between his own room and Duo's.

_Would I be able to sleep if he was here with me?_

Different parts of his brain had differing opinions on the subject. The left side thought it was preposterous; why would anyone who slept in total isolation for twelve years suddenly shut down in the absence of another person? It was improbable, illogical, and would make his former master cringe. The right side of his brain just wanted Duo back.

_If he was here right now, he'd be the one complaining about the cold. Then he'd put an extra blanket around us both...and it wouldn't quite be enough, so he'd crawl closer to me, just a little bit at a time...until I got impatient and pulled him right up next to me.....and he's settle down and fall asleep in five minutes. And so would I._

3:50 am

Heero sighed with a tone he had never heard himself emit before, and reached out to place a hand flat against the wall right next to the bed. _He might only be six inches away from me. I wonder if he's gotten any sleep._

He would never rationally wish a restless night on his best friend, but part of him secretly hoped that Duo was tossing and turning just as much. _Wouldn't it be terrible if we were never able to sleep apart again? It would mean sharing a bed for the rest of our lives, or else risk slowly going insane from sleep deprivation. We'd have no choice._ He smirked to himself, just a little bit. _That's as good an excuse as any._

The painfully slow ticking of the clock made him strangely philosophical. He surmised that he needed Duo because Duo represented everything that he was missing in himself, like innocence, and a natural joy of living. That made him wonder if he had qualities that Duo needed, making them cosmically bound in a perfectly symbiotic pairing, like two halves of the same soul. It was a comforting thought, one that finally relaxed him to the edge of drowsiness.

_Oyasumi, Duo-nezu,_ he thought, moments before drifting away from consciousness.

**********  
  


Lately, Relena had become a demon for getting people up on time. The girl who once loved to snooze late and maybe saunter down to breakfast around 10:30 was now knocking on doors by 6:50, serving ultimatums to those within. As was the established routine, the four of them gathered in a corner of the library, a sort of inner sanctum of the country house that was far from the outside walls. On the dusty mahogany shelves that stretched twenty feet up to the cathedral ceiling, thousands of cloth and leather-bound volumes slowly disintegrated while they listened to the secret conversations invading their cloister.

"We need to sort this out before it gets to be unmanageable," Relena said to kick off the morning meeting. "We know where we have to be and when, we know what we have to accomplish, and to an extent, we know what we're up against." Seated at the great oak reading table with her back to the fireplace, she pushed her empty coffee cup away and laced her fingers together thoughtfully. "The problem is money."

Otto and Milliardo sat opposite each other, perpendicular to Relena, and picked away at their breakfasts while poking through a short stack of papers each. Periodically, Pegan would hover around the candle-lit room refilling teacups and supplying butter and jam for the toast. "I have the final figures from the appraisers," Otto said with a slightly groggy drawl, "and with them, I've been able to pull together a reasonably accurate figure representing our net worth." He took out a sheet of paper with all the calculations on it, including the estimated market values of Bridlewood, Sutherby House, the cache of gold, and all their earthly possessions, and slid it across the table to Relena.

She studied the numbers intently, and it was depressing to see the potential sale of all their precious heirlooms in print. "Would it be enough?"

Otto looked down at his plate briefly. "There's no way to tell."

"If Treize sold every one of his castles, we wouldn't have a chance," Milliardo said.

"But we won't be judged strictly by the size of our bank account, correct?" the girl asked.

"So it would seem," said Otto. "I'm sure personality comes into it somewhere, but if there _does_ turn out to be a requirement for minimum net worth, and we're unable to meet it, we'll be out of luck until another member of Cinq abdicates."

"Or dies," Milliardo added, stone-faced.

Relena knew the tone her brother was using, and she shivered involuntarily. When they were children, he used that tone when he was plotting how to get his way around the house. "What do you mean?"

Milliardo traced a wavy line through his eggs with his fork, looking down slyly. "Seems to me that the quickest way out of the Cinq Association is death. Even on the off chance that someone else beats us to that empty place, all it might take to open up another is one well-placed bullet."

"If we _cheated_ to reach our objectives, we'd be no better than the people we're trying to--"

"You'll have to check your morals at the door sooner or later," the young man snapped at his sibling. "There's too much at stake here!"

"Sir, _please_ think on this a moment," Otto begged. "If the murder was somehow traced back to us, we'd be disqualified anyway, and if we succeeded in setting a precedent of ascension by assassination, who's to say _we_ wouldn't be someone _else's_ victim!?"

"Alright, alright," Relena sighed, massaging her temples. "We've been circling around these same questions for weeks, and we're no closer to a solution. The bottom line is _still_ going to be money, I'm convinced of that...and after looking at these numbers, I'm not sure if we're going to make it."

The crackling fire seemed amplified in the sudden silence. Otto never liked uncomfortable pauses like that, and he dove back into his half-full place, driven by a defence mechanism that had contributed to his bear-like figure for the past thirty years. After scarfing down another two griddle cakes, he slid back into the conversation. "It's a pity we can't ask the rest of the family for contributions since most of them...passed on unexpectedly."

It was a pitiful but necessary reminder that Treize had decimated the extended Peacecraft family, eliminating all hope of financial aid. Certainly, all of the victims had remembered Relena and Milliardo in their wills, but it was hardly sufficient in the face of such a daunting requirement. Milliardo leaned back and crossed his arms, staring at the five-candle centrepiece. "It's a greater pity we don't have fifty friends with about a million pounds each."

Relena saw the way Otto and her brother slowly locked eyes across the table, as if silently hatching a new plan between them, and instantly grew livid. "Absolutely _not_! I would _never_ go crawling to all our friends, begging for money!"

"You'd do well to swallow your pride for such a worthy cause," Milliardo chided softly.

"I can't help it. It just feels wrong. I know our task is important, but I never wanted it to come between us and the few people in the world we won't be alienating in the new year!"

Pegan had been quietly hovering the entire time, but found an idea in the back of his head as he came up beside Relena with a tray of empty dishes. "If I might be permitted to make a suggestion," he said in his pleasantly posh accent, "there _is_ a way for one to accumulate funds if one is self-conscious about asking for them."

The three of them looked up at the butler curiously. It was highly unorthodox to seek advice from a domestic servant, but they had trusted him with everything else of importance lately, so it couldn't hurt to try. Relena nodded. "Go on."

Pegan readjusted the tray in his white-gloved hands and cleared his throat gently. "Well, when I was a young boy in the southlands, we never had much money, and it was an awful struggle if my brothers or I wanted some new shoes or even an empty book to write in. One day, I was walking past the local mercantile, and I saw a magnificent toy sailboat in the window. It was months before my birthday, but _oh_, I did _dream_ of sailing it 'round the pond in our backyard that summer.

"I had no money of my own, of course, and we were strictly taught against begging or borrowing. I had nothing to sell, and there was nowhere to work, so what was I to do? Well, from our farmhouse to the town was a six-mile hike, and I was _very_ good at walking back and forth without getting tired. Once I discovered my true talent, I looked for a way to make it work for me.

"So, I went to ten strangers, well-off chaps who didn't know me or my family, and asked them all if they would give me a farthing for walking twelve miles. They all laughed at first, thinking I was incapable, but eventually they promised to pay me a farthing to walk into town, deliver a message, and walk back with a reply to prove that I'd done it. A farthing wasn't much to these gentlemen compared to their curiosity, not to mention their confidence that they wouldn't have to pay at all, and by Jove, the looks on their faces when I returned to each one of them with my mission completed!"

"And did you get your sailboat?" Relena asked.

Pegan gave her a shy but self-satisfied smile. "Many years, we sailed around that pond together...many happy years." He reached down to collect some more dishes while he finished off the story. "Naturally, word spread amongst the other youngsters of my success, and they began approaching all the neighbours, collecting promises of pocket money for their simple labours. 'Pledges,' we called them."

The trio exchanged surprised looks, and Milliardo leaned forward on his elbows. "Fascinating concept," he mused. "If that could be made to work on a larger scale..."

Otto snapped his fingers in realization. "And if people were promising money towards something that would be done anyway, there would be no risk involved, and they wouldn't feel pressured to _buy_ something."

"None of our friends could afford to buy _real estate_ from us," Relena continued, gazing off into space, "but it they _all_ contributed a small amount..."

"...we may be able to close the gap between ourselves and Treize, and still keep Bridlewood," Milliardo concluded.

It wasn't a clear-cut solution to their money problem. Even if all their friends could spare a few pounds here and there, the Peacecraft family still had to find something to offer, _and_ mask it as some sort of charitable purpose without tipping off the authorities, but it was a start. At least it got the debate rolling in a different direction, which was something that hadn't happened in several weeks.

**********  
  


At breakfast, in the restaurant portion of the inn, Wufei and Duo listened in awe as Heero and Quatre ordered all the food in flawless French. Nobody had even guessed that Quatre possessed such a talent, but there he sat, carrying on a friendly chat with the waitress. After the meal, they headed for the post office, where the planned to watch very carefully every person who came and went. Anyone who received their mail via general delivery had to pick it up in person, and the boys agreed to take turns following them back to their points of origin, hoping that one of them might be Jeffrhyss' archival base.

Thus far, it hadn't been a thrilling victory. Of the five people who came to collect their mail that morning, unaware that four nosy teenagers were guzzling coffee in the café across the street and watching their every move, three were reputable merchants, one was a farmer, and the last was a retired army officer. None appeared to be the least bit suspicious. Still, the hunt continued.

Wufei's turn came again, and he followed a twelve-year-old boy away from the post office while the others waited. During the off times, it gave them spare moments in which to really appreciate the foreign land they were rushing through. A humble French village was a lot like a humble English village, which they had all seen examples of before. The packed gravel roads were travelled by the occasional horse and cart, and the villagers in their drab clothes plodded from shop to shop, gathering the necessities of daily life. It was the same, and yet it was different. The plants in the hedgerows were slightly different varieties, the buildings were constructed along different architectural lines, even the air smelled a bit different. It was a mission first, but a learning experience a close second.

This was not to say that those left behind while Wufei followed his target were happy to be waiting. "I can't believe I'm stuck in this dumb little café while I'm in a country with so many great restaurants," Duo whined. He was sitting opposite Quatre at a round table with a red and white checkered tablecloth, playing one of Quatre's favourite card games, gin rummy. "Are we gonna get _any_ time for sightseeing?"

Heero was perched one table closer to the window, watching the building across the street and waiting for his next turn as he leaned back casually in his round-backed chair with one leg slung over the other. "Maybe, if we find something useful today, but we shouldn't stray too far from the coast. We're needed back home as soon as possible."

Duo pouted a bit. "Couldn't we swing by Paris on the way home? It's only _that_ far on the map," he said, holding up his forefinger and thumb with an inch between them.

Heero smirked and gave him a reassuring glance. "Another time, I promise."

That was good enough for Duo, because Heero always kept his promises, and he happily turned his attention back to the card game, at which Quatre was beating him soundly. The blond boy picked up a jack, laid down three sevens, discarded a two, and grinned a bit. "I'm just grateful for the chance to practice my French in a native environment."

"You're just full of surprises, aren't you?" Duo teased as he studied his selection of cards.

"That's the benefit of being surrounded by tutors throughout your childhood. I was even starting to learn Punjabi before father fell ill. Of course, I meant to keep up with it, like I meant to keep up with everything else, but for the last few years, there's always been something more pressing to do."

"I hear that," Duo said, setting down three sixes and discarding a nine.

"Here he comes," Heero interjected quietly, and the three of them slowly lumbered to attention, rather than snapping to it. The snapping had stopped nearly two hours before.

Exhausted from his long walk, Wufei trudged back into the café in a kind of tan canvas coat, and plunked himself down in a chair while Heero beckoned the waitress over and ordered him some tea. Wufei flopped forward on the tabletop in front of Heero, propping his head up on one arm, and when the tea arrived, he gradually perked up enough to deliver his report in a weak, travel-weary voice. "Another false alarm."

They all groaned and slumped backwards. Much more of this, and they'd be running back to the Channel ferry without so much as a look back. "What was it this time?" Heero demanded in frustration.

"A winery." As soon as Wufei said it, Quatre scowled in puzzlement and reached down into the pocket of his winter coat, but nobody noticed. "I'm having serious doubts about this whole concept," Wufei went on. "I mean, maybe we got it wrong about that envelope in Byron's trash. Maybe it was totally innocent correspondence after all."

Quatre was now flipping through his French phrasebook, searching for something, while Duo picked up the disappointed tone of the conversation. "What a total rip off! All that time and money down the drain!"

"He probably _planted_ that envelope to throw us off the scent!"

"Man, if I ever meet Byron face to face, I'm gonna _pound_ him!"

All the while that Duo and Wufei bantered back and forth, Quatre was poring over the pages in the back of his phrasebook, and as he suspected, he came across an intriguing fact. "There's shouldn't be any wineries in this part of France."

Three pairs of eyes latched onto Quatre. "What do you mean?" asked Heero.

"Normandy isn't a wine-producing region. It's all here in the back of the book, see?" Quatre held up the phrasebook, opened to a map of France that showed all the wine regions marked in gray and clearly labelled. Normandy wasn't near any of them. "There shouldn't be a commercially-grown grape crop within hundreds of miles, and certainly not enough to sustain a winery."

Heero's eyes narrowed and began to gleam with a ravenous glow. "We ought to pay this fine establishment a visit, maybe pick up a bottle or two to take home with us," he suggested with very subtle sarcasm.

"Sure thing," Duo agreed, mimicking the other boy's smirk. "And if they haven't got a drop to sell us, well, I'll bet they've got a perfectly good reason why."

The vote was unanimous. A winery suddenly seemed out of place and highly suspicious, and further investigation was needed. They paid their bill, which, after three and a half hours, was almost as long as the waitress' arm, got a few extra sandwiches to serve as lunch on the road, and followed Wufei. He led them southeast to a hilly area in the countryside which was still faintly green despite the cold. Up one gravel road and down the other, the groves of trees got larger and thicker, and even though they were bare of leaves, it ranged from difficult to impossible to see past them.

Tucked in front of such a grove of thick trees, a good three hundred feet back from the road, was a charming flagstone villa with, of all things, a wine cask propped up on wooden blocks on the front lawn. On the side of the great, hulking panel which faced the road was painted the name of the place in flaked Gothic lettering: 'Le Château Pignon'

Bold or foolish, Heero walked straight up to the building and opened the door. When Duo caught up to him in the foyer, he was none too pleased. "Slow down!" he whispered, grabbing Heero's arm. "If this place is what we think it is, we can afford to be more careful than that!" Quatre echoed the concern, but Wufei just folded his arms and wandered around the lobby, observing.

"The first level of any base is meant to deter suspicion," said Heero. "There won't be any guards here."

A look around the lobby seemed to support that theory. It was set up as a simple wine shop, presumably to sell the wares of the chateau itself. A closer look at the stock on the shelves told Wufei differently, however. "They must think they're pretty clever, sticking their own labels overtop of someone else's wine." To demonstrate, he plucked a bottle at random and actually peeled up a corner of the label, revealing another label underneath.

"Put that back!" Heero snapped.

Wufei bugged his eyes out flippantly at the order, stuck the label back down, and put the bottle in its place. While he did so, Quatre completed a full circle around the shop and paused in front of the dusty cash register. "Shouldn't there be someone at the counter if they're trying to make it look like a place of business?"

"When people get complacent, they get sloppy," Heero explaining, knowing that he had been guilty of the same offence, on and off. "There could be countless additional levels more important than this one, and the shop will likely always be low priority."

"I'll go along with that," Duo said, swiping a finger across one shelf and picking up a good pinchful of dust. "They sure don't care enough about it to clean it."

Heero took a sweeping glance around the room, nodding. "Nevertheless, I'm convinced this is what we're looking for. Let's get to work."

**********  
  


Around lunchtime, someone rang the corroded, off-key bell on the counter of the wine shop, and in response, a twelve-year-old boy wearing a white apron over his poor, tattered clothes emerged from somewhere in the back of the shop. He found three customers there. Two appeared to be a young couple with their backs turned, studying the selection of wine bottles on the shelf. They looked fairly ordinary, a man with short hair and a woman with long hair, but the boy didn't think much of them, as he had another customer right up at the front counter, a grown-up boy with feathery blond hair.

"Bonjour!" the grown-up greeted him cheerily. The young boy returned the greeting timidly and was hit with a barrage of questions in French, about everything from the varying quality of grapes picked at different times of the year to what went better with poached fish, red or white.

While the boy in the apron struggled to come up with answers to the lengthy pop quiz, the young 'couple' with their backs turned started to organize themselves. Duo had unravelled his hair, tucked his trousers into his boots, and borrowed Heero's long overcoat to disguise himself as much as possible. Knowing how wonderfully ordinary they looked to a young lad who really couldn't tell the minute differences, they busied themselves with preparing a surprise for him. Moving as little and as slowly as possible, Heero folded his linen handkerchief in half and half again, while Duo took out the little bottle of chloroform Sally had procured for them on the quiet, and opened it.

Quatre kept the lad very busy, so he didn't notice the couple splitting up, with the man moving closer to the cash register and the woman wandering closer to the 'employees only' area behind the counter. Outside the building, Wufei gave Heero the 'all-clear' signal using only a subtle eye movement that could just barely be viewed through the front window. Heero passed the signal on to Duo, and Duo scooted right through the gap in the counter towards the back of the shop, where he clearly wasn't supposed to be. Naturally, the boy in the apron turned around to exercise his limited authority on the intruder, and as soon as he did, Heero pulled him back by his tiny shoulder and pressed the doctored handkerchief over his nose and mouth. He went out like a light.

Quatre dashed behind the counter to break the lad's fall. "He looks so young and helpless!" he whispered. "Are you sure we ought to leave him here with these people?"

"If we removed him, his punishment would be worse than simply for letting up get by him," Heero answered, "and on top of that, we'd have to shelter him practically until Cinq is disbanded. They send him into town every day, he has plenty of opportunity to defect if he wants to try."

Wufei came in from the cold, rubbing his hands together. "No one around outside."

"No one in the back, either," Duo said, already re-braiding his hair, "but there's a locked door."

Heero briefly searched the servant boy's person and came up with a small ring with two keys on it, presumably, one for the front door and one for the back. Quatre helped him deposit the lad someplace inconspicuous, after which Heero started doling out instructions. "These are your department," he said, handing the keys to Duo, "and you two, go through that miniature forest to the back of the building and look for an alternate way in."

"Right," Quatre and Wufei said in unison, and they went out the front door together.

Duo gave back the borrowed overcoat, freshly braided, and quickly unlocked the back door to the shop area. It led into a darkened room with miscellaneous storage space and not a lot to look at, except the cot where the servant boy slept. The floor was wooden and creaked slightly when they moved, so it was an exercise in balance as the pair scrunched up close together and stepped lightly in perfect time with each other, in case someone was listening. They reached an equally creaky set of stairs going down, and at the bottom, they eventually found a narrow landing and a door with a little sliding panel at eye level, all just barely discernable by the flame of Heero's lighter.

"You had a good, long listen to his voice?" he whispered.

"Yeah, I think I got it."

"Alright. When we tap on the door, you're going to tell whoever's on the other side that the people in the shop want to speak to the manager. Tell them these words exactly..." Heero extinguished his lighter and whispered a sentence in Duo ear, often enough that he could memorize it. Duo had previously displayed a remarkable talent for parroting voices and accents, particularly when quoting Helen, which was what earned him this assignment.

When Duo was sure he could repeat the phrase in something very close to the young boy's voice, he rapped on the door. Half a minute later, the little wooden panel opened, and a gravelly, beer-soaked voice snarled out at him. "Quoi?"

"Les gens veulent parler au gérant," Duo squeaked.

The gravelly voice grumbled, then slapped the window shut and slid a heavy-sounding deadbolt out of its housing. Following the plan, Duo stepped away from the door and Heero stepped forward, waiting for the door to open. When it did, the unshaven ball of brawn on the other side didn't even get a chance to blink before Heero dragged him out by the shirt collar and rendered him unconscious with two swift blows to the cranium. Two other men inside heard the scuffle and rushed over to join in, but the youngsters made short work of them.

No other assailants appeared, and by the light of a borrowed lantern, the rest of the basement floor was revealed to be empty. In a separate room, more bright lanterns illuminated a kind of gaming area, where the men were playing cards for money, and smoking like chimneys. Still, it wasn't terribly suspicious, and they almost called off the investigation, until a second stairwell was discovered in a dark corner, and another landing with a locked door.

After retrieving the mens' keys, Duo and Heero descended not one but _three_ more levels, until they reached a door of solid metal. Unlocking that door revealed an eerie world of concrete walls, electric lights, and stern signage in French, carrying a translation of Lord Jeffrhyss' five-line poem about order and obedience. There was no question that they were in the right place, though it called into question Heero's assumption that archival bases moved frequently about the world. This was obviously a permanent establishment.

"What do we do now?" Duo whispered, standing slightly behind his team leader.

Heero's mind was abuzz with all the things they needed to know; reconnaissance on the other members of the Cinq Association, the location of their next major financial meeting, maybe even inside information of Jeffrhyss' next move. Every piece of valuable information was saved indefinitely, and as the boys could have been discovered at any moment, the first decision made was to start ducking into doors.

Or at least, that's what they would have done had there _been_ any doors to duck into. The place seemed to be nothing but corridors, and they were almost caught twice when a pair of gray-clad guards walked past. Soon they were lost, since every corridor looked the same. Neither one was sure what to do, until another set of approaching footsteps sent them diving for cover once again...but the footsteps didn't sound the same. They weren't sharp and crisp like those of the guards, but soft and heavy, shuffling.

A thick shadow passed their hiding place. Duo and Heero leaned out from around the corner and saw an old, doddering man walking away with something tucked under his arm, a big brown envelope stuffed with papers. No one else was around, and the man seemed to know where he was going, so they crept along behind him, on tip-toe.

It was a slow journey, and several times the man stopped and leaned against the wall as if he was in pain. The boys were torn over whether or not to help him, but ended up following him all the way to a heavy wooden door, which the old man pushed through. The boys went through as well and shut the door with a clunk that the balding gentlemen didn't seem to hear as he plodded up to the most mind-boggling sight the boys had ever seen. A great warehouse stretched before them, with sky-high metal shelves full of identical steel-handled document boxes. Long strings of electric bulbs hung overhead, and a coal-fired generator hummed in the corner, supplying the electricity and pumping black smoke through a wide pipe to some unknown location. Most daunting of all was the sheer number of document boxes, which, if they were all full, must have contained millions of tantalizing pages.

Off to the left, the old man sat down to catch his breath, and even that seemed to be a chore. He had a bald spot, a moth-eaten burgundy cardigan, and a prominent belly, all combining to create a totally non-threatening and pitiful image. The boys were so puzzled and dazed that they didn't notice right away when the old man looked directly at them, and beckoned.

Numbly, they padded forward, and as they neared the old man in his chair, he pointed to an object on his wobbly wooden desk that was just out of reach. "Apportez-moi...la bouteille..." Each word was an effort that left him gasping slightly, although he seemed entirely at peace with it.

Heero obediently took the small glass bottle off the desk and handed it to him. The old man shook two small white pills out into his hand and swallowed them dry, tapping a fist against his chest to help them along. He looked up at Heero with gratitude, and something else, too. "Je vous connais..."

Duo looked back and forth between them, then slapped Heero in the arm. "Don't keep it to yourself!"

"He says...he knows me," Heero exhaled, his eyes latched onto the old man in surprise and confusion.

The gentleman opened a drawer just behind him and to his left, took out a wide, flat ledger book, opened it to a particular page, and held it up in front of Heero, pointing to a line. "Là...en haut," he said, pointing weakly to one of the tall metal shelving units.

Heero took the book and read the indicated line intensely, then walked briskly down the aisle between the shelves, looking up. He stopped to read the numbers on the document boxes, dim and receding though they were, and compared them to the numbers in the book. "Go grab me that ladder would you?"

Without asking questions, Duo jogged past Heero twenty yards or so to where a ladder on wheels was attached to the row of shelves. He pushed off and rode on the bottom step, rolling right up to Heero's side; Heero handed him the book and scrambled up the ladder, carefully retrieving the box the old man was directing him to. The boys quickly brought the box back to the desk and were about to open it, while the old man watched and nodded. "Il m'a dit...de brûler tous, mais..." He shrugged weakly.

The words sparked even more curiosity in Heero. _...told him to burn it all? Who told him? Jeffrhyss?_

Suddenly, an alarm bell rang, making all three of them jump. Out in the hall, seeping in through the closed door, came a violent clanging, a clear indicator that something was very wrong. "They know we're here," Duo decided.

"We'll never get out the way we came in now."

"Even if we knew which way that _was_."

Heero looked again at the generator in the corner. The coal fumes and thick black smoke had to be venting _somewhere_ outdoors, or else everyone in the base would suffocate. He turned back to the old man whom he had guessed was a records keeper. "Est-ce qu'il y'a une autre sortie?" he asked quickly.

Behind the old man's tired brown eyes, he seemed to understand that the boys were the cause of the alarm, but to him, it mattered little. He intended to do something noble with the time he had left. "...à gauche...à côté des plantes.....déplacez la bibliothèque."

Heero ran to the gentleman's left, and in the far corner was a little area he had set up to grow some potted plants. There were racks and racks of them, planted in buckets, boots, and anything else that was available, warmed by a battery of lamps. A bookcase next to the vertical garden held some gardening books written in French. There were rather suspicious scrape marks on the floor in front of the bookcase.

Back at the desk, Duo was becoming increasingly worried, about the continuing alarm bells, and about the state of the old records keeper. He kept pressing a hand to his chest, wincing, and he wasn't breathing very easily. Duo crouched next to him, and though he didn't speak a word of French, he tried nevertheless to be a comforting presence. "Hey...you're okay, aren't you? Just a little indigestion, right?" he said, putting a hand on his arm.

The old man looked down and smiled kindly, patting the hand in a grandfatherly way. He then sank his chin into his chest and almost looked like he was asleep. Feeling an awful chill, Duo slid his hand down to the man's wrist, encircling it and pressing lightly on the veins. There was a pulse, but it was weak, and erratic. The records keeper was not long for this world.

If that wasn't bad enough, Duo smelled smoke. A moment later, he _saw_ smoke, billowing under the door at a slow and steady pace. Frantic shouting joined the persistent ringing of bells, and in a slight panic, Duo grabbed the document box and ran over to where Heero appeared to be moving a bookcase. "I hope you've got good news over here, 'cause there's a minor emergency happening out there!"

"Are the guards trying to get in?"

"Only if the guards are fire-breathing dragons!"

Heero saw the smoke and bristled, clenching and unclenching his hands rapidly as he shuffled his feet. "Alright." He turned around and showed Duo his discovery, a hole in the wall where the bookcase once stood. The old man had chipped through the concrete and dragged out clumps of dirt with a long-handled hoe, using the excess soil for his plants to cleverly disguise his years-long attempt to escape. It became obvious that the poor fellow was one more of Jeffrhyss' unwilling workers, just as Heero had been. Using longer and longer poles attached to the hoe, he had carved out a long, narrow tunnel, but years of sedentary living had expanded his waistline to the point where he could no longer fit through, causing him to give up. "It doesn't go all the way through to the outside, but it's our only chance."

"What about this stuff?" Duo asked, nodding at the box he still carried.

"Let's have a look at it."

The box landed on a worktable, and the lid was torn off. There was no way they could drag the entire box up the tunnel with him, but it at least deserved a quick look inside to see what the old man intended them to have. Stuffed neatly into the box were piles of paper stood up on their sides and packed tight, interspersed with books and file folders sticking up at different heights. Randomly, the boys started pulling out papers, and a shock struck them both at the same instant; Heero's name was everywhere. They were documents of his entire life history with Jeffrhyss, detailing every stage of his mental and physical development.

Heero was stunned. There was his whole existence, in black and white. Time was too short to sift through the morass, and yet he didn't want to leave even one scrap behind. He wanted to know who he was, and the answer might have been in that box.

"This is incredible," Duo gasped. "This whole page is nothing but your height and weight, taken at three-month intervals...and this one has the marks on all your math tests!"

"We can't take it all...but I don't know what to throw away!"

"Just start stuffing things in your clothes and we'll _wear_ them out of here!"

The smoke was getting thicker at the other end of the warehouse, but the boys tried not to panic as they tucked their pant legs into their winter boots and hurriedly loaded themselves up with great handfuls of paper. As the box slowly emptied, many things had to be turned down, such as large textbooks on advanced chemistry and psychology that once made up Heero's lesson curriculum. Still, Duo had a quick flip through each one in case there was something tucked between the paper, and when he got to an inch-thick black book that was wider and taller than all the others, his eyes ballooned to double their size. There wasn't time to tell Heero what was in the big black book, and he wasn't sure if he _could_ tell him without choking and blushing, but he'd be damned if he was going to leave it behind. He jammed it into his belt at the back and prayed that it wouldn't make a run for it.

When Duo finally looked up, Heero had stopped everything and was staring down into the back corner of the box. He looked pale, and Duo grasped his shoulder with concern. "What's wrong?"

Something in the box, some dim shadow from the past, had wrapped its icy hand around Heero's throat. A glint of orange paralysed every bit of him except one arm, which reached down into the box and pulled out a strange object made of cloth. As the object saw the light for the first time in years, it seemed to sigh with relief. It was a little stuffed tiger, orange and cream and black, made of baby-soft cloth with a little blue bow around his neck. His shiny obsidian eyes smiled up at Heero, though the cat-like muzzle remained serene and still. Heero turned the tiger over and over in his hands, feeling the lovingly hand-stitched fur and the long striped tail, and at last, a long-forgotten name sprang to his lips, little more than a whisper. "....._Shimamoyou-san_..."

Duo leaned back and blinked. "Come again?"

As the memory became clearer, Heero squeezed the tiger tight, pawing it, stroking it, and inhaling its musty scent. Not caring how he looked at that moment, he pressed the animal to his mouth and sighed out a translation for Duo. "Mister Stripey."

Sweet and strange though the scene was, Duo felt it could wait. "Heero, there's no _time_ for this! Wrap him up, and let's go!" He turned around to check on the old man, but the smoke had obscured him almost completely. He should have been coughing violently, but he didn't even move. "Oh God...I don't think he's breathing."

"We can't help him," Heero spat bitterly, coming to his senses and stuffing the tiger safely into his inside coat pocket. "Leave the rest!" He shoved the box aside, grabbed two small hand tools from the vertical garden, a trowel and a claw, let Duo take his pick, and helped him clamber into the tunnel first. The old man had wisely attached a strap to the back of the bookcase, which would have enabled him to pull it flush against the wall once he was in the tunnel, but sadly, Heero knew he would never use it now. He climbed in after Duo and pulled the bookcase back into his place, moments before the door burst open and gray-clad workers began securing the warehouse area against the fire.

It was pitch black in the tunnel, and the air was stale. The floor sloped gently upwards, but the circular walls were uneven, and jabbed the boys randomly as they crawled on their bellies, scraping up even more dirt and carrying it with them. The papers in their clothes crinkled with their movements, and the only other sound was the occasional cough brought on by thick organic particulate in the air. No one in the warehouse had detected the tunnel, or the strange scrape marks in front of the bookcase, so they were safe for the moment, but they couldn't go back, and there was no way to know how far they could go forward. If they weren't able to finish the tunnel, they would be buried alive.

After a crawl of at least fifty yards, Duo stopped. "End of the line," he gasped. Propping himself up on one elbow, he took out the gardening claw and began attacking the soil in front of him, periodically shoving the dirt clods down to Heero, who pushed them down even further while widening the tunnel with the trowel. In the space of what felt like an hour, they managed to whittle another three feet, at which point they needed some serious inspiration to keep going. Duo prayed hard, and almost immediately, his garden claw hit metal.

"What was that!?" Heero called up to him.

Duo was already frantically uncovering the object, which wasn't so much in front of him as it was slightly above him. "It feels like a pipe! ...it's warm, too!"

"That's the vent for the generator!" Heero shouted with the first real enthusiasm either one had heard for a long time. "Follow it! It _has_ to end up outside!"

Renewed in faith, Duo kept digging around the pipe, and before long, he poked a hole into the daylight, which streamed in around his mud-caked face. "_I got it_!!" he hollered, scraping faster and faster until a six-inch wide patch of white clouds and sky blazed through. The digging accelerated until Duo was able to squeeze through, and as soon as he did, he disappeared with a little yelp.

Heero had stopped every inch to check his interior pocket, making sure the little tiger was still safely inside, and was right on Duo's heels as he squirmed through the hole next. The reason for Duo's yelp became apparent when Heero felt a sharp drop on the other side; the tunnel emptied out on the downslope of a steep but grassy hill, and both boys went tumbling over and over, scattering papers across the landscape, until landing in a collective heap at the bottom. They wheezed in the fresh air flat on their backs for a long time, but forced themselves to climb at least partway back up, to retrieve every last scrap they had dropped. Now there was more paper outside their clothes than inside, and after gathering up a hefty armload apiece, they went running around the base of the hill and up a longer, shallower slope through the trees until they were back where they started, in front of Le Château Pignon.

Not a moment later, Quatre came running out of the trees on the other side of the property, spied the very mucky pair at a distance, and yelled to his right, "I found them!" Wufei came jogging up after him, and they both approached Heero and Duo who looked too worn out to explain why they were covered in dirt from head to foot. The four of them began walking as quickly as they were able back to the village, where they didn't intend to stay one minute more. France hadn't been very good to them on their first visit, and they would be glad to see the back of it.

**********  
  


"...so that was when they found us," Wufei explained on the ferry back to England. He and Quatre had each collected a pile of paper after finding a nice, clean ventilation shaft to crawl into the base through, and there wasn't so much as a scratch on them. "I'd taken one of those wine bottles with me, obviously you didn't notice...and when we were cornered by the guards, it came in quite handy."

"Came in handy?" Quatre griped at his erstwhile partner. "I thought you were just going to throw it at them! If I'd known you were going to turn it into a fire-bomb, I would never hav--"

"Oh, fire-bomb, minor diversion, what's the difference!?" Wufei squawked back. "I had to sacrifice one of the papers we picked up to suffice as a fuse, but it was worth it."

Heero glared his most blood-curdling glare at Wufei. "You started a fire in an enclosed space knowing the two of _us_ were still somewhere in it?"

Wufei shrugged. "You two were taking forever, and we were cornered! It was better to use what weapons we had rather than be captured, and there was no real harm done, right?" He received no reply. "Right??"

"I oughta smack you," Duo snarled. "If there hadn't been a fire, we might've been able to get out through the front door instead of dragging my poor braid through half a mile of rocks, dirt, and sludge! Do you know how long it takes this stuff to dry once it's been washed? Pretty darn long, I can tell you that!" He picked a particularly large clump of dirt out of his hair and flicked it at Wufei, causing a cascade of forgiving laughter to overcome the group. They couldn't stay mad at each other for very long these days.

The rest of the way back to England, bathed in red light by the setting sun, they all shared details about their harrowing encounters inside the base, all except Heero, who stood apart from them on the deck. He leaned over the railing and took the little stuffed tiger out of his coat pocket. The animal seemed no worse for the journey, and appeared grateful to be out of that wretched box. Heero stared endlessly at it, struggling with feelings of familiarity and loss. In time, Duo came to stand next to him, and took a giant gulp of the salty air before prodding his friend for details. "So, what's with that thing?"

Heero shook his head slowly. "I'm trying to remember...it feels like...like I lost it a long time ago. That old man was told to burn something...probably everything I had with me when I fell into Jeffrhyss' hands. This would have been put in the incinerator years ago if he hadn't saved it for me..."

"You mean...that's one of your toys? From when you were a kid?"

"I think he must have been," Heero whispered, cradling the tiger in both hands. The gaps in his memory were evident in his eyes, but as he studied the stuffed toy more closely, he noticed a detail that triggered another vision of the past. He gently untied the blue ribbon around the tiger's throat, and a pocket opened at the back of its neck. There was something crammed inside. Heero pulled out first a scrap of cloth, midnight blue embroidered with swirling geometric patterns of white and gold, and a bit of rice paper, rolled up with some elegantly brushed characters on it. Duo leaned over to look, but couldn't make heads or tails of it, until Heero read the characters aloud in a trembling voice. "...'Remember always.'"

But that was exactly the point. He didn't remember, though he wanted to, very badly. There really _was_ an identity hiding behind his firmly engrained mission directives, a history, a heritage...and perhaps even a family. The little stuffed tiger might have held the answers Heero needed to feel whole, but first he had to learn how to listen.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


_Next, in Episode Sixty-Nine: Christmas time at the Manor just isn't the same as it was in years past, as the servants find out when the money supply runs low. Marcus thinks he knows why Relena ran away, after overhearing something he shouldn't have._

Oh gosh. I cannot apologize enough for this being late. Darnit, I never wanted to work overtime, I _specifically_ told my boss I couldn't work overtime this weekend! =;_;= Oh well...hopefully, not too many people noticed. *shuffles feet* Aaaaanywho...hope it was worth the wait! =^_^= I've got December 24th marked down for the next eppy, and come hell or high water, it's gonna be out on time, but hey, if you've got family stuff to do, go on and spend time with them, ok? Bridlewood can always wait, but you never know how long your family's gonna be there.


	69. Crossed Wires

**Warnings:** Porn. =o.o= Don't look at me like that.

**Disclaimer:** I know, from traipsing through every store, mall, and boutique in the Greater Toronto Area, that nobody has Gundam pilots for sale. I even offered to pay retail instead of the supposed sale price, but they still said no. Therefore, I cannot possibly own these magnificent examples of manhood, or the chicks they hang out with. Do not sue me. I have no money except that miniscule amount reserved for presents.

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Sixty-Nine: Crossed Wires

_"Whenever I'm caught between two evils I always take the one I've never tried before." __[sic]_ ~Mae West 

December 24th, 1902

Many days' examination of the information brought back from France yielded some answers, but mostly questions. While Duo and Heero had retrieved a greater volume of material, the papers gathered by Quatre and Wufei pertained more closely to Hassan and Cinq's yearly schedule, and were therefore deemed more pressing for evaluation. Several days in a row, the team gathered in their reserved meeting room at Catharine's Place, poring over every scrap, and piecing together their next objective. Papers were spread out all over the heavy wooden table, making it difficult to find a place to put brunch when it finally arrived.

"You all look so serious lately," Yasmeen said as three pairs of hands quickly shuffled papers so she could put her platter of sliced fruit and cheese cubes down. "Should I assume that things aren't going well?"

"Things are going _slowly_," Trowa said with exaggerated deceleration.

"But it's better than going backwards," Quatre added in a hopeful voice. He pulled out the chair next to him for Yasmeen, and she gratefully sat down, smoothing out the white apron over her cornflower blue dress. Not long after Quatre's sisters were discovered to be working in the pub, the question had arisen over whether or not to make them privy to any of the team's secret meetings. Heero had decided, with solid support from the others, that as long as they were discussing matters that directly related to the plight of the Winner family, Yasmeen could sit in on such meetings as the girls' formal representative.

Yasmeen patted her brother's shoulder sympathetically. "I'm sure all your hard work will pay off someday, and then we can all breathe easier."

Directly across from Quatre, Wufei helped himself to a grapefruit slice and gestured to him with it. "Tell her about the boat tickets."

"Oh!" Quatre dug through the pile until he found exactly the right page, then showed it to his sister. "There's going to be an annual meeting soon, and Hassan is sure to be there. We're still not sure where it's going to be, but a lot of suspicious people have been making requisitions through the organization for tickets on a ferry. They're all being booked on a small boat company that services the Mediterranean, so knowing that, we can narrow down the area we'll have to search."

The rapid-fire explanation was in slight danger of flying right over Yasmeen's head, but she nodded politely. "You'll find your way, I know you will."

That was the conversation happening in the middle of the table. Far at one end, the girls were sharing a pot of Earl Grey and shooting the breeze without much thought to the mission, which had stalled somewhat, laying dormant until the Cinq Association's end-of-fiscal-year tally. At the other end, Duo was leaning back in a heavily-tilted chair, watching Heero with curiosity and concern. Heero was pretty much ignoring the chatter three chairs away, also tilting his chair back languidly. He was paying much more attention to the little toy tiger in his hands; it was a strangely enthralling piece of needlework, and he just couldn't tear his eyes off it.

_So weird...the way he looks at that thing,_ Duo thought. _It's like he's staring at himself as a little boy, and they're trying to figure out if they recognize each other. I hope they sort it out soon, 'cause we're gonna need grown-up Heero in the real world sooner or later._ There were other things he wanted to talk to his friend about, but lately the entire length and breadth of his concentration was being used up on the stuffed tiger, and it wasn't that easy to get through to him anymore.

"Duo? Yoo-hoo! Are you listening to me?"

Having become what he mocked, unresponsive and wrapped up in his own thoughts, Duo looked up quickly to greet the sight of Hilde's waving arm growing up out of the other end of the table. Reality slapped him across the face and forced him to snap out of it. "Huh?"

Hilde sneered and smiled at the same time, while Lucrezia and Sally giggled to either side of her. "I _said_, do you think we'll have snow in time for tomorrow?"

"Oh...nah, probably not. I mean, there were a few flakes this morning, but they melted as soon as they hit the ground. Our luck, it'll be drizzling for the next two weeks."

"Aww..." Hilde slouched sadly. "It doesn't really feel like Christmas without even a _little_ layer of fluffy white stuff."

"You should be more concerned with being fed," Wufei scoffed. "If the rest of you were smart, you'd rent rooms _here_ instead of roughing it in that cold, empty mansion. At least in a pub, you always know where your next meal is coming from."

"Sure, rub it in!" Duo snarled with a half-smile. They all knew the manor's supplies were running dangerously low, and it was becoming a running gag that commoners were able to eat better than the servants of the aristocracy. "But I'll tell you something for nothing, I doubt that any other chef in this town could've done so well with so little! Yesterday, I talked a shop owner into giving me a twenty-five percent discount off half a dozen boxes of Walker's shortbread that had the corners all dented up. If living on the streets teaches you nothing else, it's how to find a bargain."

Lucrezia didn't like to be a snob, but even she was taken aback. "Is that all we've got? Shortbread?"

Various other voices of doom chimed in. "No pudding with brandy?"

"No pumpkin pie with whipped cream?"

"No Christmas goose?"

Duo un-tilted his chair and threw his hands up in defence. "Hey, _hey_! What kind of amateur do you take me for!? We've got a goose!" He shrank a little, looking quickly from one pair of desolate eyes to another. "Or to be more accurate...a duck..." He shrank a little further. "Half a duck."

A chorus of groans resounded, followed by whining, followed by mild arguments, all of which wafted around Heero's ears unnoticed. In another time, he would have quickly taken control of the meeting before it turned into a shouting match, but corralling his teammates was farthest from his mind as he continued to gaze hypnotically into the glossy obsidian eyes of his stuffed tiger. The animal was silently telling him how unimportant the petty disagreements were, and to ignore them. By the time he finally looked up, half of his team had stood up and were putting their coats on.

"...as much as we _can_ do, anyway, so there's not much point."

"Yeah, might as well be unproductive at home, huh?"

Heero looked blankly at them, and they all sort of ground to a halt as they realized there had been no official adjournment. Only Duo was still seated, and he tapped Heero on the shoulder. "You'd look pretty silly sleeping in that chair overnight, or are you interested in going home too?"

Hiding a slightly flustered state, Heero crammed the tiger into his front coat pocket, in the absence of a handkerchief, and stood. "Right. Let's clear this junk out of here."

Everyone grabbed a handful of papers and marched the lot over to Wufei's room, where they were locked away safely until the next meeting. No matter how much the others persisted, however, Wufei couldn't be persuaded to follow them back to the manor and partake in whatever meagre Christmas celebrations they could muster. Yasmeen went back to her work, Hilde gave Wufei a smile and a twiddly wave over her shoulder when no one was looking, and seven people made their way out of the pub and into the cold.

Mindful of the fact that they were short on cash, especially after what the foray to France had cost, the boys opted to be little gentlemen and let the girls have the only carriage they could afford. They kept warm during the long walk back by cracking the occasional joke and stopping to peer into joyously-decorated store windows. It was mostly Duo and Trowa making all the fuss over Christmas; Quatre and Heero felt somewhat detached from it all, but were content to tag along for the ride, for whatever was good for their friends must have been good for them as well.

They were hitching rides with all sorts of merchants to get home sooner, perching on the running boards of any horse and cart that cared to help them, and they made it back a little after lunch, where the mood wasn't much cheerier than it was in the pub. The housemaids were all moaning about how dead and drab it was around the manor, and Hilde was only too glad to separate from them long enough to welcome the boys. "Hope you don't mind," she said while they hung up their coats, "but we've already been nibbling away at lunch. We did our best to save you something, but the pantry's almost empty, and..."

"Tell me about it," Duo moaned. "I've got to borrow vegetables from Arthur _again_ or we won't have a decent supper tonight."

Elsie passed by on her way to somewhere with a depressingly droopy dustrag and added her complaints to the communal pot. "It's a dark day for Bridlewood, it is...the first Christmas in livin' mem'ry when we ain't had a tree."

As she left, the five teens in the foyer all slouched sadly. Despite their differing views on Christmas itself, the contrast against last year's celebration was disheartening. A year ago, the house was filled with people and music. Fine foods and mistletoe abounded, and the champagne had flowed freely. Now the ticking of the grandfather clock echoed through the vacant halls like a death knell.

Trowa wasn't about to stand for it. Infuriated by their misfortune, his mind began churning out plans, and his eagle eyes searched fervently for materials. He moved a little bit to the left of the stairs, and in a niche opposite the door to the parlour, there was an old, disused hat stand made of wood, about six feet tall with four pegs jutting out at the top. He got an idea. "Quat..."

Quatre stepped closer, increasingly curious. "Hm?"

"Run and grab me that hand drill from the carriage house, and the tin of augers that go with it. And Hilde, you go tell the housemaids to round up all the broomhandles in the house, and go through all the closets and pick out everything that's green."

A cascade of overlapping 'why's chased Trowa as he walked swiftly to the hat stand and examined it closely. "Even aboard ship, we _always_ had a Christmas tree, even if it was a pile of twigs slapped together with pitch." He glared indignantly at the others. "We are _going_ to have a tree!"

They were all confused, but the flames in Trowa's eyes scared them away from questioning further.

"You know what?" Hilde said finally, after Quatre scampered away to fetch the drill. "He's right! Instead of wallowing in self-pity, we should be making the best of things." She poked Heero and Duo in a shoulder apiece. "Why don't you two go up to the attic and dig out some decorations?"

Duo shrugged off-handedly. "Sure, why not?" They started for the stairs, but another comment from Hilde halted them.

"You better put the little guy away, though," she said, reaching out and patting the head of the tiger in Heero's breast pocket. "It's awfully dusty up there."

"He'll feel right at home," Heero said, taking the tiger out and giving him a little shake. Some oversized dust particles fell off and glided gently to the floor like new-fallen snow.

Hilde thought for a moment, then held out her hand. "Why don't you let me clean him up for you?"

Heero stared with a surprised and slightly defensive look. "Can you do that?"

"Oh, sure, I've been in the laundry business long enough that I know how to clean anything." She smiled and took the tiger from him, brushing off some more dust. "He's cute. Where'd you get him?"

Both boys clammed up in a hurry. They felt equally that the contents of Heero's file were a private matter, but Heero couldn't stop himself from carrying the tiger around with him, so he should have expected such questions. Still, it was reasonably safe to let the animal go for a little while, for Heero had removed the scrap of embroidered cloth and the short message on rice paper long ago. "It was a gift," he said finally.

"Well, don't you worry," Hilde reassured him. "He'll be good as new in a little while." She carried the tiger away and resolved to brighten up his fur just as soon as she carried out Trowa's request. In the meantime, Trowa and the hat stand had both disappeared, and with nothing left to keep them in the foyer, Duo and Heero headed up three flights of stairs to the attic, their old home. Shadow sniffed them out as they passed the second floor, and followed them, eager to play.

"I don't have a clue where anything is, so I hope you remember." Duo remarked as they approached the blackness of the storage room.

Heero lit a nearby lantern and waded into the sea of trunks and boxes. "Somewhere on the left," he conjectured.

_Good,_ Duo thought. He had hidden something off to the right, and he wanted to keep it hidden, for the moment.

Things went smoothly for the first half hour; the pair pulled out several boxes of tinsel and garlands, stacking them in the hall as they worked. Then Shadow found something she had never smelled before, and thought it quite interesting. She meowed and pawed at the object which was nestled in the far right corner of the storage room. Both boys looked up.

"Shadow?" Heero called out, stepping gingerly towards the sound. "Come out of there before you get stuck."

Duo calculated Shadow's position based on the meows, saw Heero closing in on the spot, and cringed. _No no no no..._

As Heero crouched next to the cat with the lantern held high over her head, he saw what she could easily see in the dark--a wide, inch-thick black book. He picked it up and stood just as Duo stumbled over a steamer trunk to stop him from opening it. "C'mon, we've got enough stuff, let's go," the chef blurted.

"This wasn't here before," Heero said curiously. "I would have seen it when I built my wall safe." He set the lantern down on a tall stack of boxes and started to open the book, but Duo snatched it away.

"You don't wanna look at that."

"It's yours?" Heero asked innocently.

"Uh...I sorta...found it," Duo said, wrapping his arms around the book protectively.

Heero found Duo's sudden cas e of nerves rather intriguing, and held back a smirk as he stepped closer. "Well, what's the big secret?"

"Nothing, seriously."

"Then why won't you let me look?" The smirk grew as he started making playful grabs for the book, which Duo fended off with one arm.

"Get off!"

"First, let me see!"

"Hands to yourself, Grabby!"

A brief struggle ensued, with lots of pinching, tickling, and various other forms of horseplay, until Duo was overcome and loosened his grip. With a triumphant 'Hah!', Heero ripped the book away and opened it somewhere in the middle while Duo winced and Shadow meowed. As the contents of the pages shot through Heero's eyes and into his brain, he froze, and felt the back of his neck getting hot as he instantly understood why Duo was so mortified at the prospect of the book's discovery.

The pages were full of photos.

The photos were full of people.

The people were all very busy, and their clothing was conspicuous by its absence.

Heero slapped the book shut, his eyes bulging, and slowly turned to face a blushing and cowering Duo. "_Where_ did this come from?" he demanded in a shocked whisper.

Duo was twisting his braid in both hands, and though the light from the lantern was growing dim, he had absolutely no trouble being impaled on Heero's piercing eyes. He swallowed. "In...a box."

Heero looked around. There were hundreds of boxes in storage. That didn't exactly narrow it down. "Which box?"

"Not here. Uh...it was....." He swallowed again. "...at the base."

They had only opened one box between them at the archival base, and it has Heero's name all over it. "_This_...was in _my_ file!?"

Slowly, Duo nodded. "I didn't know whether to tell you about it or not, 'cause.....well, come _on_, how could I!?"

It was a valid question, and one they had no answer to. Sucked in by morbid curiosity, they inched towards each other and creaked the book back open, no longer pretending that they didn't want to know what was inside. Page after page full of unashamedly titillating images was flipped, and the further they delved into the big black book, the more lurid the pictures became. About halfway through, they shifted from being one man and one woman in _flagrante delicto_ to multiple combinations of the same, threesomes, foursomes, and so on. The book was an all-purpose, all-weather sex manual, and nobody knew about it but them.

Several more page-turns later, Heero slapped the book shut again, and the boys moved apart, looking away from each other and wiping their brows. "Well...there's only one rational explanation for this," Heero gasped analytically.

Duo had already guessed the book's purpose, and graciously saved Heero the agony of speaking it aloud. "That was the, uh..._textbook_ your teachers were using...when you and Frenchy were..."

"Exactly." Heero didn't want to look, but he was willing to bet that the first several pages perfectly matched the early lessons he had been given on how to talk a woman right out of her corset. Several moments of thick silence followed, during which there was no meeting of eyes whatsoever. "We, um... probably shouldn't leave it where anybody can find it," he stammered eventually, "and I must say, I'm surprised at you for keeping it around even _this_ long." He was about to suggest that they lock the book up in his wall safe, but Duo didn't give him a chance, grabbing the dark treasure and heading for the door with it.

"We'll hide it in our room!" the chef whispered, totally ignoring Heero's judgemental tone on the last remark. That was what he had wanted to do from the beginning, of course, but he had been too nervous to risk the other boy stumbling across it.

Heero wasn't sure if he liked that idea, but it happened too fast to argue with. He scooped up the lantern in one hand and Shadow in the other, and tore down the stairs after his companion. When he made it to their room, Duo was clutching the book fiercely and wandering around, looking for a secure hiding place. The door was shut and locked immediately.

"Maybe in the...no...oh, how about...nah...under the...no, wait..." Duo mumbled frantically and couldn't think straight, until he saw Shadow jump up on their bed, which gave him a brain wave that lit up his face like a firecracker. "Got it!" He dove down to his knees next to the bed, on the opposite side from where Heero was standing, and plunged one hand under the mattress. "Aha! Plenty of room!"

This time, Heero cringed. _No no no no..._ "I don't think that's such a good idea. How about under the wardrobe instead?"

"Nah, this'll be way easier once I..." Still with one arm being crushed under the mattress, Duo's face went blank with confusion. He slowly pulled his arm out, and at the end of it was _another_ book, a smallish hardcover. "What the..."

Heero put out the lantern and crawled right overtop of the bed to make a grab for the smaller book. "Duo, I think you should put that back. Whoever put it there might come back for it someda--"

"Hold on, it can't have been there all _that_ long, it looks brand new!" Duo squawked, brimming with fresh curiosity and slapping Heero's hands away as he tried unsuccessfully to retrieve the small book. "...and what do _you_ know about it? What is this, anyway?" He scooted backwards and had to flip open to the first page, for there was, oddly enough, no title printed on the cover. "'Fanny Hill'?"

Heero glared.

Duo shrugged from the neck up. "Never heard of it...gotta wonder what else is under there, though."

"Oh, no you don't!" Heero launched himself off the bed and tackled Duo with a tiger-like roar, and they both went tumbling across the floor into another wrestling match, this one tougher than the first. Shadow was torn between joining in and giving up her warm spot on the bed, so she just licked her paws while they fought. Duo pulled off a stunning move that actually flipped Heero over on his back, but he grabbed ahold of Duo's ankle and kept him from reaching the bed. He crawled up a little more and grabbed his opponent's braid, immobilizing him further, but Shadow jumped down, finally wanting to play, and Duo grabbed her, held her up with one hand and dangled her paws an inch away from Heero's upturned face.

"Claws!" Duo shouted as a warning. "Truce?"

Heero growled, but he was beaten. "Truce."

They set Shadow down and scooted up to lean against the bed side by side, huffing and puffing, and Duo gasped out his demands victoriously. "Alright...see what else...you've got squirrelled away in here..." It was easily surmised that the mysterious little book was hidden there by Heero, but Duo had yet to fathom was all the hubbub was about. He reached back under the mattress, and following 'Fanny Hill' came 'Leaves of Grass,' Boccaccio's 'Decameron', and 'The Fortunes and Misfortunes of the Famous Moll Flanders,' none of which Duo recognized. He casually picked up 'Moll Flanders' and started flipping through it. "Okay, I _know_ these are yours, or you wouldn't have gone all nuts on me, but what's the bi--"

On some random page, Duo _saw_ what the big deal was, and his eyes ballooned. To an extent, 'Moll Flanders' contained sexual imagery quite similar to that found in the big black book, except in print rather than pictures, and heavily veiled in flowery two-hundred-year-old language. Nevertheless, it was there. "Ew!" Duo shut the book quickly and stared at Heero with a peculiar admiration. "Why, you filthy-minded little beast."

"Have you quite finished?"

Duo slung an arm around Heero's shoulders and squeezed hard, grinning maniacally. "I'm _very_ impressed, off the record. Are _all_ of these books like that?"

"To varying degrees," Heero admitted through a sigh.

"What happened to those Kipling books I got you?"

"I read them all."

"So..." Duo's grin widened as he picked up the 'Decameron' and started flipping through it as well. "...what _exactly_ are you doing with books like these under your bed, hm?"

The back of Heero's neck grew warmer still, and he felt sure that his ears were turning crimson. What was _any_ boy of seventeen or thereabouts doing with scandalously racy reading material, not one title of which could not be easily located on the government's list of banned books? "Just...looking for something I can relate to...I suppose."

Duo gazed very softly at him; the tone of voice he used revealed that he hadn't found what he was looking for, that dark, secluded corner of society capable of validating whatever he was feeling, whatever he didn't feel ready to share with his friend. Duo was suddenly tingling all over, because the nature of all the books made it obvious what some distant part of Heero's mind was craving, and the fact that so much exposure to the carnal activities of men and women could not fill the void gave Duo hope that he might fill it himself. He glanced at the big black book and wondered if it would be helpful to open it to the small section at the back that only Duo had seen, where some pictures contained only girls, and others, more importantly, were only boys. Those pictures, plus the ever-inspiring trial transcript. might have answered a lot of questions that neither one of them had the nerve to ask.

Alas, they weren't about to find out. Someone banged on the door, and they both jumped a good six inches off the floor. "Hey! You in there? Arthur wants to know which vegetables you want from his garden! Hello?" It was Hilde's voice.

_Oh, of all times,_ Duo thought bitterly. "Yeah, hold on!" He stuffed all five books under the mattress and shoved himself back on his feet, but a firm tug on the hem of his tweed jacket stopped him from getting to the door.

Heero was looking up at him, a touch on the shameful side. "You won't tell anyone..." It was halfway between an order and a plea.

"Tell them what? That you're a normal, red-blooded kid like anyone else?" Duo smiled, then winked. "'Course not."

The chef slipped out, closing the door behind him, and Heero sighed. That certainly hadn't been one of his shining moments, but it was a relief that it was only his most trusted companion who was around to see it. A very murky, very demanding portion of his psyche had been gradually awakening, little by little over the past year or so; it told him to want things that he had never wanted before, things he couldn't understand but still knew enough about to be crushed by a giant iron weight made of shame. It was a comfort, though, that Duo reacted much the same way he had to the forbidden books--it gave Heero hope that he wasn't suffering from some mental disease.

Bored, Shadow climbed up into his lap for a cuddle, and purred thankfully when he scratched just the right spot behind her right ear. Heero looked down at the furry head and twitchy tail of his last remaining witness and raised an eyebrow. "Don't _you_ say anything either," he said, to which the cat made no reply.

**********  
  


At the lavish Wyndham estate in the green valleys of Essex, Marcus and his parents were in the middle of a very successful Christmas Eve party, which they threw every year without fail. Unfortunately, the gala was hardly a success by Marcus' standards, for he would have dearly loved to invite Relena, but that was impossible. It also seemed impossible for him to enjoy himself at his own soirée; he was sulky the entire time, despite his mother's repeated admonishments to cheer up for the sake of the other guests, and not one of the beautiful and eligible young ladies in attendance could drag him out of his chair in the corner of the hall opposite the ballroom.

At some point, one of the servants brought him a plate of food from the buffet, but he just ended up playing with the silverware, counting how many seconds he could hang a silver spoon off the end of his nose and then trying to break that record. Later on, he stole three Cox's orange pippins from the kitchen and began juggling them, developing a new trick where he would toss one apple up under his other arm, backhandedly, with the other two apples still in the air, and continue juggling without missing a beat.

He practised his art in the empty hall for a long time, listening to the revelling and merrymaking in the adjacent room with plaintive sighs. One apple stubbornly refused to obey his commands, and when he dropped it for the fourth time, he frowned, quietly muttered a vile and un-Marcus-like epithet, picked it up, chomped into it, and wandered out onto the terrace with the other two apples in his pockets.

_So Lena doesn't want to see me for Christmas. Fine. I'll just stand out here and freeze._

A gust of wind blew a good handful of snowflakes in his face, Mother Nature daring him to follow through on his threat. He sputtered and sneezed, but leaned heavily forward on the wrought iron railing decorated with swans and broad leaves, defiantly munching. _Bloody, stupid.....I hate winter. I hate the cold, and the snow, and the rain...I hate the awful grey skies.....at times like this, I think I hate England, too._

I can't possibly tell Mum and Dad how I feel...the first thing out of their mouths will be some vapid suggestion that I go have a holiday in the sun...someplace blisteringly hot where I can run out the calendar until spring. As if that's going to make everything all right. I've no doubt that there are some perfectly wonderful places to visit...but if Lena can't be with me, then what's the point? He threw his apple core dejectedly at the ground and put his head down on his folded arms. _What's the point of anything?_

He would have had the rest of the night to sulk about his situation if not for the sound of some far-off doors opening, brining intruders into his sacred melancholy. At the other end of the terrace, two portly gentlemen in top hats and winter coats had taken their cigars outside to have a puff in solitude. Their chatting and chortling disturbed Marcus greatly, as they obviously hadn't noticed anyone else around, and he was about to go unleash his temper on them both when he accidentally overheard a snippet of their conversation, and halted.

"...Peacecraft would turn over in his grave if he knew..."

Marcus twitched. They were talking about Relena's late father. _If he knew? If he knew what?_ He crept closer and hid behind a large empty planter and a stone cherub to listen further.

"...got the strangest call from her the other day."

"Oh, yes?"

"Had something to say about a fundraiser for the family."

"Indeed! I received that exact same call!"

"Did you really?"

"Why, yes! Of course, it was disguised as a sponsorship scheme for some remodelling project, but she was _clearly_ asking for money."

"Precisely! You know, Eloise and I have a sneaking suspicion that the manor is bankrupt."

"Shocking."

"Absolutely shocking."

Behind the planter, Marcus went ashen, and his fingers and toes started tingling from fright as much as the cold. _...bankrupt!? But that can't be!_

"...hasn't been the same since His Lordship passed on."

"Not likely to get any better, either..." The gentlemen wandered off and the volume of their conversation dipped until it vanished along with them.

Marcus rose slowly, struggling to collect his thoughts. The two men never used the exact words, as far as he could hear, but the implication seemed crystal clear. The Peacecraft family was broke. Suddenly everything made sense. Relena and the others had gone into hiding to rally their resources and garner support from all their friends in order to stay afloat, while simultaneously avoiding the busybodies and naysayers that populated London in such huge numbers. _But...why didn't she feel that she could come to me with her problems? And how did they go downhill so quickly?_

The party had seemed insignificant before, and it was downright useless to Marcus now. He knew he couldn't rest until he made some sort of contact with Relena's sphere of influence. Shivering, he ran back inside to grab a coat and some coins, and was worrying about the train schedules long before he shot out the back door, without breathing a word of goodbye to anyone.

**********  
  


After their sparse but satisfying dinner, Trowa made a great production of dragging everyone into the parlour before desert, to see his magnificent creation. He pushed them all out of the dining room in a big glob and ran in front of the parlour doors, oddly wearing a gray sweater instead of his usual green turtleneck. "Are you all ready to witness the unveiling of a work of art?"

"Just open the door, you fruitcake!" Duo heckled from the back.

"As you wish..." With a sweeping arm motion, Trowa unlatched the doors and swung them open with a gentle push. Inside was a surprise none of them could have imagined--a custom-made Christmas tree. It was the old hat stand from the hall, with a few major modifications. Trowa had drilled holes through the thick wooden post from the top pegs all the way down to a foot from the bottom, and then poked sawed-off broomsticks of different lengths through the holes in alternating directions, making a rather good skeletal representation of a fir tree. Draped over the makeshift branches were all the green clothes that could be found in the house, from scarves to skirts right up to Trowa's favourite turtleneck. He promised them a tree, and somehow, he delivered.

Everyone bunched up around the peculiar evergreen and congratulated him on his ingenuity, reaching out tentatively to test the strength of the branches. Only Bethany was slightly dubious. "Don't get me wrong," she said, brushing at her strawberry blonde curls, "it's lovely, an' all, but it's just a bit plain, innit? It ain't got no tinsel or nuffink."

"Well, I tried to put some glass balls on it, but the broomhandles were too big and the hangers were too small," said Trowa.

Almost immediately, Duo snapped his fingers brightly. "I've got the perfect stuff for that upstairs! Stay right here!" He ran to the parlour doors, slowed down, and turned around briefly, remembering something. "...unless, of course, anyone wants to help themselves to some shortbread from the butler's pantry."

Some playful giggles chased him out of the room, after which Doris took charge of things in a maternal way. She had everyone grab a box of decorations that had been brought down from the attic, and ten pairs of hands set to work at beautifying the parlour for their little staff party. Soon the place was glittering, and things didn't seem quite so bleak anymore. "All we need now is a good old-fashioned sing-song," Doris concluded after stepping back to admire their work.

"Well, there's the piano," Hilde said, pointing. "Anyone know what to do with it?"

"You're musical," Bethany said, prodding Quatre in the arm. "Why don't you have a go?"

Quatre smiled, but shook his head. "It's not my instrument..." He gazed at all the faces around him, and smiled wider as he picked out the one that might have been the most help. "...but I'll bet you could do it!"

Several seconds passed before Heero realized Quatre was looking at him. He even looked at the empty space behind him to make sure, and then squinted. "Me?"

"Yes, you! You've got a good ear, haven't you?"

"I...suppose so, but--"

Trowa joined the charge by slapping Heero brusquely on the shoulder. "Of course you do! That new bell-pull system you designed? Nobody could have built that but you!"

"Nobody can _unnerstand_ it but 'im," Elsie jawed bitterly from the corner.

Heero started taking a step back, unpleasantly repelled by the spotlight. "I really don't thin--"

"Oh, don't be a spoilsport," Quatre barked, dragging him by the arm over to the piano bench. "How do you know you're good at something until you try?"

Heero was forcibly plunked down onto the bench, but twisted around immediately to look up at his assailant. "I only know what different frequencies sound like in relation to each other. That doesn't make me an instrumentalist."

It was a decent argument, short and sweet, but Quatre was already unearthing books of Christmas carols from the wooden bin beside the piano. "I can show you how it works, if you'll just give me a chance..." He flattened one book up on the music stand above the keyboard and started going over the basics. "Now, this group of five lines is a staff, and that squiggly thing on the left is a treble clef, and each note has its own..."

The voices of the others blended with Quatre's as they broke off into their own little conversations. Soon, Duo returned from his jaunt up to the second floor with two little bundles in his arms. The first was Shadow, who jumped down and ran straight across to the piano, where she hopped up in Heero's lap to see what he was doing. The second bundle was a handkerchief wrapped around a familiar treasure, Duo's pretty metal watchbirds, which he pinned to the clothing on the tree with various tin picks and hat pins he had scavenged from other rooms. With the watchbirds perched on the branches and sparkling happily, the room was finally feeling warm, and the night less lonely.

In preparation for the sing-song, Arthur made a quick trip out back and returned with Quatre's violin case and an old Wheatstone concertina for himself, while Doris brought the boxes of shortbread in from the butler's pantry. They were pretty much out of liquor, save a few drops of emergency sherry, so they had to make do with water and biscuits for dessert, but few of them complained. In less than ten minutes, Heero had absorbed enough musical theory that he was able to coax a pleasing noise out of the piano, even with Shadow crawling around and almost getting in the way, and once he understood how the chords worked with the key signatures, he was actually interested in delving further. A warm fire was lit in the hearth, and everyone gathered around the piano as the trio sight-read carols from the songbook, and the rest all sang beautifully in four-part harmony.

All through the first three carols, Duo couldn't get over the sight of Heero at the piano. _Would you look at that? I had to see it to believe it...although I don't know why. After all, I've seen more evidence than anyone that Heero's actually a person instead of a set of instructions on legs. And he's doing a good job, too! I haven't heard one wrong note yet! He doesn't give himself enough credit outside working hours...but I guess that's what I'm here for._ Duo smiled around the lyrics of the song and looked at all three musicians. Only Arthur was singing and playing at the same time; Quatre and Heero were too absorbed in getting the notes right, and Heero had up to twelve times as many notes to keep track of as the others, but he actually looked as though he was enjoying himself. Duo savoured the sight, not knowing when it would happen again.

Then, without warning, a sound from the front hall cut through the second verse of 'God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.' It was the doorbell, and it brought a great thundering pause to the proceedings. Everyone looked at the parlour doors, wondering who was going to get up and answer the call. Seniority and the chain of command had been out the window for so long that nobody knew who was in charge, so it became a question of who was closest. As it turned out, Hilde was seated nearest the exit, so she got up and disappeared around the corner. 

The others practically held their breath waiting for the visitor to be announced. Some held out hope that Relena and Milliardo had come home for Christmas after all, whereas those less optimistic feared that it was a bill-collector. Hilde's disembodied exclamation soon proved them all wrong. "Oh! Come in! You must be frozen solid!" Footsteps mingled with mumbling, and a rush of cold air brought the visitor in with Hilde pushing from behind. "Look who it is, everybody!"

To the astonishment of all, Marcus entered the parlour, shivering and a bit snow-covered as he worked off his stiff leather gloves. He smiled weakly at the crowd, searching their faces for Relena's, but they all moved at once to greet him, throwing off his concentration. Everyone had a question for him, and he had twice as many for them, but everything was put on hold while they helped him peel off his chilled coat and boots, and sat him in front of the fire with the last of the emergency sherry. "I didn't mean to trouble you," he kept insisting in a weak and raspy voice.

"Don't even mention it," Hilde said, bringing a blanket from another room to wrap around him.

After a gulp or two of sherry, Marcus twisted around again, looking for any one of the short list of people he hoped to find, but found none of them, and eventually let his gaze fall on Heero. "She hasn't come back...has she?"

The others all looked down, or to the side, but Heero looked Marcus straight in the eye and delivered the news as gently as he could, shaking his head. "We haven't heard from her at all."

Elsie folded her arms and snorted a little, stepping away. "Prob'ly knows what kind of words we wanna have with 'er once she _does_ show 'er face..."

"What do you mean?" Marcus inquired, slowly standing and having a good look around. He saw the plates of shortbread and the glasses of water, the makeshift tree and the humbleness of their tiny celebration, and shivered. _So it's true. The family is bankrupt. They couldn't even afford to give their staff a proper party...not even a proper meal. Who knows how long it'll be before they have to start burning the furniture!_ "This...this is all you've been making do with?" he said, dropping the blanket and walking around the room.

"Don't forget, there's a lot more people who are _way_ worse off than us," Duo said, leaning against the wall.

"We've made a pretty good evening of it," Quatre added, "even without two hundred party guests and a ballroom full of presents."

"I'm usually home by myself anyway, so this is several steps up," Sally admitted.

"Bah! Who needs all the bother of a big do, anyway?" Arthur scoffed. "That's wha' we really need, is a return to simpler times."

Most of them echoed that sentiment. It hadn't been the glittering holiday they were used to, but it wasn't really that bad--in fact, it was rather cozy, but Marcus couldn't help feeling that they had all been cheated. _Look at those brave faces...they probably think this is just a little economic slump. They've no idea what might happen to them in a few months, or even a few weeks. Every last one of them could be slung out into the street...and I might never know whether I could have prevented it or not...if Relena had just talked to me about it. She's probably so full of pride that she could never ask me for help...but that makes it so terribly unfair on the rest of them! It shouldn't be this way! It mustn't be!_ "Look...everyone..."

They all looked at him expectantly, and though he wanted their attention for a moment, actually getting it temporarily blanked out his brain. He blushed until he remembered what point he was trying to make. "None of us knows what's going on...and we're not likely to, either, until Her Ladyship sorts herself out." In the seconds between one thought at the next, all those eyes began heating up his already reddened face again, making him quite flustered. "W-w-what I mean is...you _can't_ go on like this, none of you. Stop me if I'm on the wrong train to the wrong town, but you all need help...and since I still like to think of myself as one of Re--...one of Her Ladyship's friends...there's none better than me to lend a hand. That bein' said.....well, I...I want you all to come for Christmas lunch tomorrow, at my estate. I'm not trying to show off, I just want to know you're being looked after, and I'm not having any argument."

He tried to make it sound practical, but they could tell from his eyes that he honestly cared. Most everyone's faces erupted with joy, and some of them actually jumped with excitement, mostly the girls. They had a quick vote and gleefully accepted his invitation to the last man, and Marcus was glad they did. It was only a small gesture in the face of economic tragedy, but every little bit helped, or so he believed.

**********  
  


Late that night, after Marcus had gone home to tell his mother to set eleven extra places for lunch, to which she would surely have some interesting things to say, Duo cleaned up what was left of their pitiful Christmas Eve feast and closed up shop for the night. He was rather proud of himself for turning a few coins' worth of groceries into a substantial if unglamorous meal, but in the end, Marcus was right; they needed help. An early plan of action had been to use some of the dividends from Quatre's investments to keep the manor going, but they couldn't deplete their secret resources so soon when they didn't know how long the battle with Cinq would continue. Economy plans could only get them so far, anyway. They might do without electricity if they had to choose between that and food, but they couldn't bear to deprive the horses of their grain, or Shadow of her tuna and chicken.

_If only we could find Relena,_ Duo thought. _Boy, never thought I'd be glad to see her, but she's got to take responsibility for this mess. She's got to explain herself!_

He shrugged it off and looked at the clock. It was getting late, and if he wanted to arrive at his destination in time, he had to leave soon. He climbed up the stairs to his room and found Heero playing with a slightly sleepy Shadow in the corner, dangling some yarn in front of her as she yawned. It was a clever plan of his to tire her out around eleven at night so she would be less likely to keep them awake, and it frequently worked.

"Some night, huh?" the chef whispered.

"Interesting, to say the least."

Heero hadn't yet looked up long enough to notice that Duo had his winter coat and gloves on, as if he were planning to go out somewhere. Waiting for the moment of realization, Duo sat on the bed and yawned once or twice himself. "You know...those books of yours..."

If it were anyone else, Heero would have been tempted to silence them right away rather than listen to taunts or accusations, but he trusted Duo more than that. "Mm hm?"

"I can't figure out where you got 'em. No respectable book store would sell stuff like that..."

When Shadow seemed to be asleep on her little cushion, Heero got up and went to the bureau to put the yarn away. "No, they wouldn't. In fact, they could be arrested for trying to sell them, just like we could be arrested for having them. I had to use my connections, to be honest."

Again, Duo was impressed. "Must be some connections."

Heero shrugged as he closed the drawer. "All agents are well-connected. That's how we get things done without the establishment noticing."

"Pity some of those connections couldn't help find Relena."

They fell silent. Heero didn't know how to respond to that; in fact, since the last time he was in the same room with Relena he nearly paid for it with his life, he wasn't all that keen on ever seeing her again.

Duo knew what he was thinking, and kept talking as if Heero had actually voiced the opinions in his head. "I know you'd rather not have to deal with her, and frankly, neither would I...but face facts, Heero. We're _hurtin'_ here. We _need_ her back to set the house straight, or...or I don't know what's gonna happen to us."

Painful as it was to admit, Duo was right. Certainly, they had more important matters to worry about than keeping the larder stocked and the bills paid, but if the team had nowhere to sleep and nothing to eat, it would be a choice between their emergency funds or their health and efficiency. Neither one could be sacrificed. "You're right," Heero said, beginning to turn around. "Day after tomorrow we'll..." He finally saw what Duo was wearing, and blinked. "Where are you going at this time of night?"

Duo stood up and thought very hard about what to say next. _I'm going to go try and cancel out all the smut I've been exposed to today. I'd love it if you came with me, but I don't know if I should ask. If I ask and you're not interested, I'll feel terrible. If I ask and you're interested and we both go, I might feel terrible anyway, because we're a couple of freaks and maybe we can't go where normal people go. If I don't ask, I'll never know one way or the other, and I'll still feel terrible. I shouldn't ask, not when I don't know if either of us are welcome. But I want to ask. Screw it, I'm asking._ "Midnight mass.....wanna come?"

The look of bewilderment on Heero's face was worth the risk. He was vaguely aware that Duo participated in various religious ceremonies, but simply let him be, and was _never_ asked to take part in them himself. "I...don't think I'd know what to do..."

Duo laughed. "It's easy, you just stand up when everyone else stands up, sit down when everyone else sits down, fake your way through the songs you don't know, and watch me for anything else that happens. I've been saving up cab fare for over a month, so I wouldn't miss it."

Heero felt rather honoured, despite his ignorance. It was a privilege to be included in something Duo held sacred, so much so that he could hardly refuse. "Let's not waste it then," he said with a smile. They turned out the light, wishing Shadow goodnight, and tiptoed down the stairs and out into the street, where they vanished together into a very welcoming darkness, the kind they needed more of.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


_Next, in Episode Seventy: Pushed to the limit, the team focuses its energy on finding Relena, but in their desperation, Trowa may reveal one secret too many during the hunt._

*sings like the cats in the Meow Mix ads* We wish you a furry Christmas! Meow meow meow-meow-meow-meow meow meow! =^_^= Everybody get home safe tonight, and the night after that, and so on, and ESPECIALLY get home safe New Year's Eve, 'cause I'll expect to see you back in 2003, alive and uninjured. :) Mark down January 6th for the next installment, and have a super-fun holiday!


	70. Bad Connections

  
  


**Disclaimer:** I know, from traipsing through every store, mall, and boutique in the Greater Toronto Area, that nobody has Gundam pilots for sale. I even offered to pay retail instead of the supposed sale price, but they still said no. Therefore, I cannot possibly own these magnificent examples of manhood, or the chicks they hang out with. Do not sue me. I have no money except that miniscule amount reserved for presents.

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Seventy: Bad Connections

_"Then indecision brings its own delays, and days are lost lamenting o'er lost days" ~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, "Faust" _

January 6th, 1903

Thanks to Marcus, the servants had a very pleasant Christmas after all; his parents simply couldn't refuse them a decent meal in a festive atmosphere after hearing their sad story of poverty and abandonment. Marcus also put up a few pounds out of his monthly allowance to buy them some groceries, and to their delight, the kitchen was well-stocked once again. With the cupboards full of food, Heero's team felt much more secure with investing their energy in finding Relena, so that was what they set out to do next.

Duo and Hilde knew people living rough who always kept their eyes open. Doris and Elsie knew servants in other households filled with gossipy aristocrats. Arthur knew a handful of fellows his own age in his favourite pub, and Heero knew various low-level members of the semi-criminal underworld who didn't know that he wasn't officially part of their network anymore. Between the lot of them, word of Relena's disappearance was carefully spread, in the hopes that even one of these contacts might have a scrap of useful information to share. Unfortunately, nothing seemed to be turning up.

Lucrezia was still convinced, on some level, that the country house in Hampshire was the key. She had spent hours on the telephone just letting it ring, but no one picked up. She had travelled there in person and beat her fists on every door and window in the place, but no one had appeared to silence her. Still, she just had a feeling, a vague and cloudy suspicion that Milliardo was in there, somewhere.

"I just can't imagine that they'd have anywhere _else_ to go," she told the others as they lounged around the breakfast table in the kitchen. "They've _got_ to be there. Every instinct I have tells me it's true."

Heero watched three other people stir their tea, thinking. "We could easily manage sending a recon team, but if the family refuses to be found out, how do we force a confrontation safely?"

Around the table, Trowa, Quatre, and Hilde pondered the problem. Duo had vanished shortly after setting breakfast on the table and had yet to reappear. "Why don't we just sneak in?" Hilde asked. "There's plenty of windows to smash, or we could get Duo to pick open one of the locked doors."

"We shouldn't have to break the law to talk to Relena," said Quatre. "Things aren't _that_ desperate anymore, and we have to weigh how badly we need her back against how much we're willing to risk."

"Things aren't desperate _now_ because we're living off borrowed money," Hilde countered. "How long do we want to keep _that_ up? Besides, it's only _really_ breaking the law if Relena has us arrested, and she wouldn't do that!"

Heero leaned back and rubbed his chin. "Are you sure?" The others gazed in shock at the suggestion, so he elaborated. "Relena wasn't herself for weeks before the family left. Her behaviour was erratic and her actions unpredictable. I know _I_ don't need reminding that she nearly poisoned me with tranquillizers. Would someone like that look the other way if we smashed our way into their sanctuary?"

Hilde could have made the argument that Relena had been afforded plenty of time to cool off, but the thought of the sleeping pill incident on the night of Treize and Lady Une's engagement party silenced her. When she had found out what Relena had done, she hated her for it, and the feeling lingered on. "Alright...what about a stink bomb, then? Duo's a chemical _genius_ when it comes to distracting people! We can climb up on the roof, drop it down the chimney, and wait for 'em to come shooting out like chickens out of a pressure cooker!"

"No good," Trowa said. "I don't doubt Duo's skill for a minute, but anything he mixes up would probably have exactly enough punch for humans of more than a hundred pounds each, and Frederick would still..." Trowa wound down like a toy soldier with a slack spring, his eyes draining of focus as he realized something other than what he was saying. "...would still be there."

"I see what you're saying," said Lucrezia, leaning forward a bit. "We could end up choking him by accident, and I absolutely will _not_ have a poor little dog on my conscience, not even to see Milliardo."

At the other end of the table, Trowa was still muttering. "...of course, Frederick would be there. She must have taken him with her." While the others all looked quizzically at his state of detachment, he slowly concocted another plan, one he wished he could have thought of weeks ago. He focused sternly on Heero. "I can find out if she's there. Take me along."

Heero was pleasantly surprised at the confident declaration, and didn't see the look of worry on Quatre's face as he nodded in agreement. "I'll meet you out front." He stood, drained the rest of his coffee, and left the kitchen in a flash.

Lucrezia also stood, but hesitantly. "I...don't know whether to stay here or not. I've been waiting for weeks to talk to him, but now...I don't know what to say to him even if we _do_ find him."

"Forget about him for awhile," Hilde said, strutting up beside her and patting her shoulder. "Let the boys do the leg work for today, I'm sure they won't let anything earth-shattering happen without telling you about it. And in the meantime, you can help me do the laundry that's been piling up since we stopped being able to afford detergent. No excuse not to do it now, is there?" The maid grinned and carted both their breakfast dishes over to the sink.

"Might as well..." The girls headed for the pantry door, and Lucrezia tossed a wave over her shoulder to the boys. "See you both later."

"Yeah, see you." Quatre watched them leave, emptying the kitchen of all but himself and a strangely silent stable hand. He narrowed his eyes at Trowa, who was concentrating fiercely on his corn flakes, and cleared his throat. "Why do you suddenly know what to do now that you've remembered Frederick?"

Trowa slowed his munching, but avoided Quatre's eyes. "No reason..."

"You're going to use your ability, aren't you? I thought we agreed we wouldn't do anything to arouse suspicion unless it was absolutely necessary."

After a time, Trowa put his spoon down, swallowed, and looked up. "Isn't it?"

"I don't happen to think it is!" Quatre insisted.

"Look, I've had a bad feeling ever since Relena and the others left, and I want to know why. If I can use my talents, _without_ Heero finding out, I don't particularly see the harm. Besides...shouldn't you be more worried about what you're going to say to Dorothy? You keep saying you're going to go plant some ideas in her head, and you never do."

"I'm working on it!" Quatre shrank away defensively. He knew he wasn't moving very quickly with his plan to manipulate Dorothy, but Trowa didn't need to be so cold and snappy about it. "I'll get it done in a little while, I promise."

"Fine." Without making eye contact, Trowa swooped out of his chair and deposited his empty bowl in the washbasin, with his back to Quatre the entire time. "Just make sure you do your job, and don't concern yourself with how I do mine." It was obvious that he didn't care to hear a response, for he sped out of the kitchen and up the stairs with long, purposeful strides, leaving a sparse cloud of disapproval behind him.

An icy cold stabbing pain shot through Quatre's chest, and he winced as his body crunched into a loose ball involuntarily. Even though he and Trowa had agreed to be friends again, things still weren't exactly right between them. There was a barrier made of solid steel somewhere in Trowa's mind, and every time Quatre even came close to it, it became electrified and burned him from the inside out. When it first appeared, Quatre was very anxious to break through it any way he could, but the more he tried, the more painful his failures became, and lately it seemed that their partnership could never be put back the way it was.

**********  
  


One comforting thing about Duo, from Heero's point of view, was that when he went missing, he rarely took very long to find. It could have been that the two of them simply gravitated to all the same places in the house, or it could have been a streak of predictability that Duo would never admit to, but either way, it ensured that Heero found him on the very first try, yet again. He was straight up the stairs to the second floor and a few steps from their bedroom door when he heard rustling noises that had to have been made by Duo, since Shadow was sitting on a front room windowsill. "Duo," he called out before reaching the door.

"Y-yeah, just a sec!" The rustling noises became more frantic, and by the time Heero burst through the door, Duo was just straightening up to his full height, and the plaid blanket on the bed was just flopping back down into its usual position. Duo had both hands behind his back and an unnaturally chipper smile on his face. "Hi!"

They sized each other up carefully, and Heero glared with great suspicion. "You've been looking at that book again, haven't you?"

"Uh.....what book?"

"Duo!"

The chef scrunched backwards a bit, looking very guilty. For some reason, they had kept putting off finding a more secure hiding place for the blatantly illegal books under the bed, so under the bed they had stayed. "What're ya pickin' on _me_ for!? Half of what's under that mattress is yours! _More_ than half, even!"

Heero set his jaw and counted off each of his points for debate on a different finger. "One, it was just a phase, two, I'm over it, and three, if you're not downstairs in five minutes, we're leaving without you."

"Leaving for where?" Duo asked, happy to have the subject changed for him.

"South to the country estate," Heero explained. "We're going to find out once and for all whether Relena and the others are hiding there or not. Trowa's coming, and so far, he's the only one."

Duo shrugged with a different kind of guilt. "Can't. Love to, but can't."

"Why not?"

"You know those salmon puffs I used to make before we became officially poor? There's a shipment of prime Vancouver salmon hitting this one shop I know at nine o'clock precisely, and I wanna be first in line."

Heero fell silent. There hadn't been one scrap of salmon in the house for a long, long time, and there _certainly_ hadn't been any of Duo's famous salmon puff pastries. The butler nearly drooled over his watch as he hastily checked the time. "It's almost eight-thirty! Go! Move!"

"I'm going!" Duo shouted as he ran for the door, with a strong shove in the back to help him on his way. If Heero's shoving hand had been just an inch or two lower, it would have detected something hidden under Duo's coat that shouldn't have been there. It was large and flat, and should have been under the bed with its kin, but Duo had other plans for it. Breathing a sigh of relief, Duo ran out the door and down the stairs, before Heero could notice anything was missing from the room.

**********  
  


Duo really did intend to be at the fishmonger's for nine o'clock, but he wasn't about to make a social occasion out of it. As soon as he had the salmon in hand, he all but ran out of the shop, wasting no time as he made his way to his real destination, Sally Po's house. He wasn't scheduled to arrive to collect a box of herbs for Helen for another week at least, so when Sally finished with an elderly lumbago patient, she was rather surprised to see him. They exchanged pleasantries, after which Duo got right to the point. He needed help.

"You're in luck," Sally said, strutting out to the waiting room in her fern green dress. "My next appointment isn't for an hour and a half. What do you need?"

Duo swallowed, thinking of the myriad of ways he could have answered that question. "Do you remember...something like a year ago...I came to talk to you about.....stuff? Personal stuff?"

Sally smiled her most motherly smile. It was actually more than a year previous, when Duo had come to her in a slow but terribly confused panic, confessing strange things that he found himself feeling towards Heero, and wondering what to do about them. She had given him just enough advice to calm him down and boost his confidence, but something had told her then that the subject would come up again one day, and lo and behold, the prophecy was fulfilled. She tilted her head to the side and crossed her arms. "Vaguely."

The braided boy looked down, left, right, and scratched the back of his head with his free hand before holding out a package wrapped in brown paper with the other. "This is gonna take awhile. You haven't got room in your icebox for this, have you?"From the shape and the smell, the package was easily identified as fish. Sally wrinkled her nose a bit, but took the bundle from him, and let Duo follow her around from the front room to the kitchen, and finally to her sitting room, babbling nervously all the way. "I really don't mean to burden you with junk like this, but it's the sort of junk you're supposed to talk to your parents about, and I'm kinda lacking in that department, even though I've got Helen, 'cause she's sorta been like a mother to me, off and on, but I really, reeeeally can't talk to her about this, and that's why it's gotta land on your head. Sorry."

She smiled in light amusement and pointed him to a green cushioned wing chair in front of her desk, then sat down behind it. "It's alright. I know what it's like, not having a mother or father around to explain the unexplainable."

Duo sat up suddenly, looking terribly saddened. "_Oh_...oh, gosh, I'm sorry. I didn't know."

The boy's tone surprised Sally, and it showed. "No no, they're not _dead_," she said, quickly opening a drawer and taking out a framed photograph, passing it across the desk to Duo. "They're mountaineers. I think they're in Tibet this month, but I won't know until I get a postcard, which usually takes awhile after they've set up a new base camp."

Duo peered fondly down at the sepia-tone photograph with slight envy. A fair-haired European woman and a plump-cheeked Chinaman peered back at him, dressed in tough canvas clothes adorned with various straps, buckles, and bits of mountain-climbing equipment, posed in front of a rocky crag. "Wow...they look really nice."

"They are," Sally said in a wistful tone, "but it would've been nicer if they could have spent some more time with me during my formative years. Although, I'll give them this much...they were very liberal with my long-distance upbringing. It was always too dangerous to take me along on their adventures, so I sat at home with the housekeeper and the occasional tutor, but they instinctively knew when I had questions that nobody around me had the guts to answer, and they kept sending the housekeeper lists of books to buy so I could find things out for myself. They were mostly medical textbooks, which is probably why I went into medicine. I'd already invested so much time in it." She saw that Duo had put the picture frame neatly on the desk and was now staring at his hands, folded in his lap, and took pity on him, leaning forward. "So...what would you like to ask me that you can't ask Helen? Something of the medical persuasion, no doubt..."

Blushing, Duo reached back behind him with both hands, under his black winter overcoat, and slid something out from the confines of his waistband. It was a large black hardcover book with no exterior markings, and he handed it to Sally with downcast eyes. Quite innocently, Sally took the book from him and laid it flat on the desk, casually flipping through the first few pages, slowing dramatically as dozens of naked people slammed relentlessly into her unprotected eyeballs. She seemed unfazed by it. "...I see."

"Actually...most of my questions are about..." Duo scooted forward in the chair and reached over the desk, flipping to the back of the book, where the lurid images were nothing but lithe young men, seemingly no older than he was. He stopped at a page he had marked with a long piece of thread, and leaned back. "...this."

Nothing on Sally moved except her eyebrows, which threatened to climb right up under her hairline. "Ah ha."

"And, um..." Duo leaned forward again and turned to another page further back, marked with another piece of thread. There, the same two nubile youths were pictured in entirely different positions. "...this."

"...mm hm..."

A third and final time, Duo directed Sally to a new page, and a new picture, the strangest of the three. "And _that_."

Sally studied the last photograph with clinical curiosity, slowly turned the book upside down, studied it again, then turned it right side up and exhaled. "Well, I wouldn't get your hopes up on that one, unless you're double-jointed."

Duo laughed gratefully. The tension in his neck and back was bad enough, and he knew Sally was the only person who couldn't possibly make it worse. "Don't bother asking where I got that, 'cause I can't tell you."

"I'm not surprised!" Sally exclaimed. "It's extremely difficult getting your hands on black market publications...in fact, I know several members of my women's group who could benefit from an hour alone with this book. We were supposed to have a poetry reading by Pauline Johnson, but she had to cancel. This would be an _interesting_ substitution, to say the _least_."

Sally had turned back to the co-ed section of the book, and betrayed her professional exterior with slight traces of a lascivious smile as she perused the fantasies in black and white. Duo squirmed. "Okay...stop..._enjoying_ it so much. It's just weird."

"Sorry." Sally grinned and closed the book, setting it off to the side. "So, you have some questions about your, um.....reading material?" Duo made a tiny, non-committal shrug. "Something in a you-and-Heero context?" Another tiny shrug, and Sally was getting confused. "Well, the pictures seem pretty self-explanatory, what exactly didn't you understand?"

It was a brash thing to say, but it seemed the only way to force Duo to admit that something else was wrong. "It's not that! ...it's...it's me. I just don't know what I'm supposed to..." He began turning red again, and he shut his eyes hopelessly as he shifted around in his chair. "I look at Heero, and I'm _sure_ I know what I want. Then I look at the stuff in that book and I feel like my lunch is gonna make a surprise reappearance. Sometimes I'll go out for a walk, thinking that I just need to clear some junk outta my head, and then some girl has to yank her skirt up to step into a cab and my eyes are glued to her ankles! One time, this woman bent down in the street to pick up a crate of oranges and I could see right down the front of her dress! And after she stood up, I wanted to see it again! I felt so guilty that I _purposely_ burned a pan of scalloped potatoes to a crackling crisp just so I'd have an excuse to stay late in the kitchen and scour the gunk off, 'cause I couldn't look Heero in the eye! And then the next morning I woke up next to him like any other morning, thinking I know what I want, and it starts the whole dumb merry-go-round all over again! What the heck's _wrong_ with me!?" He finished his tirade with a firm slap on the desktop, and sprang out of his chair to stand off facing the bookcase with both hands clamped over the back of his down-stretched neck, sighing heavily.

Patiently, Sally twiddled her thumbs on the desk. "I'm not a psychologist, by any stretch of the imagination, but I think if I were in your position, I'd be a little confused too."

"Yeah, but, confused about _what_? Everything was fine before..." Without warning, Duo paused, and thought quietly to himself as he was stared in the face by row upon row of bland, soulless medical books. _Before when? I had a perfectly good idea of what I wanted until...oh no.....until I got that letter from Helen. Until I knew how badly she disapproved of the whole thing. I never should have brought it up. I should've known how she'd react. Now I'm all messed up._ "Is it possible that I've been...subconsciously going along with what someone _else_ wants, instead of what I want?"

Sally nodded. "It's possible." She waited until he plunked himself back into the green chair with a sigh before dropping the other, much heavier shoe. "Unless you're not sure what you want...or what Heero wants, for that matter."

_Good point,_ Duo thought, sinking lower into the chair. _I haven't been thinking at all about what he wants. I'd never even have the guts to ask...but I could work on that, couldn't I?_ Being ill-informed on some fronts was his biggest problem. He reasoned that if he was just a little bit better prepared on the subject matter, confidence would override embarrassment, and he might finally be able to have a sensible conversation with Heero on topics relating to love. Coating his nerves in a layer of iron, he reached forward and flipped the big black book open again, then sat back and swallowed. "Maybe if you could...explain this stuff in slightly greater detail, it might help me decide." He paused, with an extra-long blink. "Help _us_ decide."

Sally took another disturbed look at the boys in the picture, and wondered about the best way to proceed. "You may not like what I have to say about it," she warned in a hesitant voice.

"Does it matter?" Duo asked. "I've got to know, ugly or not. Just make it as cold and mechanical as possible, and we'll see whether I warm up to it or not."

With more raised eyebrows, Sally agreed, and gently began an in-depth explanation of the pictures in the picture book. As it turned out, they really couldn't have fully explained themselves, and once Duo got over the initial shock brought on by Sally's bold and fearless analysis of the activities displayed therein, he was amazed at how much more there was to it than two bodies entwined in a motionless tableau.

**********  
  


Only Heero and Trowa ended up going to Hampshire, and it was just as well that nobody else got entangled in their mission. It was teeming with rain, so much so that the creeks and streams were overflowing, spilling muddy water into the cobbled lanes of many towns and villages between Southampton and Sutherby House. Not only was it a nightmare finding a carriage once they hopped off the train, but it took additional bribe money to convince the driver to take the most direct route to the country estate, even though it meant rolling through six inches of flood water, in places. The pair of them looked out the carriage windows and down at the insidious temporary lake with a doubtful cringe that lasted throughout their journey.

"We could have postponed this until the rain let up," said Heero with a weary sneer.

"I know, but I wanted it this way," Trowa said firmly. "The farmer's almanac predicted heavy rain for this week, and what better way to get into the house? Relena would _never_ let us stand outside in the pouring rain for very long, even taking into account her new life as a hermit. I'll find Frederick, she'll follow, and all we have to do after that is look pitiful until she caves. That's why I'm just as glad Lucrezia stayed home. No sense in all three of us catching pneumonia."

Heero slouched. "How thoughtful." The rain began pounding even harder on the windows and roof of their vehicle, and he began to feel terrible for the poor driver up on top, unprotected. It would mean another hefty tip, but at least it was coming out of Marcus' pocket, along with the grocery money. "How do you plan to find Frederick? He won't be outside in this weather either."

Trowa was already looking out the window on the opposite side, and he knit his brow at the piece of glass. He had hoped that Heero wouldn't need to know specifics, because he hadn't had time to think up a cover story. He knew Frederick would come to him as soon as he sent out a mental beacon for the pup to follow, and when he devised the plan, he deluded himself into thinking that he could give Heero the slip just long enough to 'call' Frederick, and then all would seem quite normal. Realistically, though, Heero would want to be there when Relena showed up, so what Trowa needed was a tangible distraction to explain Freddie's appearance, rather than canine telepathy. Nervously, the fingers of the hand farthest from Heero's line of sight started kneading the worn velveteen fabric of the bench seat, and as they slipped down between the bench and the door, they found something. "I, uh....." While Trowa struggled for words, his hand clasped a cold, thin tube of metal, with one open end and a kind of a clip on the side. It would have to do. "I've got one of those silent dog whistles...you know, the kind people can't hear?" He looked at Heero and held up his hand with just an inch of the golden metal tube showing, the open end clearly visible.

Heero nodded, impressed. "Let's hope he's not too far inside to hear it." As he turned his attention back his own window, Trowa rolled his eyes and sighed silently.

As the carriage drew up to the gates that led to Sutherby House, the driver had to stop. The gates were locked, as they had been for weeks. Trowa gave the driver additional directions, which Lucrezia had given him before his departure, and the carriage rolled on through the gravel lane sheltered by bare trees, a good mile and a half around to the back of the property. There, the boys jumped out, and gave the driver a few more well-deserved coins before disappearing into the woods. Lucrezia had described a little-known trail that the locals had showed her once before, a winding path that led through a hedgerow, across a field, and over a footbridge, from which one could see the conservatory of the house quite clearly. The rain pelted them steadily for the entire hike, and only their standard-London-issue black umbrellas prevented them from becoming completely soaked. As they were walking over the wooden footbridge, over a very full creek with some tiny icebergs being washed swiftly downstream, Trowa had the audacity to remark that it wasn't so bad, and that they should be thankful the weather wasn't any worse. No sooner had the words escaped his lips than the footbridge broke, and Heero fell in. There was much angry nonsense and semi-obscene commotion in Japanese, and after hauling him out of the bone-chilling water, Trowa decided to just keep his mouth shut for awhile.

It was a grim march from then, but they made it to the house without further incident. It did indeed look abandoned, and not even Heero and his sharp eyes could detect so much as a footprint anywhere around the perimeter. Apparently, no food was being brought in, nor any trash taken out, but that didn't entirely discount the presence of people--the storage capacity of this home was several times that of Bridlewood, and they could easily have enough food stores to last them throughout the winter, if necessary. During the course of their search, the rain started to let up, from a torrential downpour to a drizzle, and then finally to a light sprinkling. It was not long after this change that the boys smelled smoke, and the burning residue of coal and wood. They stepped back a few paces, and there was a plume of greyish vapour rising up from one of the many chimneys. They looked at each other with victorious smirks.

Trowa beckoned Heero over to a nondescript wooden door around the back which was locked like all the others. Unlike all the others, it had a little swinging panel on hinges right at the bottom, just perfect for a dog Frederick's size. There were no pawprints anywhere around the door, but it was the only one like it on the whole building, and they knew for a fact that there was no courtyard for Freddie to run around in. Logic dictated that they had to let him out at least once a day, and that door was the best place to do it. "Why don't you cover the front door in case they try to sneak out that way?" Trowa suggested.

"That wouldn't make any sense," Heero said. "I'll keep out of sight, you use your whistle, and if anyone appears, I'll block their retreat back _into_ the house." He promptly crouched in front of a hedge under a nearby window, completely hidden to anyone who might have been passing by indoors.

Trowa sighed quietly. _It was worth a shot._ Now he had no choice but to use a bit of trickery on Heero. He stood squarely in front of the altered door, about ten large paces back, and dug the golden metal tube out of his pocket. There hadn't been an opportunity to examine it and see what it actually was, but it looked like a piece of a broken ball-point pen. Heero absolutely did _not_ need to know that, of course, and Trowa held the closed end to his lips and pretended to blow rapidly through it as if it were a whistle. Since the whistle was supposed to be silent anyway, Heero was none the wiser. Letting the hand fall back down to his side, Trowa then concentrated on his true siren call, reaching out past the bricks and mortar of the outer walls with his mind and searching for a familiar little brain wave pattern. Practising over and over with the horses in the stable and even the birds in the trees had made his mental focus much sharper, or so he hoped, and within a minute, it paid off in spades.

A distant yipping began somewhere in the depths of the mansion, and it grew steadily louder, accompanied by the scratching of claws against wood and tile flooring. Ducking his head, Frederick pushed through the doggie door and shot out of the house like a furry bullet. The peppy terrier was overjoyed to see Trowa again, and he leapt right up on the boy as high as his puny legs could launch him, barking and slobbering with longing and love. He had missed his two-legged friend terribly, and Trowa honestly felt the same; he caught Frederick in both arms and gave him a vigorous rub-down, laughing enough to forget why he had come. In the confusion, the 'whistle' was knocked out of Trowa's hand and bounced a few feet away, lost in the half-dead grass. Trowa didn't notice, but Heero did.

While the two of them carried on, Heero's keen ears detected another faint sound underneath their collective din, that of bipedal footsteps, rapid and frustrated, heading towards the same door. Bursting through the _entire_ door, with only a thin shawl to protect her from the cold, was none other than Relena, calling Frederick's name and holding a set of four little red knitted booties that he was supposed to wear whenever he went outside. She ran right past Heero and the hedge, without seeing either of them, stopped in front of Trowa, and froze, her face turning ashen. Stealthily, Heero rose from his crouch and stepped in front of the door, still unpleasantly soaking wet.

Relena tugged her shawl closer about her shoulders, shivering from something other than the outside temperature. She strode right up to him and took Frederick out of his arms, backing up towards the house as she clutched her dog protectively. "What are you doing here?" she asked in a low and shaky tone. Trowa stared icily back at her, but involuntarily, his eyes shifted to Heero. Relena saw it and whirled around. Her breath caught in her throat as their eyes met, and her only thought was to escape him. She ducked quickly to the right, but he matched her movements with a steely gaze. She darted to the left, but again he blocked her. Flight was impossible. "What do you want!?" she cried in desperation.

Heero stood up straight, pulling his spine into a more relaxed and less threatening position, but he kept his glare in place. "You're a difficult person to track down lately," he remarked.

Relena was silent, her neck tightening with fear as she struggled to move, or scream, or do anything at all. She stared vacantly into the deep blue of Heero's eyes, truly petrified of him. Frederick picked up on her negative vibes and began growling fiercely at the boy, while still safely encased in his owner's arms. Both boys looked surprised, and Trowa especially found Frederick's reaction quite curious. _He's never behaved that way to Heero before,_ he thought. _He's only doing it to protect Relena. She must be terrified...but why?_

While Trowa puzzled and Heero remained guarded, neither of them knew that a blood-curdling memory was bubbling to the surface of Relena's psyche, filling her with a dread she hadn't felt since the whole nightmare began, so many lonely nights ago...

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


"...no...I don't believe you..." Relena's hand trembled as it continued to clutch the stolen revolver level with Treize's head. Her entire arm was screaming in pain, but she was paralysed. It couldn't be true. It just couldn't.

"You asked for the whole truth," Treize scoffed mockingly. "You can't decide now that you don't like it. If it's that disturbing to your tender young ears, you should have been content to live in ignorance."

Up above them, the last of the colourful fireworks celebrating the Count's engagement were shot off, creating a deafening cascade of flame blossoms overhead. Multicoloured lights of every description bathed the pair behind the small utility building far away from the rest of the party-goers, casting a surreal glow over their clandestine meeting. With her free hand, Relena rubbed the waistband of her dress, trying unsuccessfully to calm her lurching stomach. "H-how...how could this be going on...without the authorities putting a stop to it!?" she choked out finally.

Treize clucked his tongue with sarcastic pity. "Poor, idealistic girl...the world isn't ruled by foolish notions of 'rights' and 'justice'...only by power, and these men have created their own power by their own means. You don't think anyone who could decide the fate of entire nations would be worried about Policeman Plod blowing his little whistle at them, do you?"

"But...nothing on earth could give any of you the right to destroy people's lives for the sake of a...a game! Have you no shame whatsoever!?"

The Count folded his arms and leaned languidly against the wall, still remarkably unfazed by the loaded weapon staring him in the face. "I haven't had any use for shame in a good many years, my dear. It, along with many other useless emotions, only gets in the way of one's goal."

Those words stung Relena even worse than learning that millions of lives around the world had been and would continue to be toyed with by a group of evil, contemptible men, whom Treize held in great esteem. A simple case of greed, she could understand, but this was monstrous. "I could accept that you tried to snatch our family fortune out from under us," she said calmly, "and I could accept that you never wanted anything to do with me from the very beginning, and that you've been lying since the day we met, but what I cannot accept is that any blood relative of mine would want to be associated with--"

"With kings?" Treize finished for her. "With heads of state? With law-makers and judges? It's all in your perspective, isn't it? The Cinq Association does all these things, and it's only the fact that they operate in the shadows that has you so irked. If they were in the public view, their power would be recognized by all, just like the kings and presidents of the 'open' world."

"If they were in the public view, they'd be strung up by as many trees as it took to exterminate them!" Relena spat.

Struck by an interesting thought, Treize slowly smirked, raising an eyebrow. "So...if you had your way, you would destroy every last soul that had any contact with these men, so that they couldn't contaminate the rest of your peace-loving society?"

Relena thought she knew when someone was trying to put words in her mouth, and she bristled, lowering the gun a bit to give her arm a rest. "Perhaps...if they refused to reform, and persisted in trying to drag the rest of the world down to their level...yes, they would have to surrender themselves."

"Fascinating," the Count purred. "And which do you suppose Heero would choose?"

The girl paled. Terror gripped every last part of her, except her subconscious, which smiled and nodded sadly, having somehow always known that such a revelation would occur. Her conscious mind, however, refused to believe it. "What do you mean?"

"I hardly have the monopoly on lying to you for self-advancement," Treize chuckled. "Haven't you ever stopped to wonder what brought Heero into your world? Didn't he appear out of nowhere, in the perfect place and at the perfect time? He was more than bright enough to get himself a top position anywhere in London, and yet he chose to cling to your skirt tails when it was obvious in the end that he had no interest in you whatsoever. Doesn't it all sound a bit suspect?"

"We've just grown apart, that's all!" Relena cried, shaking her head.

"Oh no, it's _much_ worse than that!" Treize said with a snakelike smile. "He cared even _less_ for you than I did, and he's just as dangerous. Why, he could have been after the family fortune too, and you never would have realized. You would have married him, fattened his wallet, and been left by the side of the road when he tired of your incessant whining. That is...if he didn't decide to do away with you altogether!"

The images that flooded Relena's distraught mind were multiplied by something she knew that Treize didn't, that Heero kept a loaded revolver in his bottom dresser drawer. The proof of his conspiracy was right in her hand. Her own finger was on the very trigger that might have been used on her, had she gone through with the engagement. Suddenly it all seemed clear; Heero must have planned it that way from the beginning, and was only playing the role of butler to build up trust and avert suspicion from himself when the day finally came, the day when he expected to walk out of Bridlewood for the last time, as a rich widower. When she stumbled across the gun, she had been too blinded by thoughts of extracting information from Treize to wonder why it was there, and now on top of this new horror was the sickening knowledge that Treize had probably just saved her life, for now that she knew of Heero's plot, she could avoid it.

"It's a terrible burden being wealthy, don't you think?" the Count went on, confident as ever. "You can't go one day without wondering who wants a piece of you and why. It could even be that Heero's after the same position in the Cinq Association that I am, in which case, to carry out your golden dream of a peace-loving society, you'd have to destroy him along with me, and everyone else who's ever set eyes on the power to reshape the world to their liking. And he'd deserve it, too...for no vicious deception against the Peacecraft family should go unpunished."

Now, Treize was deviating slightly from the truth, for he knew perfectly well Heero was there because of him, and not Relena, but he was pleased with the effect his fibbing had on the girl. She began shaking all over as tears streamed out of her reddened eyes, and she wrapped both arms tightly around herself, finally lowering the gun. '...no...I c-can't trust anyone!' she thought. 'I truly loved Heero...but if he could fool me so much for so long, any of them could! I have to get away...I have to get out of that house forever! I could be dead if I don't!!'

Before Treize could spin any more half-truths, she turned and ran, sobbing hysterically, the revolver still clutched tightly in her right hand. Treize, thinking proudly that he'd finally managed to snap her tiny brain in two, smirked triumphantly and sauntered back to the party, where his lady love was waiting.

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Trowa had shifted over to stand next to Heero, and they were both peering into Relena's blank face with slight worry. The cinnamon-haired boy waved a hand in front of her eyes, and several times they called her name, but they just couldn't bring her back to reality. It was only when Heero reached out with both hands to give her a small shake by the shoulders that she inhaled sharply, and backed away in panic. "Don't touch me!" she hollered.

Heero lowered his arms and glowered strangely. That was something he didn't hear too often. "I think you'd better do the talking," he muttered to Trowa, stepping away from the scene.

As his leader stalked off, Trowa felt the pressure of being put on the spot, for he had already done everything he had planned to do. Swallowing in deep thought, he approached the girl as meekly as he could, which wasn't much, considering his mood and the rough position she had put them all in. "We need to talk, and don't try running away from me, because you're not getting out of the cold until I've had my say."

Relena scowled at her employee, and only then remembered that she was outdoors in winter without a coat on. "You've got some nerve!"

"And you've got a lot of explaining to do!" Trowa shot back. "What did you think you were doing, running off and leaving us to fend for ourselves?"

"What I think is _never_ your business unless I _make_ it your business, and I'll have to be very disappointed in _all_ of you if I can't take a few days off without the house falling apart!"

"It's not the _house_ that's falling apart, it's _us_! We've been going hungry because _your_ creditors haven't been paid! The grocer, the butcher, the corner bakery, the dairy...they cut off all our credit, and it took the last of our pocket money just to keep enough food in the pantry so we wouldn't have to start selling the furniture!"

Relena looked as though she'd been slapped. "But...we don't send cheques out until the end of the month! That's when the accounts are due, they know that! There's at least a week left, isn't there? There _has_ to be, or we would have missed Christmas!"

Heero had wandered somewhere behind Relena, idly shuffling his feet along the ground, looking for the dropped whistle. He looked up at Trowa with the quintessential raised eyebrow, and Trowa shook his head, running a hand through his spiky bangs and taking a calm step towards her. "Relena.....it's _January_."

The look of shock on her face worsened. Surely she couldn't have misplaced an entire _week_, not to mention her favourite holiday! It seemed inconceivable, but the fact remained that when spending so much time locked away from the world, one day felt very much like another, and her family had been too busy with matters of global importance to bother looking at a calendar. Time inside Sutherby House had stretched into one long day, while the outside world had marched on into a new year.

The three of them were all so wrapped up in this silent revelation that they almost missed a young man's voice wafting on the breeze from far away. Three heads turned as a dim silhouette came crawling out from behind the far edge of the mansion, and slowly came into focus. As the figure jogged closer, it's lamenting howls became more distinct. "Lena!" it cried.

Relena realized that it was Marcus, and felt even more trapped. Also realizing that Frederick was becoming bored, and was wriggling around in her loosening grip, she hastily pulled the four red booties over his paws one by one, and set him down on the ground. He went straight over to the pair of black umbrellas lying next to the kitchen door, intent on sniffing the daylights out of them. Relena then straightened up and wrung her hands, which were starting to go a bit numb anyway, and thought frantically about what to say when the jogger finally arrived.

Lungs heaving, arms windmilling, Marcus ground to a shaky halt like a juggernaut that had just run out of oil, and leaned forward with his hands on his knees for several seconds, trying to catch a bit of oxygen. They couldn't tell from how far away he had run, but it looked like a lot. When he finally straightened up, he saw that Relena was hideously underdressed for the weather, hurriedly slipped off his overcoat and draped it around her shoulders, then scowled at the other two for not being gentlemen enough to do the same. Still huffing and puffing a bit, he address the boys first, somewhat apologetically. "Sorry to...burst in...uninvited.....but Miss Noin told me...you'd be here." Once he got a good look at Heero, no longer dripping but obviously drenched, he gaped. "Good Lord, what happened to you?"

"Substandard navigation," Heero quipped. Though he couldn't see it, Trowa glared.

"Could we have a moment?" Marcus asked without missing a beat, putting an arm around Relena's shoulders and steering her away from the boys.

Trowa stuck his hands in his pockets and glowered, wishing he could have finished his argument, since he was doing so well with it. He lowered his head and pivoted around, giving a quick whistle to the dog. "C'mon, Fred..."

As Heero, Trowa, and Frederick retreated to a dignified but watchful distance, Marcus spun Relena around so that her back was turned to them all, and clasped both of her chilly hands in his. "Miss Peacecraft...if I've caused you any embarrassment, I am truly sorry, but I _had_ to talk to you."

Relena's head was spinning, and she could hardly tell what was going on right in front of her, let alone feel put-upon by yet another unnannounced arrival. "No, it...it's alright," she stammered, looking down at his Ascot tie rather than up into his face. _What am I going to tell him?_

"I hope so, because it's a drop of water in the ocean compared to what I'm about to say." With one hand, Marcus tipped Relena's chin up, forcing her to look him in the eye. "I know you'll probably think I'm meddling, a-and of course, you've every right to do so...but...I wanted you to know...there's no need to pretend anymore. You don't have to hide from me. I know why you've come here."

Relena's eyes bulged even larger than before. _That's impossible! Nobody knows except the people caught up in...oh no. Please tell me you're not..._ "...how did you find out?"

"Heard two old codgers talking about it over the holidays," Marcus confessed. "It's all 'round the city, I'm afraid. Everyone's talking about you, and about Bridlewood...and the word 'bankruptcy' keeps popping up." He clutched her hands a little tighter, clearly anguished by the situation. "I understand what an awful time this must be for you, but Relena, why didn't you _tell_ me? I wouldn't have thought less of you, and I wouldn't have judged you! When you disappeared, I didn't know what to think, and when I found out it was just money problems, well...you could have _come_ to me for money, anytime you needed it!"

The clouds parted, and Relena sighed deeply on the inside. Marcus didn't know her problems at all, and with the staff unable to pay the bills, plus her widespread fundraising campaign, it was no wonder that he thought the manor was out of cash and out of hope. Far from that, the Peacecrafts were just as rich as they had ever been, and yet they suddenly needed more. _But I can't let you know that. I can't take a single penny from you, or you'd be a part of this mess instead of safely away from it._ Thinking with the speed of a thousand cheetahs, she put on her innocent face. "Oh...it isn't that bad, really...we just came up a bit short the last few months. I don't want you to worry yourself."

"And I don't want you worrying either," said her beau, "which is why I've already made a small contribution to the household, for food, water, electricity and all that. Call it a loan, if you like, I just couldn't let your home fall to ruin. What kind of friend would I be?" Not even Relena's stoic arguments of pride could top that. She was genuinely touched by his kind gestures, and smiled in spite of her hopeless mood.

While Relena and Marcus had their quiet rendez-vous and Trowa played with Frederick, Heero kept an eye on both scenes while scanning the ground for the dropped whistle. He intended simply to return it to its owner, for any item lost was automatically money spent. At last, a glint of gold caught his eye, not too far from where Trowa had been standing when he summoned the pint-sized pooch. When Heero bent down and picked it up, however, it ceased to be what it was advertised as. A whistle it most assuredly was not.

He looked over at Trowa. The boy hadn't noticed Heero's activity, and was happily busy playing fetch with a foot-long twig. Upon closer inspection, the 'whistle' looked more like a broken pen cap, made of common, everyday brass; there was no other object within a fifty foot radius that could have been in Trowa's hand. Heero instantly wanted to know why he had lied, not to mention, how he could have whistled for the dog when there was, in fact, no whistle. Trowa turned around suddenly, and Heero slipped the pen cap into his pocket for further analysis, which was fairly low on his list of priorities after a hot meal and a dry set of clothes.

Closer to the house, Relena had fed Marcus some reassuring words, without telling him one way or the other whether or not she could realistically ever see him again, and beckoned her servants over. Even though she didn't trust them, she had to keep them on the payroll so they wouldn't have an excuse to revolt. "The bills will be paid on time from now on, and so will your weekly wages," she declared solemnly, "so if that's all you came for, you may go now. If there was anything else you wanted to discuss with me, you may _still_ go now. Keep the house running, and don't speak to anyone about our financial difficulty. If there are to be any changes to your routine, I shall be the one to contact you. I don't want to see either of you, or anyone else from the manor, traipsing across the countryside to ask me pointless questions or spread gossip, understood?"

Heero simply glared, so it was up to Trowa to answer for the pair of them. "Yes, Miss," he muttered.

As Relena stepped back up to the door and cracked it open, Frederick heard the sound and went running back inside as quickly as he had come. Then, she took off the borrowed overcoat, handed it back to Marcus, and before she could ponder whether or not she should even see the boy again, "I'll write to you" slipped out, seconds before she herself slipped inside.

Marcus turned to the others, crestfallen, just as low, rumbling thunder rolled across the mackerel grey sky. Seconds later, the rain began pelting down again, saturating all three of them to one uniform wetness. They all looked at each other with similar stares of despondency, and as the thunder doubled in intensity, Heero put both hands in his pockets, turned to Trowa, and glared humourlessly through a miniature waterfall tumbling down his face. "All we have to do is stand here and look pitiful until she caves and lets us in......._right_!?"

It was a long, long, soggy walk back to the village.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Seventy-One: Duo tries to start a crucial conversation with Heero, but gets side-tracked as he realizes his friend has been hiding something more important from them all. Quatre summons up all his courage to talk to Dorothy on neutral turf, and not knowing what sort of reaction to expect ensures that whatever happens will be a complete surprise._

Anyone blown any resolutions yet? =^-^= Aw, don't feel bad. You know what Dr. Phil says? Willpower isn't what makes or breaks your New Year, it's lifestyle changes that really matter. *hides the box of mini-sugar donuts under the desk* I just love Dr. Phil, don't you? ...aaaanywho...I think January 17th would be an appropriate time to pick the story back up. See you then! :D *wavies*


	71. Patchwork

  
  


**Warning:** ...warning? What a dumb word. Sweet shounen-ai goodness. That's not warn-worthy.

**Disclaimer:** I know, from traipsing through every store, mall, and boutique in the Greater Toronto Area, that nobody has Gundam pilots for sale. I even offered to pay retail instead of the supposed sale price, but they still said no. Therefore, I cannot possibly own these magnificent examples of manhood, or the chicks they hang out with. Do not sue me. I have no money except that miniscule amount reserved for presents.

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Seventy-One: Patchwork

_"Oft expectation fails and most oft there,  
Where most it promises, and oft it hits,  
Where hope is coldest and despair most fits." ~William Shakespeare, "All's Well That Ends Well" _

January 17th, 1903

It seemed that more days than not, Heero was coming down with a headache. He'd always suffered the occasional twinge, about once a week ever since he could remember, but it was usually after a hard day of training, and he didn't have long to put up with it before he could sleep it off. Lately, however, they were coming much earlier in the day, and sometimes trying to sleep it off would bring the unpleasant surprise of still having it in the morning. Still, it seemed to trivial to complain about, so he carried on as normal, or as close as he could get to it.

While Duo was downstairs making breakfast, Heero crept across the hall from their suite to Pegan's, where there was a secret stash of analgesic powders and other assorted pharmaceuticals in the medicine cabinet. If not for the fact that he didn't want to worry Duo needlessly, he could have kept them in their own bathroom. Mechanically, he opened the mirrored cabinet, took out one of the little paper packets filled with bitter white powder, ripped it open, and dumped the contents into a half-glass of water. Two quick swirls of the glass later, he gulped the mixture down, making a sour face at himself as it burned his throat on the way down. The salicylic acid was almost as bad as the headaches themselves; it was terrible stuff to swallow, and it almost invariably gave him a stomachache in trade, but nothing else that was legally obtainable could stop his head from splitting open.

That taken care of, he now had to race downstairs and scarf down some breakfast before his appetite was shot to pieces. He took the stairs two at a time, loping down like a mountain goat, and emerged into the kitchen where a sparse group was already well into the morning meal. The housemaids had taken their plates into the dining room for a change, so it was just the boys left over, and Wufei had made a trip over to the house for a change of scenery. Before Heero could make any movements towards the stove and the food and the food-preparer, Quatre got up and blocked his path for a quick word. "I got a telegram back from Dorothy," he said in rapid-update mode. "She's got the directions to that café you went to, and she said she'll be there at ten-thirty."

Heero nodded. "You'll need to take at least one of us with you, for security..." He immediately looked over at Trowa, but the stable hand shrank away in his chair, clutching his own neck.

"I don't think I should leave the house today," he warbled in a falsely raspy voice. "I've got a bit of a sore throat, and I don't want it to turn into anything..." Though he didn't want it to, his eye fell on Quatre, and he saw the vague look of disappointment on his face. Guilt came crashing in on him, but it couldn't change his story.

Heero brushed it off. "Fine." He then looked at Wufei. "You go with him, then."

Wufei looked stricken, as if he'd been asked to volunteer for random limb amputation. "What!? I'm worth more than that! Sending me to play bodyguard against a _girl_!? You do it!"

"I have other things to do _here_," the butler insisted. "You're not doing anything useful, so you'll do as you're told." He turned his back on the group, grabbing a plate from the cupboard and making for the stove, where Duo was busy with scrambled eggs and crispy bacon. "Besides, it's not just Dorothy you might have to watch out for. Byron patronizes that establishment every once in a while, and you're perfectly well-equipped to deal with him on top of the Baroness." Heero and Duo both removed themselves from the conversation after that, retreating to a corner of the pantry where Duo appeared to be rearranging foodstuffs, though he was actually asking if Heero was alright, and getting the usual semi-convincing reassurances in return.

Back at the kitchen table, Quatre tried not to be insulted by Wufei's attitude; he was really more interested in why Trowa out-and-out lied about having a sore throat, but when he turned to confront him about it, he saw that the boy was already making a hasty retreat up the servants' stairwell. Quatre sulked, and sat back down a chair away from Wufei. "Looks like it's just you and me today."

Wufei looked out the window with bland eyes, stirring his tea. "Looks like." They sat stiff and bored until it was time to leave, and now neither of them really wanted to go.

**********  
  


From a front room window, partially hidden by a golden chintz curtain, Trowa gazed outside and watched Quatre walk down the street to the corner with Wufei in tow, where it was easier to hail a cab. The sore throat Trowa supposedly had, the one that prevented him from driving Quatre to his destination himself, was shamefully fabricated. He still didn't know why. When Quatre approached him for help, he panicked, and made up the first story that would excuse him from duty for the rest of the day. Now that his schedule had been cleared, however, he couldn't think of a single thing to do except watch Quatre disappear and wonder why he let him go.

_I can't think straight anymore, when he's around,_ he thought, perching an arm on the window frame and leaning his forehead against it. _I can't spend five minutes alone with him without snapping at him. I don't mean to, it just happens. Maybe that's why I lied...because I knew I'd just end up hurting him again._

He pushed himself off the window and landed a few feet away in a plush chair, his mind spinning with question after question. It hadn't always been this way between them, of course, so what was the turning point? Trowa sat there for a full ten minutes until he could admit what he really should have known all along, that when Quatre used the two of them and allusions to love in the same sentence, he couldn't handle it.

Unexpectedly, a vision from the past invaded Trowa's repose. It was a memory of walking down a bustling street of commerce, collecting parcels from shops and grocery bags filled with this and that, and right down to the smell of the air and the warmth of the sun, the scene was re-created inside his mind's eye. It was the day that Quatre had been approached by Lady Une with a tempting but odious offer to switch households 'for his own good,' back when the tontine was an item of novelty. However, it wasn't the confrontation with the pushy brunette that Trowa suddenly remembered so vividly--it was the casual walk leading up to that point. The street was full of people, of all ages and descriptions, and of particular importance were the young ladies with lace parasols who kept making googly eyes at Quatre as they passed. Trowa hadn't liked that one bit.

_I remember now, but...why would I be so upset over that?_

It took another fifteen minutes for it to sink in. From the very instant he set eyes on Quatre, sitting in the stands at his cricket match, the two of them had been tightly bonded, and it was all going perfectly well until the concept of love was introduced. _...and then I panicked. But did I panic because I hated the idea...or did I panic because I...sort of...liked it?_

All of a sudden, Trowa couldn't get out of his chair, not even if the house was on fire. It would take another half hour, at the very least, for that thought to sink in, and settle somewhere comfortable next to the others, and if it didn't, Trowa was in danger of being stuck in that chair for good. _I wonder what Duo would think about bringing all my meals up here for the rest of my natural life..._

**********  
  


The café near Eton that Heero had suggested for Quatre's meeting with Dorothy was somehow even more beautiful and decadent than described, even though it came with a persistent warning that Byron might show up unexpectedly. With Wufei keeping watch, however, Quatre felt that Byron was the least of his worries. What was critically important now was getting Dorothy on his side, and that would take a conniving streak that he didn't know whether he had within him. Clutching a file folder full of papers and photographs, he walked confidently into the café wearing a fine borrowed suit and allowed himself to be seated in a secluded booth by one of the waiters, who was dressed almost as finely as he was. After telling the man that he would be joined by a young lady in a short while, he saw Wufei enter through the same door, over the waiter's shoulder, wearing one of his blue satin creations from his interior decorator's wardrobe. He chose a table for himself, refusing all assistance, and positioned himself so that he could keep a casual eye on his charge.

Quatre felt somewhat silly looking so wealthy and partaking of such a posh environment, even though he had a potential fortune dangling over his head like the sword of Damocles. It just wasn't in his nature to be snobbish. He didn't even have the right clothes to wear or any of the expected accessories to keep up the pretense of being well-off; nine-tenths of everything located on his person was sponged off Heero, the last remaining well-dressed person at the manor. The waiter glided back to the table and handed Quatre the brunch menu, and as soon as he was gone, the gardener tried not to gawk at the prices. _How do these people stay rich if this is the way they spend money!?_ He glanced at Heero's pocketwatch, calculated how much time he had to burn before Dorothy arrived, then looked for something that would take enough time to eat without eating up all his pocket money. He settled for a hot cocoa with an ornately sculpted dollop of whipped cream on top.

A short distance away, shielded just perfectly by a potted palm, Wufei was picking out some imported tea for himself, and made surreptitious eye contact with Quatre between the broad green leaves. Quatre silently acknowledged his position, then looked back down at the table, and started fiddling nervously with everything in the place settings. He went all the way from pruning the dead bits off the flowers in the little vase to drawing patterns in the linen tablecloth with his knife before he started deriding the way the whole morning was turning out. _I know Trowa's not really sick. He can't lie like that with me in the room and expect me not to notice! He just didn't want to come along, it's obvious._ Without even knowing it, he had put down the knife and gone back to pulling things off the bunch of flowers, and when he came to, he was slightly horrified to find a small pile of petals and leaves in front of the vase. He looked guiltily to either side and stuck his hands safely under the table.

Then, seven minutes past zero hour, in waltzed a well-dressed lady floating on a cloud of cream-coloured lace. Dorothy had arrived. She presented herself to the waiter who rushed to her side, and after a brief exchange, she was directed to Quatre's booth. With a flip of her hair and a superior smile, she sauntered over and regarded Quatre with a calculating eye before offering any sort of a greeting. "Good morning, my darling," she purred with the tiniest trace of sarcasm.

Quatre remained stone-faced. "Hello."

As Dorothy sat down, a second waiter flew up and handed her another one of the tasselled menus full of over-priced delicacies. She began perusing the very excellent selection, mentally putting together a meal that she laughingly expected would bankrupt the boy. "You're looking well," she said, without looking at him.

"And you're looking...different." The gardener was having trouble computing the sight of Dorothy in that lace dress. Usually she tried to dress at least five years older than she actually was, strangely taking after her mentor, Lady Une, who typically did the opposite. Her gown was made of layer upon layer of pure cream lace, without pearls or sequins or anything gaudy, and her makeup was minimal. "I don't think I've ever seen you wear something so...conservative."

"_Really_, darling, you wouldn't expect me to wear anything but the very best, would you?" she asked, pulling off her satin gloves one at a time. "This is so new, it's _next year's_ fashion."

Quatre raised a disinterested eyebrow, wishing he hadn't mentioned anything. "Is that so?"

Dorothy preened proudly. "Cream is the new white."

"We're here to talk business, if you don't mind."

"Oh, of course." Dorothy twisted a bit in her seat as she saw a waiter walking past with a tray full of Martinis, on his way to another table. She flung out a hand that landed on the young man's thigh, and he shuddered to a stop in shock, leaving him wide open and defenceless against the same hand snatching one of the drinks from his tray. She twisted back and took a hearty sip as the poor, flustered waiter made his escape. Her other hand hung in the air while she savoured the cocktail with eyes closed, and after a prolonged pause, she set it down with a smile. "Now...what was your suggestion again?"

Now Quatre remembered why he was dreading this meeting, and he was rapidly losing patience. Shoving his own menu to the side, he took out his file folder full of documents and whatnot, and laid it on the table between them, pointing a finger down into the centre of it. "I have all the information you need to either tip Hassan off to Treize's interest in my family, or warn Treize about Hassan so he can take action to defend himself. I don't care which one you do, as long as it gets done properly, and in return, your life will be made as comfortable as possible."

Dorothy tucked a finger under her chin adorably, fluttering her eyelashes. "Hm, let me think about it for a minute. No."

Quatre slowly leaned forward against the tabletop, his eyes widening. "...what do you mean, 'no'?"

"You _are_ a silly little boy!" she laughed. "How much more comfortable could you make me than Treize already has? As a benevolent gesture, he and Lady Une took me into their home and now provide me with a lifestyle that is in every way superior to the ratty old existence I suffered at Bridlewood! What could you possibly offer me that could be any better?"

"But you were furious at the pair of them! You never wanted to see them again! For days and days after you went to see Lady Une you did nothing but stomp around the house, whining and moaning about how your life was in tatters! We couldn't get any peace!"

"Then you should be glad I'm gone, instead of trying to lure me back into your good graces!"

"And you shouldn't have suggested that you were interested in my scheme in the first place if you were going to go running back to the jackals who betrayed you!"

By now, people around the café were starting to stare, and one of the senior wait staff, a tallish man with a curled moustache and a red pinstriped waistcoat, walked stiffly over and gave them both a glare. "Does Sir or Madam require any assistance?" he asked snootily. That was one very puny step below asking them to leave; when the public peace was at stake, the customer was _not_ always right.

"No, thank you," Quatre said quietly, sipping his glass of water. Maybe Dorothy didn't care if they got tossed out, but he wasn't finished yet.

"I'll have the veal croquettes, a mango-almond salad with raspberry vinaigrette, and another one of these," Dorothy cooed, handing the now empty Martini glass to the man with a sweet grin. "On the gentleman's bill."

The waiter snuffled. "Very good Madam." Since he was there already, he turned to Quatre with the same look of disdain. "And for you, Sir?"

Quatre hadn't even finished his hot cocoa, and trembled to think of what Dorothy's meal would cost, but he couldn't afford _not_ to appear omnipotently affluent in front of her. "The same," he muttered. Behind the potted palm, Wufei rolled his eyes, shook his head, and squeezed the bridge of his nose in frustration. Then, as soon as the waiter was gone, Quatre leaned well over the table, gripping the edge with two white-knuckled hands, and struggled to look pleasant as he forced calm words out through semi-smiling, tightly-gritted teeth. "We had a verbal agreement."

"Oooh, I'm afraid I have no such recollection," said Dorothy, rearranging her hair in the reflection of an ivory compact taken from her purse. "But don't go getting all upset at _me_ just because you never thought to draw up a written contract. Besides, I'm not shutting the door _entirely_ on collaborating with you...the price has gone up, that's all. If you want my help, you'll have to do better than a few dresses and bits of jewellery. If you can't afford it, you can always find someone else to do your dirty work."

"But there _isn't_ anyone else!" Quatre insisted. "It's _got_ to be you!" At the next table over, Wufei pushed aside the palm leaves and made a frantic slashing gesture across his throat, trying to tell the other boy to shut up already. Quatre's skills at negotiation hadn't evolved much past that of little boys trading baseball cards.

Dorothy put her mirrored compact away and giggled sweetly. "It feels so nice to be needed."

"Alright...just _exactly_ how much is it going to take to get you on our side?"

"Please, I couldn't put it into terms so coarse as _numbers_," the Baroness begged, "but if I had to pick a round figure off the top of my head, I'd say...maybe...a thousand pounds?"

Quatre looked horrified, and he wasn't even trying to hide it anymore. That amount was simply out of the question. "You...you don't mean that."

"Isn't the safety of your sisters worth that much? I'm more intelligent than you've obviously given me credit for," the girl scoffed. "You're not doing this simply to improve my standard of living, you must _want_ something out of the deal, and it's probably going to be some vital secret about what Treize intends to do to your family. If that's what you want, then that's my price, take it or leave it."

At the height of Quatre's anguish, two waiters arrived with two generous helpings of mango-almond salad with raspberry vinaigrette, veal croquettes, and a Martini on the side for the lady. The waiters vanished as quickly as they had appeared, and Quatre looked at the food, swallowing down the unpleasantly acidic taste creeping up his throat.

Dorothy looked at the magnificent spread with aloofness, then gathered up her purse with a tilt of her head. "On second thought, I'm not very hungry this morning. Ta-ta!" She got up and pranced right out of the café, leaving poor Quatre with a table full of food and no appetite whatsoever.

Wufei abandoned his tea and rushed right over to the booth. "What happened!?"

"I...she...uh..." Quatre's mouth kept moving after that, but no sound was coming out, and his hands drifted aimlessly through the air as they tried to describe the utter failure that their master had just suffered. "She didn't quite agree to my terms."

"Why? What'd she say?"

Quatre blinked, possibly from the excess light coming through the crack that had just opened up in the storm clouds all around him. "I thought you could hear us."

Wufei shrugged. "Sometimes I could, sometimes I couldn't."

"We're...still in negotiations," Quatre began, licking his lips and plotting out a new path of retreat. "I'm going to have to pull back, regroup, and try her again some other day."

"Well, how much longer is it going to take?" the other boy asked impatiently.

"I don't know. Look...go home without me. I've got serious thinking to do, and I can't do it in that house."

"I'm not supposed to leave you on your own," Wufei said, shaking his head firmly.

"That's only in this place," Quatre shot back. "Heero never said anything about watching my every move for the rest of the day!"

"Well, what should I tell him?"

Quatre propped one elbow up on the table and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Doesn't matter to me, make up some excuse...I'll explain it to him later."

It didn't matter to Wufei either. He was just as happy to put this soppy little mini-mission behind him and get back to his kung fu training. "Whatever. See you at the next strategy meeting." After that, Wufei was out the door almost as fast as Dorothy.

As Quatre got up to leave, he hadn't yet given any thought to the table full of food in front of him, and the head waiter with the curled moustache rushed right over with a stern expression, ready to remind him. "Has Sir finished with brunch?" The imposing man was standing directly in the boy's way, so there was no escaping without paying the bill.

Of course, Quatre remembered the food, and deflated. He was pretty much stuck with it now, and he looked back up at the head waiter with doe eyes. "Could you possibly box it up for me?"

**********  
  


Lately, Duo loved it when the house was quiet. When everyone was overtired and tucked in bed early, when different clocks ticked just far enough apart from each other that he could only hear them one at a time as he walked through the house, only then was it quiet enough to think. Everything Sally had told him about the images in the big black book went roaring through his head, and though he experienced some mild revulsion at first, when he put himself and Heero in the context of those images, he blushed and smirked mightily even though there was no one there to see it.

_It's lookin' better and better every time I think of it,_ he thought as he made his way from the kitchen to the bedroom. _Problem is...I can already tell that if I even tried to breathe one syllable of this to Heero, I'd come down with an awful case of the giggles. In fact, I might start giggling and never stop. They'd have to haul me away and put me in a specially padded giggle room. Then Heero would visit me in the giggle room, and when they shut the door, we'd--stop that! Do you know how red you're turning!?_ He took a deep breath, and suddenly he was standing in front of the bedroom door. _Well...he's nowhere else in the house...so he must be waiting for me. That's a great feeling._

Looking in all directions to make sure no one was watching, he gave the door handle a silent turn and slipped inside, brimming with enthusiastic anticipation, and wondering if he would have the nerve to make this night more important than all other nights. His hope was brutally quashed, however, when he finally found his partner. _Whoa...cancel that, he looks pretty rough._

Heero was alone except for Shadow, who was curled up in her basket, yawning. A roaring fire illuminated the otherwise sombre room, and the butler was seated cross-legged in front of it on a thick, imported Kashmiri rug with a lily pattern, slumped forward slightly as though from overall fatigue. His jacket and tie were slung over the back of an armchair, leaving him in his shirt and waistcoat, soaking up the heat of the flames. Papers were scattered all around, the only official evidence of his existence, and it appeared as though he had been poring over every scrap, fruitlessly. Now, all he held in his hands was the mysterious stuffed tiger, lovingly cleaned up by Hilde, who never intruded on his privacy with unnecessary questions about the toy. As he turned the animal over slowly in both hands, his eyes seemed to glaze over and look slightly past it, into the sparking flames, perhaps irrevocably lost.

Duo shut the door, but was too preoccupied with the scene to lock it securely, as was their custom. He loosened a few of the buttons on his chef's uniform as he approached with caution, and leaned over a bit, trying to catch Heero's eye. "You okay?"

Heero looked up at once, seeming only halfway normal and not at all well, but he forced a tiny smile. "Fine. Just going over a few things."

"Oh yeah?" Duo chirped with interest as he sat down on Heero's right, after clearing a big enough space. "Whatcha lookin' for?"

"Nothing, really. It's not important." The way the muscles around Heero's eyes crinkled and strained gave his secret away. He was in so many different kinds of pain that he could never hope to separate and name them, but he wouldn't let Duo worry for one second of his suffering.

Duo looked away hopelessly. _Here we go...it's gonna be another one of those long nights, full of tossing and turning. He thinks I don't know the way he's been knocking back the painkillers, but I see all and hear all. Poor guy._ "Well, if you made this big a mess since dinner, you must have found something..."

Heero shook his head. "Nothing I didn't already know...nothing I haven't already lived through." He put the tiger aside and pulled his knees off the floor, wrapping both arms around them to clasp in the middle, sitting up ramrod straight. It looked like a very meditative position, but it took a lot more effort to maintain, which was just one more way that he tried to look strong and in control. "We haven't heard anything about Dorothy yet. Maybe she's proving to be a hindrance again. We'll have to devise a new strategy...someone that shallow shouldn't be so difficult to outwit."

Unseen, Duo rolled his eyes, then picked up a piece of paper at random and read it thoroughly. It was a timetable for achievement in seek-and-destroy field testing, written when Heero was about twelve. Judging by his trainers' comments in the left margin, they were pleased with his progress; he had not only surpassed the expected success rate by the age of fourteen, but his marks were in the very upper nineties, called 'remarkable' by the scrawly black handwriting with no name. "Looks like they put a lot of work into you," Duo said. "Kinda makes you wonder why they haven't tried to take you back, doesn't it?"

"No one individual is that important to the organization. If they can't be bothered seeking me out, they must have more pressing matters to attend to. Proper management of resources is vital to any strategy."

Again, there was an exaggerated eye-roll, this time accompanied by a heavy sigh. "Would you stop that?"

Heero glared accusingly at him. "Stop what?"

"Stop...talking like an army general! It's just you and me here, there's nobody you have to impress!"

"I'm not _trying_ to impress anyone, that's just how I talk!" Agitated, Heero shuffled around and ended up half-turned away from Duo, but still staring into the fire, with an arm propped up on one knee as a barrier between them. "You should know this by now. It's the way I am."

Duo's eyes turned mournful, and he went all slack and non-threatening from the neck down. "No it's not. The _real_ you is nothing _like_ this." Heero didn't move closer, but also didn't turn farther away, either, and Duo made a well thought out guess. "That's what you're going through these papers looking for...the real you. You hoped it'd be in here, somewhere...something that would tell you you're not a homicidal puppet, and after all your searching, all you've got is..." He pointed off to Heero's left, where the toy tiger laid flat on the floor. "...is Mister Stripey over there."

Heero squinted at the fire. He didn't want to argue. Arguing made the pain even worse, but then so did the fire. Nevertheless, he kept on staring, no matter how much it hurt. "We shouldn't be wasting time on this. There's the tontine to think of, and the Cinq Association's fiscal meeting, and--"

"Oh, _screw_ the meeting!!" Duo yelled, rearing up on his knees and throwing a fistful of papers at Heero's head. The other boy flinched, then leaned away from the attack and looked back at Duo in anger and shock. "_How_ can I get _through_ to you!? You're spending every last drop of your energy on fixing things for other people and you've never got anything left for yourself! Look after Quat and his family problems! Turn Treize and Dorothy against each other! Plot Byron's day-to-day movements on a big friggin' pie chart with circles and arrows and colour-coded ink! Every hour God sends gets spent on them, them, _them_, and you won't be caught thinking about your own problems for _one minute_! You are _not_ a waste of time!!"

There was a numbing silence after the tongue-lashing, during which Heero huffed with tightly constrained anger and resumed his original slumping cross-legged position on the rug. "What do you _want_ me to say?" he spat.

As the molten lava and ice water slowly stopped clashing in Duo's veins, he stopped to look at the mood he'd created, and felt terribly ashamed. This was not the evening he had envisioned. Even Shadow was on edge now, startled by the violent rustling of papers, and she was prowling crankily around the bedroom, clawing things at random. The disappointment felt by one half of Duo's brain calmed the other half down, and he sat back on his heels as he tried to reorganize his thoughts into a more serene shape. "I want..." Another long pause followed. "I want to see you get fired up about something _other_ than the mission...preferably yourself. I want you to stop feeling guilty about having problems to begin with, and if you _have_ to wage war against Jeffrhyss and the others, I want you to do it for _you_. Not because it's a noble thing to save the world, but because _they deserve_ to hurt as badly as they've hurt you." Duo got right back down on the carpet, cross-legged and hanging his arms off his knees, facing Heero directly. "I wanna hear you say that it bothers you."

All the while, Heero had been watching the chef's overly-animated face make the passionate case he should have been willing to make for himself, and afterwards, he looked back at the fire. The entire left side of his head was throbbing, making it even harder to think and absolutely brutal to see, so he shut his eyes and tried to waft away from the moment, in order to see all sides at once. When he opened his eyes again, they were lit with tiny red fires of their own, and he turned his head to show Duo the full and frightening extent of his suppressed rage. "It _bothers_ me."

Duo swallowed squeamishly. "...good..."

"It bothers me that I don't know who I am," Heero said forcefully, picking up the toy tiger again. "It bothers me that I ended up in Jeffrhyss' hands because no one else wanted me. It bothers me that someone obviously wanted me to remember something from my childhood, but that there's nothing to remember. I can't stand the thought of never doing anything other than fighting and organizing and strategizing, but that's all I know _how_ to do!!" With the tiger still in his right hand, he scooped up a large handful of papers while spouting some angry and indecipherable Japanese, and lunged backwards with his whole body, the arm poised to fling the lot into the fire. Startled, Duo grabbed the arm with both hands and wrestled it back down, and when Heero realised what he was about to do, he slumped over again, cringing bitterly.

The whole thing was scary, and as Duo rubbed the other boy's shoulders, it was to calm himself down as much as it was to bring Heero back to reality. _That's a lot of anger. I wanted him to get a little worked up about it, but this is a bit much..._

"I'm tired," Heero breathed out with great effort. "I'm _so_ tired of this. I've been at it for nearly _fourteen years_, and I see nothing but more of the same ahead of me. I think I'm...scared...that by the time all this goes away...I won't have anything left in me to deal with...with....." He couldn't even finish the thought. Duo unravelled himself and crawled closer, putting an arm around Heero's shoulders as he hung his head in despair. This was more than plain frustration--it was a deep depression that the stoic leader had been hiding from his troops, lest they lose confidence in him, and the mission as well. "I'm sorry for being so angry."

"Why?" Duo asked. "You've got a perfect right to be upset at the monsters who ruined your life, anyone would."

Heero shook his head. "You don't understand..." He straightened up and looked at Duo, tucking his toy tiger into the empty watch pocket on his waistcoat. "How can I justify being dissatisfied with my life so far? I like knowing my education is at least five times better than most of the people I pass on the street, and I like knowing I could fend off most any attacker."

Duo squinted. "Well, sure, those things are nice, but they can't possibly be worth all the pain they put you through..."

In that short time alone, Heero had re-composed himself into the picture of confidence and serenity he always presented to the world, and he gave Duo a tiny shrug. "Maybe they're not...but you are." Duo looked surprised and puzzled, and then slightly hurt as he appeared to wonder if he was being blamed for a lifetime of hardship, so Heero quickly elaborated. "If my parents had never brought me here and given me away, what are the odds that I ever would have met you?"

Then, Duo understood, and he smiled shyly. "Probably not much."

"Exactly. And you were well worth the trouble." He snaked an arm around Duo's waist, pulling him closer, and Duo gratefully curled up to his side, nuzzling his neck. Other arms followed the pattern, and they were soon wrapped up snugly together. The warmth of the fire seemed to triple as it swirled all the way around them, and Heero reached up with one hand to lightly brush at Duo's hair while inhaling it's enticing scent, always pleasing to the senses and reminiscent of whatever Duo had been baking that day. Just then, it was cinnamon rolls with rich vanilla frosting. Heero squeezed him just a little bit tighter. "I also don't think anyone else could have gotten that out of me."

"It's why I'm here," Duo said in a low but cheery tone. "I'm sorry I went nuts like that...I just can't help worrying, but it sounds like you've got a better grasp of your troubles than I thought. I've already gathered that you don't want me to be worried about you, but it's not gonna go away until you make your peace with the world. If you still feel you have to take care of everybody else, then okay..." Duo lifted his head off Heero's shoulder and gazed into his ocean blue eyes, their noses less than a hand's breadth apart. Being so close to him triggered the memories of the big black book, and the tantalizing images tried to work their way from the back of Duo's brain to the front, but something got in their way, something pure and clean that existed independently from his passions. "...but you have to promise...to let _me_ take care of _you_." As his voice dropped to a whisper, Duo reached up and dragged a hand down the side of Heero's face, and then his neck, coming to rest on the buttons of his shirt collar. An invisible magnetic force pulled their eyes shut and their lips closer together, ending their fight and beginning a long, sweet kiss, filled with only the purest thoughts of love.

Small bits of that purity trickled away as Duo's hand involuntarily worked open the first three buttons of Heero's shirt and slipped inside, sliding flat against his chest, around his shoulder and back again in a slow circle. Heero responded by deepening the kiss, pressing Duo backwards as if about to lay him flat on his back in the soft pile carpet. He didn't press too hard, letting Duo make that decision for himself, but Duo was stopped short of flopping eagerly backwards by a nagging, disturbing thought that he hadn't locked the bedroom door. _If anyone walked in right now...but.....mmm...can't seem to move from this spot. Oh well. I was supposed to remember something...riiiight, the black book. Eh...y'know, this is pretty nice all by itself._ Duo smiled into the kiss and draped an arm around the back of Heero's neck, leaning backwards ever so subtly.

"...mrrow!" Somewhere in the room, a little bell jingled. The boys brought their interlude to a befuddled pause and broke slightly apart, just in time to see Shadow whip past them in front of the fire, chasing her jingle ball. They released each other with soft, sighing laughter and sat apart as they watched her bat the ball around in the corner.

"It's going to be hell getting her back to sleep," said Heero tiredly. As soon as he said it, he stopped to make a thorough self-status check, and found that his headache was greatly diminished. All that was left was a faint feeling of tension in his left temple, but that was all.

Smirking, Duo got up, undoing the remaining buttons on his tunic and heading for the chest of drawers where his pajamas were kept. "Well, I'll leave you to it, since you're so good with animals, an' all," he teased.

Heero glared, friendly-like. "Thanks." He pushed himself up into a standing position and started towards Shadow's corner, but halted, and turned back to the chef. "When did I even suggest making a colour-coded pie chart about Byron?" he asked sarcastically.

"It wasn't you? Oops!" Duo laughed, digging out his night clothes. As Heero wrinkled his nose at him and turned away, Duo guessed that he'd be long asleep by the time the cat was calmed down. While Heero talked to Shadow in quiet, soothing tones, urging her back towards her basket, Duo looked at the bedroom door and smiled again. _Whaddaya know. Nobody walked in. Maybe our luck's finally turning around._ When he crawled into bed, he propped himself up on one elbow and watched the wonderful care and patience that Heero took when dealing with Shadow. He certainly looked to be in much better shape than he did only a few minutes earlier.

_I can heal him,_ Duo decided. _With some help from the whiskered one, of course._ There was an excellent chance that Heero's depression was still there, under the surface, as strong as ever, but Duo vowed to chip away at it for as long as Heero needed him to. Then, he thought about what he was hoping to accomplish that night, and how he had missed the mark by a wide margin. The big black book had made no influence on the evening, but it still turned out pretty nice. That kiss threatened to be one of their best, better than Christmas Eve when Duo had snuck a sprig of mistletoe from the ball and brought it to bed with him, and even better than a week later, when Heero had led Duo into a coat cupboard for their second New Year's kiss, as the rest of the staff counted off the final seconds of 1902 in the parlour two doors down.

In a few moments, Heero would be collapsing into bed, exhausted as usual, and that would be that for another day. Duo couldn't force himself to regret not venturing beyond that kiss, even though the black book was telling him to, very loudly in fact, from under the mattress. He settled down into his pillow, curled up into a warm little ball and waited quite contentedly; it wasn't the grand event of passion he thought he was hoping for, but it was good enough for tonight.

**********  
  


Quatre finally skulked back into the house around 11:30, still carrying the hateful little white boxes full of over-priced and under-heated food from the café. He hadn't decided what to tell Heero. The meeting had been a total disaster.

He shut the back door to the kitchen quietly and leaned back against it, pausing for a long bout of self-recrimination before unbuttoning his coat. After taking only a step and a half into the kitchen area, he froze; there was a green and brown lump flopped over the kitchen table, looking suspiciously like Trowa with his head laid down on his arms, facing the other way. Apart from wondering what he was doing there at such a late hour, Quatre also wondered if he could sneak past into the bedroom without waking him. Apparently he couldn't, for the very next step landed on one of the cracked floor tiles, and the two pieces of stoneware clanked lightly against each other under the boy's weight. Trowa lifted his head immediately, and the pair of them stared at each other for a long time. Eventually, Quatre broke the silence himself, but having used up his entire arsenal of honesty on entirely the wrong people that day, he said one thing and thought something else.

"What's the matter? Can't sleep?" _Were you waiting up for me?_

Trowa ran a hand through his bangs, and continued the trend of duplicity without realising it. "I dunno." _Of course I was waiting up for you. I was worried._ "Yeah, maybe."

"How's your throat?" _I know you lied to me._

"Still kinda scratchy. Not as bad as it was, though." _I didn't mean to lie, it just happened. I wish it hadn't._

Quatre set the boxes on the counter, went to hang up his coat on the pegboard next to the door, and slowly walked back to the table. "You shouldn't stay up too late. If you're sick, you need your sleep." _If you're not going to talk about what's bothering you properly, you might as well go to bed._

Trowa shrugged. "Well, I was in here looking for a snack earlier...I didn't have much of an appetite today, but now I'm getting a little woozy from not eating." _I want to talk. I just don't know how to get started._

"Want some of this?" Quatre asked, pointing a thumb at the little cardboard boxes. _Well...I'm willing to give you a chance._

"What is it?" _Better not be anything coconut in there..._

"Uh...cold veal...some mango-raspberry thing..." He went to collect the boxes, and opened the one on the top as he spread them out in front of Trowa, sniffing delicately and wondering about their fitness for consumption. "It cost me a mint, but don't feel you have to eat it just because of that. I've been carrying them all over town unrefrigerated..."

"It's ten degrees outside. Of course it's refrigerated."

Finally, Quatre laughed a bit, and felt enough at ease to sit down next to Trowa. "I could blast it in the oven for you..."

"Actually..." Trowa poked around in the boxes and saw that there was quite a lot of veal and mango-raspberry stuff. "...I don't think I could eat all that by myself anyway. Maybe...if you wanted to help..."

Upset though he was, Quatre knew an invitation when he heard one. He smiled faintly and took the box of veal croquettes over to the oven, and studied it to figure out how to turn it on. Trowa dug out plates and silverware, dishing out some of the bizarre salad on each to tide them over until the main course was ready, and once it was warming in the oven, they sat down and dove ravenously into whatever was in front of them. After the first few bites, Quatre hung his head a bit, ready to make his grand confession. "I blew it, Trowa. Dorothy won't do anything for us without a thousand pounds in advance. She saw how weak I was, and she went right for the throat."

Trowa's eyes ballooned, which looked quite comical hovering over cheeks bulging with food. He stopped chewing until the initial shock wore off, then swallowed with some effort and put down his fork. "Why would she do that? I thought she was desperate to get back at Lady Une!"

"I thought so too, but..." Quatre sighed and shook his head. "Someone else should have talked to her. I was bound to make a mess of it, no matter what happened."

"That's not true..." Without stopping to think, Trowa reached out and clasped Quatre's hand, the way he always used to when the blond boy was upset about something. "We'll just have to keep thinking until we outsmart her, that's all. I'll even help...if you want me to."

The pair of them totally forgot that they were a little bit mad at each other as their eyes met, and for a few moments, the last month or so of tragic misunderstandings disappeared altogether. A little while later, when the veal croquettes came out of the oven, they sat down and had a real conversation for the first time in ages, and though it wasn't exactly as free and easy as it used to be, it was still a good feeling. It was good enough for tonight.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Seventy-Two: Wufei reveals something disturbing to Hilde about his allegiance, leaving her torn over what to do. Duo convinces Heero to set the mission aside temporarily, so that they might discover more about the strange toy tiger._

*sure hopes this will upload properly into FFN* If it doesn't, I'm going to have to write somebody a letter. =P Anyway. How are you all? Haven't talked to ya in a long time! So, now I'm gonna check my email, and there's art to be posted, and pages to be redesigned, and...aw, you know what I'm like, promises, promises. =^-^= Mark down January 27th for the next episode. (I could have it ready for the 26th, but I'd be a fool to mess with Super Bowl Sunday...especially since my editor will be neck-deep in pre-game shows all weekend. =9_9'=


	72. Two Minutes A Day

  
  


**Disclaimer:** I know, from traipsing through every store, mall, and boutique in the Greater Toronto Area, that nobody has Gundam pilots for sale. I even offered to pay retail instead of the supposed sale price, but they still said no. Therefore, I cannot possibly own these magnificent examples of manhood, or the chicks they hang out with. Do not sue me. I have no money except that miniscule amount reserved for presents.

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Seventy-Two: Two Minutes A Day

_"Know thyself." ~Plato _

January 27th, 1903

Since getting off the streets, Duo rarely felt that there could be anything but a positive start to any given day, but an unexpected arrival in the mail broke his streak of consecutive cheery mornings. It was only minutes before the gang was heading to the pub for a meeting when he got another letter from Helen. Part of him wanted to leave it in a drawer until he got back, but morbid curiosity forced him to open it, and he was flatly depressed by the message it contained. Helen was even more insistent that Duo turn around his life of sin and flee to Ireland. The language she used was clearer than in the first letter, but it was never harsh. She refused to judge him, and filled the letter with references to how worried she was, and how much she cared for him. Still, the request was the same, and Duo couldn't bear to think of it. He tucked the letter inside a cookbook and went on with his day.

At the pub, in their perpetually reserved meeting room, things were quiet. Quatre was keeping quiet about how he botched things with Dorothy, Trowa was keeping quiet about his confusion about Quatre, Duo was keeping quiet because of his personal problems, and Heero was keeping quiet because he couldn't understand why everyone else was keeping quiet. Within the first half hour, the meeting had deteriorated into a discussion of the subtle variations in the leading brands of hand cream, being carried on by the girls far at the other end of the table.

Just when it looked like the group couldn't be less productive, Wufei appeared at the meeting room door, having made a quick foray to his room at the other end of the building for something. "Here it is," he said, holding up a leather-bound book small enough to fit in a pocket. He brought it over to Heero's end of the table and tossed it to him nonchalantly. "Giorgenson's address book. I've already checked it over for viable leads, so...I don't know what you expect to find." He sauntered over to the middle of the table and leaned back into a chair, apart from the others.

Heero dove immediately into the book, with Duo looking closely, very closely, over his shoulder. Nobody seemed particularly interested in what they were looking for, so they felt safe in whispering about it. "What _are_ we looking for?"

"I won't know it until I see it, but we've tried everywhere else," Duo said, referring to their search for the story behind Heero's stuffed tiger. "We've been to toy stores, antique dealers, seamstresses...there isn't a single person in town that's got anything useful to say about Mister Stripey, so we've gotta expand our thinking. In all his years playing the game with Jeffrhyss, the guy must've known _somebody_ who's been to the far east."

"But even if we find a person like that, what are the odds that they've seen a tiger _exactly_ like mine? It's absolutely astronomical..."

"Never mind that, just keep flipping pages." The premise Duo was working from was reasonably sound. People involved in 'the big game' generally had a wealth of contacts in every field, because one never knew when such people would come in handy. Heero slowly turned page after page of names and addresses, however, without seeing anyone remotely helpful. Duo had much less knowledge of what was useful and what wasn't, but something caught his eye that just begged for an explanation. "Whoa, stop...what's that?"

"Where?"

"Right there! What's that word?" The chef was pointing to a label given to a gentleman named Professor Forbes. He squinted and sounded out the syllables, one at a time. "Or-ni-tho-lo-gy."

"The study of birds," Heero said.

"And what about that one...sees-mol--"

"No, _seis_mology," the butler corrected. "That's the study of earthquakes."

"Okay..." The third strange word, Duo wasn't even going to attempt; it was far easier to point.

"...eschatology," Heero said carefully.

"In English?"

"Um..." The all-knowing agent was finally stumped, and scowled at the word for being such an etymological pain.

"The study of judgement in the afterlife," someone said. Several heads turned, wanting to know who had piped up with the morbid answer, and they were all surprised to see that it was Quatre. He was leaning all the way forward with his head resting on his folded arms, and woke from his semi-sleep just long enough to deliver the information.

Heero turned halfway around and squinted at Duo. "What are you getting at?"

"Just look at all those scientific-type guys!" Duo chirped with enthusiasm. "They've all got room numbers next to their names, so I'll bet they're from the university. All those 'ologies are probably what department they teach in. Giorgenson knew what he was doing, hanging out at Oxford, 'cause it's full of smart people!"

Heero looked at another name on the page, read its corresponding department, and shook his head. "Paleozoologists don't study soft toys from other countries."

"Yeah, but even if _they_ don't know, they might know _other_ people who don't know, y'know?" Duo stopped and frowned; he was starting to confuse himself. Shaking it off, he pointed to another name. "It's gotta be worth a try, and we're plum running out of ideas here. Look at what he's got written down at the bottom there...'Professor Wickstrand, way too smart, knows too much,' and he's got a little smiley-face with a sticky-out tongue. If that's not a ringing endorsement, I don't know what is."

This 'Wickstrand' came under the dual category of anthropology and ethnology, but Heero was still doubtful; after all, Oxford was a long way to go on such a flimsy lead, but they had already scoured the city looking for answers and come up empty-handed. He shrugged and tucked the address book into his pocket. "I guess it couldn't hurt."

Duo cheered and slapped him on the back, and they began making plans to leave as soon as the meeting was over. It was the most interesting thing going on at the table, and that had Wufei extremely perturbed. With a roll of his eyes and a soft snort, he leapt out of his chair and gruffly exited the meeting room. He was frequently in a bad mood lately, so few were surprised at the abruptness of his departure, but Hilde was concerned. Excusing herself from her own conversation with Sally and Lucrezia, she crept out into the hall and caught up with him as he was about to push through the swinging door that led to the main pub area. "Wufei! Wait!"

The boy turned around with a tired expression. "What is it?"

"You're not ditching us already, are you?" the maid asked worriedly. "The meeting hasn't been officially adjourned yet."

"As if there's any point in staying," Wufei scoffed. "If I have to waste _one_ more day listening to his nonsensical drivel--"

"Whose?"

"Heero's!" he spat. "The whole world may soon be crashing in on us, and all he can be bothered with is tracking down some stupid toymaker!"

Hilde approached him carefully, hanging onto the top edge of her white apron with one hand. "I know things seem a bit slow right now, but it's our duty to support Heero in whatever he does. He's our leader."

Wufei's chocolate brown eyes turned icy cold all at once, and he glared right through the girl. "He's not _much_ of a leader." Expecting no reply, he pushed through the swinging door and disappeared. Hilde was overcome by a brief but violent chill that left her trembling lightly for about a minute. As shocking as those few words were, she sensed that there could be even more harsh statements boiling beneath Wufei's skin, and before she went back into the meeting room, pretending that all was well, she vowed to discover them, no matter how much it hurt.

**********  
  


The stuffed tiger, the scrap of cloth, the rice paper message, and the contract of sale that supposedly sealed Lord Jeffrhyss and Heero's parents together by law, all went with him and Duo on the train to Oxford. They arrived in mid-morning and diligently searched the campus until they located Professor Wickstrand's office, which looked at least as spacious as Giorgenson's, possibly larger. He even had his own secretary, a matronly woman who took the boys' names, after several tries, and found it difficult to believe that they hadn't come to dispute a grade on their term papers.

Professor Wickstrand actually had three other appointments, for which he was already late, and the students trickled in and took their seats next to the outsiders in the modestly-decorated waiting room, knowing the Professor's reputation for tardiness better than anyone. After a brief and amiable introduction, the other boys told Heero and Duo that they'd be better off going for lunch while they waited, and the suggestion was gratefully implemented. They left, spent more than an hour in the commissary, came back, and there was still time to wait before Wickstrand's door opened, and he ejected the last of the disgruntled students from his office.

"Now, I want you to rewrite your essay, and pay careful attention to the differences between the Bantus and the Hottentots," said the Professor, a balding, thickly-sideburned man with tiny round spectacles that perched delicately on the end of his nose. He exuded a tremendous energy and passion for his field of study, but it was the kind that was shoved upon others less than successfully, permanently welded to an overbearing personality. "Have it to me by the end of next week, and don't neglect your report on the Torres Strait Islanders either!" He shoved the boy out into the waiting room and called out, "Next!"

Silently, Duo and Heero were rethinking this expedition. Hesitantly, they stood and gazed almost fearfully at the man, and Duo scratched nervously at the back of his neck where he had tucked his braid down the back of his jacket. They glanced sideways at each other, wondering which of them was going to speak to the strange man first.

The decision was taken out of their hands the second Wickstrand laid eyes on Heero. His own eyes glazed over, his jaw dropped, and he let out a peculiar hoot of pure wonder. In a flash, he grabbed Heero by the arm, pulled him into his office, and positioned him in the centre of the room, while slamming the door on Duo, whom he seemed not to notice.

Duo stared at the closed door, his bangs slightly swaying in the momentary breeze. He blinked a few times, peeked innocently at the disinterested secretary, took a quick sniff under his arm, shrugged, then dared to step through the door uninvited. The rude professor seemed to be attacking Heero with a semi-circular metal instrument.

"Don't move, don't move!" Wickstrand shouted as he hovered around the boy, holding a pair of wide-jawed calipers to his head.

Heero tried to lean away from the unwelcome measuring device, but the Professor kept pulling him back. "But I only came to--"

"Sh sh shhh!" Wickstrand hushed, waving his arms frantically about. "Don't speak either! I can't take this measurement if you do!"

Duo shut the door beihnd him and walked just far enough into the room for Heero to shrug wide-eyed at him. The old Englishman kept holding the calipers up to Heero's face, and hastily writing down numbers in a notebook produced from his cherrywood desk, all the while making happy little noises that sounded like 'My word!' and 'Fascinating!' He studiously recorded the angle of Heero's jaw, the length of his nose, the distance between his eyes, and at least a dozen more spans stretching all around his head. Heero was afraid to duck during the barrage in case the swiftly-moving calipers poked him in the eye.

"...and nine sixteenths," Wickstrand muttered excitedly as he wrote down the last number, for the moment. Then he straightened up and fiddled with his pen, his old, crinkly eyes dancing. "Quite, quite astonishing! Tell me...which side of your family is Japanese?"

Heero gaped at the question. The man hadn't even heard his name yet, but somehow narrowed down his gene pool to a very specific area of the world. The 'which side of your family' bit was also disturbing. "How did you..." As quickly as Heero could haul up a small bucket of words, the well ran dry.

Wickstrand hushed him again anyway, then scampered behind the desk, where he produced another book, this one much larger than the first. "Tut tut, it's not magic, this is what I've done for decades, and I have an astonishing rate of accuracy! Now, if you would, sir, I would be _most_ appreciative if you just jotted down your name on the next available line," he said, opening the book and twirling it around on the desk, at the same time producing a pot of ink and an antique quill pen. On the lined pages were the names of many other unfortunates who had stumbled into the man's office and been accosted with metal devices.

Heero slowly walked to the desk and reached out for the pen, but the rest of him had yet to catch up with the situation. He abruptly wondered why he was still there, if this man insisted on making absolutely no sense, and his efficient side was telling him to turn around, go home, and get some real work done. Nevertheless, he picked up the pen, and didn't know why. "I won't pretend to understand what this is about...but what we've come for is identification of a few artifacts, if possible."

"Please, please, your _name_," Wickstrand insisted rapidly, thumping the half-empty page with one finger. Heero scowled at being pushed around, but if it meant getting on with his inquiry, a signature was a minor sacrifice of time. He scrawled out his name, letting the English characters flow where they wanted to, instead of defaulting to his difficult-to-trace schoolteacher's handwriting. Once it was down on the paper, he replaced the old-fashioned pen and stood back as Wickstrand rotated the book around and watched with an almost carnal satisfaction as the ink dried. "Heero...Yuy," he read with perfect intonation. "I assume you reversed your given name and family name for my benefit?"

Again, Heero was lost, shaking his head in confusion. "I don't know what you mean."

The Professor squinted sympathetically at the boy. "Oh, no, of course you don't, poor little mite. You've been away from your people for far too long." He pointed elegantly to a nearby chair. "Do sit down."

Glancing to his left, Heero availed himself of the plain wooden chair as the old man seated himself in a big, brown leather monstrosity. Desperate curiosity was doing battle with very limited patience inside Heero's mind, and it was only the suspicion that the annoying fellow knew something important that kept him from walking straight out. Duo, slightly offended at being totally ignored, began wandering around the spacious office and looking at the paintings and photographs on the walls, though he kept one ear turned to the conversation at all times.

"I used to get a great deal of visitors like you in the past, you see," Wickstrand explained, flipping wistfully through page after gilt-edged page of names. "Orphans, most of them...lost souls, adrift in an uncaring world, without any corner of it to call their home. I was the leading anthropological expert in the whole of the Empire, so eventually all these people trickled in to see me, so that I could help them to know themselves. A lifetime of study into the minute physical variations among the 'races' of man, for lack of a better term, made my humble office a Mecca for these hundreds of lonely people."

"That...may be a slight exaggeration in my case," said Heero doubtfully.

"But not a _total_ one," the Professor corrected him. He leaned forward on his elbows, laced his hands together, and rested his chin against them lightly. "You truly _believe_ yourself to be Japanese, do you not?"

Duo saw, as he looked over, that Heero was mired even deeper in bewilderment. "Shouldn't I?" he asked in something approaching a frightened child's voice.

"Who told you this?" asked Wickstrand.

"No one," Heero answered after a long pause. That much was entirely true. Nobody in the organization had ever sat him down and told him 'You are Japanese,' it was just something he had always known, and seemed to confirm independantly once he was permitted contact with the outside world. The occasional magazine or newspaper article provided him with snippets of information about his supposed culture, but that was all he ever had.

"You should believe it, to an extent," Wickstrand said with a nod. "You show some very strong oriental characteristics, particularly in the lower facial bone structure," he added, pointing to areas of the boy's face, "but I would estimate your lineage to be only _half_ Japanese, three-quarters at the very most."

Suddenly, Heero was intrigued. "You can tell...just by _looking_ at me?"

"Well, I'll show you, and you can judge for yourself!" The Professor launched himself out of his chair and went to a tall wooden cabinet the same deep, rich colour as the desk, with Duo and Heero close behind. He began shuffling through the messy contents of the cabinet, starting at the first of five shelves and working his way down. "I've had the pleasure of many research trips to five continents, and my team and I always brought back _extensive_ photographic records of the local faunae...rituals and whatnot...blasted woman's been in here 'cleaning' again. Where did she..."

Some mutterings and flutters of old, crumbling paper later, the Professor turned around with a great scrapbook in his hands, which he opened to a specific page and held up in front of the boys. The entire page was taken up by a single, huge photograph of typically unsmiling people. A younger Professor Wickstrand stood in the centre, dressed in a drab suit that wasn't any more stylish then than it was now, and surrounding him were an assortment of men, women, and children with bushy black hair, narrow eyes, and angular faces. The caption at the bottom read: 'The Peoples of Japan -- City Dwellers.'

Duo looked fluidly back and forth between the people in the photograph and Heero's worried face. "He's right, you know," the chef said quietly. "You don't...really...look like them. I mean, you sorta do, but...you sorta don't."

"I might also add that, while a simple photograph cannot possibly do the subjects proper justice," said the Professor, "in my experience it is _most_ extraordinary for a full-blooded Japanese to have brown hair and blue eyes. Therefore it is easy to conclude that you are likely some sort of a mixed breed." The old man was so proud of his conclusion, and his rare find, that he had no concept of how rude and insulting that conclusion was.

Heero still didn't know what he thought of the facts themselves, whether to be happy, sad, indifferent, or otherwise. "Then...what else could I be?"

Wickstrand pointed at him and smiled. "I've already formulated a theory about that." He went flipping through the scrapbook again, stopping a few pages further in, at another large photograph. "In my travels, I came across an aboriginal tribe that had very little written about it in the typical journals and textbooks. They inhabit a relatively small area including groups of islands north of mainland Japan, and have quite the peaceful existence..." As he turned the book around to display the new page, the boys leaned in together, with identical knots in their stomachs.

There was the Professor in the middle again, but the scenery and the people surrounding him had changed. They were stocky, burly people, with wavy hair and, in the case of the men, long beards, and they were dressed in hand-woven fabrics bearing swirling geometric designs. Each of them held some sort of craft, like an painted earthenware jug or a basket of dried fish, and they stood closely together, like a family. Underneath the photo was printed: 'Native People of Kuril, Sakhalin, and Hokkaido -- The Ainu.'

At the height of the boys' transfixion with the image, there was a knock at the Professor's door. He had a sudden flash of mental scheduling and looked at the grandfather clock in the corner. "Oh dear...I'm late for another appointment...a truancy case, if I recall. This won't take a moment," he blurted, and he all but shoved the scrapbook into Heero's hands on his way out of the office.

The door slammed. The people in the picture stared up at Heero, invitingly, and he couldn't stop staring back, entreating even one of them to make a move, breathe a syllable, do anything to indicate that he belonged with them. He wanted to know what belonging felt like, in the good sense, rather than being an asset of an underground conglomerate. Reason suggested that the two feelings were different, but he just wanted to be sure.

"Well?" Duo was looking at him now, curious and concerned. "What do you think?"

Heero found that he couldn't answer right away; something buried in his brain was getting in the way between the words and his mouth. Slowly, he strode over to the desk and laid the scrapbook down flat on top of the book of orphans' names, and then reached trancelike into his inside jacket pocket, taking out the little toy tiger. He loosened the blue ribbon at the back of the animal's neck, turned him over, and pulled out the two items that had originally been found inside, the piece of rice paper and the scrap of cloth. The cloth of white, gold, and navy blue had a very distinct pattern embroidered into it, and when Heero held the fabric up to the photograph, a striking similarity jumped out at him. Many of the people in the picture were wearing embroidered tunics, and they each had their own pattern. They were precise yet organic, rigid in some places and fluid in others. The scrap of cloth the toy tiger carried looked as though it could have been freshly plucked out of the photo that very moment. It was the pinnacle of uncanny.

Then, next to the scrap of cloth, Heero placed the strip of rice paper with the slightly frayed edges, bearing the Japanese characters for 'Remember always.' He straightened up and stared at the tableau strangely. _Is this what you wanted me to remember? If it was so important to you that I know who I am, why did you get rid of me in the first place? Why didn't you want me?_ He waited a long time for the answer, but the people in the picture remained silent, as though they didn't know to whom he was referring.

There was a hand on Heero's shoulder that he hadn't noticed before. He snapped out of his peculiar reverie to meet Duo's eyes at last, and the chef raised both eyebrows at the collage. "It's still kinda hard to see the resemblance..."

"True," Heero said firmly, out of a need to hear some kind of confidence. "It's still more believable than the bulk of my life put together," he said as he took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeve, and compared his smooth, tanned forearm to the big, hairy meathooks dangling from the tunics in the photo. "You could package it up into chapters and sell it to a magazine."

Duo smirked a bit. "Somehow I can't visualize your face on the cover of a penny dreadful."

As Heero stepped back from the items on the desk and rearranged his clothing, he grabbed the alien feeling of abandonment, put it in a choke hold, and threw it to the floor. It felt like a shameful moment of weakness, standing there and pining after whatever it was tying together these people he would never know. After all, the ideal of self-sufficiency had been drilled into him ever since forever. Doing up the button on his cuff, he turned away and walked aimlessly from the desk. "I'm not sure I care, now...it shouldn't matter anyway...what's running through my veins and what isn't..."

"Of _course_ it..." Duo glanced quickly at the door, ran up to Heero's side, and lowered his voice to a whisper. "Of course it matters! What have we been talking about all last week? Remember how you agreed, over a pan of my triple-chocolate brownies which I only make for very special occasions and are therefore considered _sacred_, I might add, that finding the real you is important?"

"I agreed that it's important, I said nothing about letting it replace the mission." Without looking, he knew that Duo's face had fallen a bit, so he half-turned back to him with a bit of a softer expression. "But you're right. I agreed."

"Well, good," Duo said with a smirk. "I'd hate to think your memory was going, at your age." With the chair in front of the desk now vacant, Duo swung a leg over it from behind and squatted down, studying the photo a bit more. "Seriously, it never once occurred to you that you might not be exactly what you thought you were? Didn't you ever meet another Japanese person and think to yourself, 'Something's not right here?'"

Heero continued to wander around the room, subconsciously avoiding the material on the desk. "No, I didn't. There were only the Geisha girls at the Exhibition, and they were a little too heavily made-up to tell anything from."

"But even when you were a kid, Jeffrhyss must have found someone that spoke your language, or they never would've gotten through to you. Didn't you look like them?"

"I never saw the faces of any of my instructors. It was forbidden. Anyway, how do you know you're really an American? What do Americans look like?"

Duo flipped up his eyebrows and nodded to himself. "Point taken." He thought for a bit, then got up and walked over to where Heero was standing, staring at the walls. "You could always go there and find out, couldn't you? You've got your parents' names, assuming they're not fake...you know where they might be, and you've probably got enough money to get there."

It was a thought. Once a few minor loose ends like Treize and Cinq had been tied up, Heero would be truly free to do what he wanted for the first time, ever. While he thought about being free occasionally, it was the idea of not knowing what to do with himself that made him the most apprehensive about it. "Maybe, someday. I've got too much to do right now...but when the time comes, I could sure use a travelling companion." He gave Duo another one of his secret smiles, though he kept both hands safely in his pockets. "Long voyages can get lonely, or so I hear."

"It's a date," Duo said, smiling and inching closer. "Until then, I'll just have to meet the real you two minutes at a time."

Heero blinked. "What do you mean?"

Duo shot another protective glance at the door, but there was no sound beyond it, and therefore little danger of being discovered. He scooted even closer and let a hand crawl lightly up the buttons of Heero's waistcoat. "I know the real you is in there somewhere," he whispered. "I know because I get to see it two minutes a day. First thing when you wake up, you're all groggy and it takes about that long for you to remember that it's not your job to be happy. I don't wake up early just to make breakfast...I wake up early for that two minutes, when you roll over, and make that relaxed little humming noise, and squish your pillow in half, and do that cute thing with your hair..."

Picking up easily on Duo's change in mood, Heero leaned in closer as well, enough that their bangs got into a small tangle in mid-air between them. "It must be pretty valuable to you, if you're willing to give up sleep for it."

"Two minutes," Duo said through a smile, leaning closer and sliding the hand flat against Heero's chest. "Most days, that's all I get."

A deliciously tense silence pervaded, until Heero slipped one hand out of his pocket and reached behind Duo's back and under his coat, searching for the end of his braid. "We can work on that," he purred, and without thinking, they inched dangerously close to one another, consumed by a pleasantly numbing fog.

The door flew open and crashed against the wall with a thunderous bang, causing the boys to jump about six inches and dash frantically away from each other. Wickstrand had returned. "Dreadfully sorry! Not only was I late for another appointment, my secretary kindly reminded me of three others that I'd forgotten about altogether. I'm afraid we'll have to dispense with the ethnic investigation for now, but if you'd care to drop in some other time--" 

Heero quickly gathered up everything that was his off the surface of the scrapbook and walked swiftly towards the man. "We don't pass by this way very often. There's still some things we wanted to--"

"No, no, no, I haven't the time for that now," Wickstrand insisted with one hand flapping in the breeze.

"Well, what about this thing?" Duo asked, flipping through the scrapbook. It wasn't just photographs; there were pages and pages of field notes that could have yielded a hundred thousand clues, if only they had the time to examine them. "Couldn't we borrow this for awhile?"

The Professor was mortified. His face grew impossibly longer, stretching out his sideburns like giant caterpillars. "My...my notes? Leave this office? But..."

"You can trust us!" Duo crowed, and he smiled his widest smile as he walked up and clamped an overly-friendly hand on Wickstrand's lofty shoulder. "After all, we're close personal friends of a buddy of yours."

"Who?" Wickstrand hooted, paralysed from the jaw down.

"Professor Giorgenson. He spoke really highly of you, you know that?"

"Really?" The Professor gazed off into the distance, out his second-floor window. "Have you...heard from him lately? He missed our annual faculty snooker tournament, and it's _highly_ unusual for him."

Duo glanced at the floor, removed himself from Wickstrand's person, and took a step back, suddenly depressed. He fought for hope that Jeffrhyss hadn't done away with his erstwhile mentor, but it was becoming harder and harder to hold on to. "No. We were, uh...kinda hoping you might've heard from him."

Softened by the way Duo hung his head in despair, and sharing somewhat in his cloud of worry, Wickstrand walked to the desk, picked up the scrapbook, and placed it in Heero's hands. "Take it. I'm sure that wherever old Giorgi is, he'd want me to help you two out as much as I was able."

The boys thanked the strange man earnestly for the valuable loan, and promised to bring it back in an identical condition. Saying brief goodbyes, they left the campus and headed for home, taking preliminary peeks at the rest of the great book while they were on the train. It all looked so mysterious and enchanting, like a storybook from another age, and Heero could hardly wait to dissect it, looking for himself amongst the yellowing pages.

**********  
  


Hilde's relationship with Wufei was less than ideal, by the standards of the average romantic post-Victorian girl. He didn't dote on her, didn't write her poems or bring her flowers, didn't call her loving little pet names or show her off like a trophy to every eligible male he came in contact with. He did, however, treat her with a reasonable amount of respect, so long as she didn't make unreasonable demands on him. Thus, she settled for a little less in the romance department to get more of a friend, and more of an equal.

Since she was getting a friend and confidant out of the deal, she expected a certain level of honesty that, today at least, she didn't feel was coming across. She followed Wufei up to his room at the pub that afternoon, not just for some stimulating conversation, but to crack open the shell he had placed around his thoughts. His off-hand remark earlier that morning had stuck in her mind, and it was disturbing to the point of disrupting her entire rhythm of thought; she had to know what it meant.

Wufei let Hilde into his room with the same indifference that he might have displayed towards a lost puppy, and immediately flopped on the sofa with a book, continuing on from the page where he left off. Hilde looked around the room, taking in the changes that had occurred over the weeks of Wufei's residence. The walls, previously plain, were now something of a showcase of the items he had collected during his world-wide journey, with one entire wall dedicated to swords and knives, hanging on specially-made racks. Instead of having a proper wardrobe to keep clothes in, all of his fine exotic suits from mainland China hung on the other walls, creating splashes of colour while keeping them wrinkle-free; Hilde felt a little plain standing next to them in her black and white maid's uniform, with the bottom edge of her skirt dirty and frayed from constantly dragging on the ground.

Wufei didn't seem to be concerned with advancing the conversation, so with her hands clasped casually behind her, Hilde strolled around the room, getting right to the point. "So...what did you mean earlier?" she asked, pausing near the collection of swords and gazing into one particularly shiny surface. "About Heero and...all that stuff?"

Wufei shrugged disinterestedly. "Mm...nothing, really."

"Oh, come on, I can tell when you _really_ feel like talking about something," the girl pressed sweetly, turning on her heel. "And face it, who else can you talk to if not me?"

"You don't need to know everything I think."

Hilde frowned. The sugary tone of voice wasn't working; a slight change in tactics was necessary. She slunk up behind the sofa and purred in his ear as she started on one of her deluxe shoulder massages. "I'm more worried about you venting your frustrations," she sighed, "and you have _so_ much to be frustrated about. I don't know how you handle it, day in, day out...you're just too amazing, that's all."

For all his training in the deadly arts, a little flattery and babying was usually all it took. Working right according to plan, Wufei shut his eyes, dropped the book into his lap, and let his head loll forward as Hilde kneaded the flesh on either side of his neck. "It's this whole business with Treize," he let slip after a short while. "I agreed not to deal with him in the manner I saw fit for the good of the mission, and I thought I could be satisfied with that as long as the outcome was positive for everyone."

Hilde bit her lip. "...and now you're not sure?"

"Now I want what's mine," the boy growled, raising his head just high enough to glare wickedly at a random spot across the room. "Vengeance. Justifiable retribution. I owe it to Meiran's memory to ruin Treize in every way possible, and whether it fits with Heero's plans or not, that's exactly what I intend to do."

"Yeah, but...the group asked you to set aside your grudge because we're all focused on the big picture, not because Treize doesn't deserve a smack in the head and then some. It's not about giving up something you want, it's choosing something better."

"You mean choosing what _Heero_ thinks is better!" Wufei shoved himself off the sofa, out of Hilde's grasp, and stalked over to the wall of swords, suddenly fuming. "He and his little cabal will make sure Treize doesn't make it as far as the Cinq Association, and then the Count is mine!" Wufei plucked a fine steel blade engraved with dragons off its rack and ran a finger lightly along the edge, one eyebrow twitching under the force of a grand and glorious fantasy. "I'm going to drag him someplace where he'll never be found...and pay him back double for every ounce of pain he's caused me. I can't move on in life until this is done, and I can't let anyone stop me from doing it."

The more Hilde watched him fawning over the sword, the more agitated the butterflies in her stomach became. She knew Wufei had a tendency to exaggerate when he got riled, but somehow this didn't seem like an ordinary flight of fancy. _Heero should know about this,_ she thought, mangling her fingernails nervously, _but if I squeal about this, Wufei will never trust me with another secret as long as I live, and I don't want that. I like him...I don't want him to hate me back. Actually, it might not conflict with the mission at all if..._ She swallowed, not liking where her thoughts were taking her. "I think I'll...go grab myself a drink," she blurted, tiptoeing to the door. Wufei was still gazing at his reflection in the sword when she left, unnoticed.

**********  
  


The second Heero set foot back in the manor, he took his new treasure into the library and sealed himself off from the world. Only Duo was allowed through the gates of doom, but truthfully, nobody else even tried. To disturb him in the middle of his critical research could have meant instant death.

Like just about everything Heero did, Duo thought it was adorable, and happily brought him tea, then dinner, then a light snack in the library. Every time he appeared with a new tray, he would receive a new anecdote from the annals of Wickstrand's Odyssey about Ainu culture. On his last trip to collect empty dishes around ten o'clock, Heero reached out and grabbed him by the sleeve without taking his eyes off the paper. "Did you see this?"

"When?" Duo laughed sarcastically. "You've been monopolizing it all night."

As Duo reached for the tray and stacked the dishes one on top of the other, Heero paraphrased. "They believe that when a person dies, their soul goes underground to a world that's the complete reverse of this one, where left is right and up is down, and they continue floating back and forth between the two worlds until they displease their ancestors."

Duo smirked. "No comment." He started towards the door, and somehow expected Heero to follow, as it was getting fairly late. "You're coming up eventually, aren't you?"

"In a little while..." Heero flipped a page and was on to the next tale almost immediately.

_That's okay...it's nice to see you enjoying a little light reading. Well...non-explicit light reading, that is._ Duo eased his way out of the library, balancing the tray on one arm, and left his friend alone for a little while longer. Sometime around eleven, he checked on him again, just peeking in the door far enough to see that he was still reading. He went away, played with Shadow for awhile, but when it got to be past midnight, he started to wonder, and headed back to the library yet again. Being quiet as a mouse, a task he was better at than anyone, he nudged open the door and peered inside.

The lantern Heero had been reading with was burning down to its last few drops of oil, and its flame was dim orange like some of the potted flowers in the conservatory. The scrapbook was open to a page somewhere in the middle, and Heero was splayed out on top of it, fast asleep. Duo crept up next to him, making an adoring face at the cuteness of it all. _Oh, wow...I could look at that forever._ The way his hair fell onto the book and feathered out was simply too sweet, but Duo knew he couldn't leave him like that all night. "Hey...wakey wakey....." He reluctantly gave him a little shake and couldn't help pressing their cheeks together for just a moment. Heero stirred with a tiny groan, and was groggily unaware that he was being pulled to his feet.

With one of Heero's arms slung over the back of his neck, Duo carefully walked him out of the library, after turning out the dying lantern. After the first few steps, Heero began rubbing at his eyes and mumbling in Japanese, and Duo did his best to reply with the same, until they made it to their room, and he was able to lower his load onto the bed. He slipped off Heero's shoes, loosened as many buttons as he dared, covered him up, and went to lock the door. Having somehow achieved horizontality, Heero's subconscious sent him swiftly back to sleep, and he was gone before Duo slipped into bed beside him. Taking one moment more to drool over how innocent Heero looked when he was resting, Duo snuggled up behind him and draped an arm around his waist, sighing and smiling into his pillow. _I got four minutes today. Bonus._

And even in sleep, Heero's hand curled around Duo's and gave it a little squeeze.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Seventy-Three: Something strange is in the air on Valentine's Day as the whole world seems to be pairing off like animals trailing into the Ark. In the midst of torrential troubles, one couple will change their relationship forever, but who will it be?_

*kicks the Net in general* So sorry about the delay...I seem to be having a lot of them lately. *blushie* Well, if that's the last Internet worm we see for awhile, it'll be a good thing. Now then! From reading the preview, you've already guessed that the next episode won't be until Valentine's Day! This is for many good reasons, all of which you'll appreciate in the fullness of time. =^_~= While we wait to see who gets what (and who gets who!) for Valentine's, there will be some major modifications to the Gallery, especially stuff that I've been meaning to add for the last _month_. *blushie again* We've got fanart, we've got regular art, we've got a fic translated into Italian (=O_O=!!) and we've got more recipes on the way! And...Rachel and I are looking into the possibility of moving the site to new digs where we'll have more flexibility with CGI and whatnot. But that's only a theory. =^_~= Thanks for your supportive emails during our trials with non-working webness, and we'll talk to you in a day or so!


	73. Shiver

  
  


**Warning:**...the thing about the Victorians/Edwardians is that most people thing they were all sexually repressed. A handful of them were not. A pretty large handful, really. Some of them are in this episode. And there's other things I could warn you about. Warny-warny. There. =P Three couples are going into this story, but only one will come out significantly different. *bwa ha ha...*

**Disclaimer:** I know, from traipsing through every store, mall, and boutique in the Greater Toronto Area, that nobody has Gundam pilots for sale. I even offered to pay retail instead of the supposed sale price, but they still said no. Therefore, I cannot possibly own these magnificent examples of manhood, or the chicks they hang out with. Do not sue me. I have no money except that miniscule amount reserved for presents.

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Seventy-Three: Shiver

_"It's no secret that a conscience can sometimes be a pest;  
It's no secret that ambition bites the nails of success." ~U2, "The Fly" _

February 14th, 1903

          Early in the morning, while most of the male population were scrambling to find the perfect pink and cream Valentine's postcards laced with flowers and cherubs and doves to give to their sweethearts, Duo and Heero were having a quite normal sparring practice in the pub basement, oblivious to the date. Since Duo was learning karate at such an amazing speed, Heero was rapidly running out of things to teach him, and could best his student with less ease at each succeeding battle. By nine o'clock, they had already had a decent workout, and wound up sitting on the mats, wondering how they could advance their studies without official tutelage.

          "I don't suppose Jeffrhyss would give a few weeks off to the guy who taught you to come and teach me, would he?" Duo quipped as they slumped facing each other, cross-legged and each propping up his chin on one elbow.

          "Not likely," Heero replied dully. "He wouldn't want to be exposed to the public eye anyway. Shotokan isn't being taught _anywhere_, and now that I've seen my own training in a more sobering light, it's entirely possible that my instructor essentially stole the method and brought it to Europe in secret. I don't imagine Master Funakoshi would be pleased if he found out."

          Duo made a face. "Well, if it's theft, aren't you perpetuating it by teaching it to me?"

          Heero blinked in surprise, then abashment at being caught in a technicality. He leaned back, stretched out, closed his eyes, and put his hands behind his head, making a great play of taking an escapist nap. "No talking in class."

          Laughing, Duo rocked back and forth, clutching his knees to his chest playfully. Then he got up and walked in a broad circle around the makeshift gymnasium, swinging his arms and stretching in different directions. Tossing calculating and heavy-lidded glances at Heero as he strolled, he licked his lips and put forth a suggestion, a lead-in for a familiar attempt at persuasion. "You know...we've probably got the flawed method, if the Master is still working on it back home...I'll bet you're good enough that you could be taken on as his student, and then you'd get all the newest moves as they were being written into the books, right? ...and maybe, while you were there, if you had time--"

          "If I had time, I could travel to Hokkaido and find my mother and father," Heero finished mechanically in a bit of a sing-song voice. Going to Japan had been just about all Duo could talk about for the last two weeks, but then, Heero had hardly talked about anything but the Ainu in the same space of time, so he was just as guilty of raising false hopes. "We don't have time for that right now."

          "But we'll go there _someday_, won't we?"

          "If I'm not that concerned about seeing my supposed homeland, I don't see why you should worry yourself about it," Heero sighed. "Granted, it's interesting, but it's not something I desperately need."

          "Maybe you don't _need_ it," Duo countered, "but it'd be nice to see you _want_ it, even just a little bit. I've met a lot of orphans in my time, and no matter how tough they were on the outside, they all wanted a mother..."

          Not seeing much point to the conversation, Heero wrangled himself up off the floor, checked the clock on the wall, and made for the door. "We might as well go home if we're not going to accomplish anything else." As he reached the doorway, he looked back over his shoulder to see if Duo was following; he wasn't. The chef looked downcast, his happy spirit trodden upon, and a wave of guilt made Heero take a few steps back and reach out to touch his arm. "There's nothing wrong with what you're saying, it's just...it's not a high priority for me right now. I found out the basics of what I needed to know about myself, and now I can let it rest for awhile and focus on the mission. Besides...having a mother might be overrated anyway. I seem to have turned out alright without one, haven't I?"

          Eventually, Duo smiled, though on the inside, he wasn't entirely satisfied. _Make up your mind, would ya..._ "Okay, fair enough. We'll talk about it when things calm down."

          Heero nodded. "Wise choice." He turned back around, and the pair of them headed up the stairs to the main pub area, where Catherine was just dragging herself downstairs to start tidying the place up, though opening time was a long way off. Since both he and Wufei could impose upon her to open the back door at all kinds of ungodly hours, she had decided to save herself some sleeplessness and legwork by giving them a key apiece, so they could let themselves in and out at will. Having gotten a full night's rest she was back to her old routine quickly, and could be seen running a pushbroom across the floor when the boys emerged from the basement. They tossed each other the usual brief greetings without incident.

          As Heero was just turning the corner into the kitchen for two glasses of water as per usual, however, something caught his eye on the floor, hiding at the foot of the bar itself, shadowed by one of the barstools. He paused long enough to stoop down and pick it up, with Duo watching interestedly from a nearby chair. It was a gentleman's pocketbook presumably lost the night before. It was quite thick, possibly with money, and a great deal of it. Catherine must have missed it during her closing time cleanup, and the owner would surely have been missing it by then. Heero turned it over once or twice, then looked around the room to find the landlady, whose back was turned as she dusted the light fixtures. "Cathy!" he called out.

          Catherine responded quickly, twisting around to see who was calling her. "What's up?"

          Once he had her full attention, Heero tossed the wallet clear across the bar with perfect aim, so the sleepy barmaid could make a perfect catch, if a startled one. "Someone dropped that over here," the boy explained simply.

          "Oh!" Catherine reacted with normal surprise and worry over a lost item of such value. "Thanks! I'll put it in the lost and found," she said, and with that, she put down her duster and went to a locked box behind the bar, to secure the pocketbook inside. Heero went on to the kitchen in search of water without missing a beat.

          A seemingly benign event such as this held a much deeper meaning for Duo, who watched carefully the entire time, thinking. Something about what just occurred was delightfully strange, and in his own mind, at least, it didn't mesh with what Heero had been telling him only moments before. Duo didn't quite know what it was about finding the lost wallet that was triggering such thoughts, but he expected to understand sooner or later, and until then, it was business as usual.

**********  
  


          A relief to all, Trowa and Quatre were fully on speaking terms again, and so they had also gone back to eating together, chatting about any subject that happened across the table, and aside from slight residual anxiety about what one expected of the other and vice versa, everything was back to way it was before their relationship went haywire. They were also made happy, if somewhat oppressed, by Relena's order that the house be kept up to its usual shining standard, which gave them stables to tend and a conservatory to prune bits off of, in general. That morning, however, it was time for a tea break, and they were the only occupants of the kitchen table sipping cups of steaming brew, while the maids were busy elsewhere.

          They sat on either side of the table, and Trowa was thumbing casually through the newspaper, lying flat to his left. Quatre had his head propped up in one hand and was stirring his tea with the other, after dropping in a couple of sugar cubes to quell his sweet tooth. He gazed and gazed, and stirred and stirred, and after several minutes he developed a curious rhythm that seemed to bang itself out without any cognitive prodding.

          _*...tickety-tink, tickety-tink, tickety-tink, tickety-tink, tickety-tink, tickety-tink...*_

          After awhile, Trowa stopped reading and glared at the spoon, swirling around Quatre's teacup and persistently banging into the porcelain embankments. It was hypnotic, yet annoying.

          _*...tickety-tink, tickety-tink, tickety-tink, tickety-tink, tickety-tink, tickety-tink...*_

          Trowa cleared his throat gently. The spoon continued on in its stirring motion. "Quat..."

          "Hm?"

          "If you wanted iced tea to begin with, you didn't have to sprain your wrist trying to cool _that_ down."

          All at once, Quatre realised what he was doing, and stopped with a blush. "...oh! Sorry. I was...lost in thought."

          "I _did_ notice..." Trowa took a sip of his own tea, substantially warmer than Quatre's, and set it down gently, looking down at it. "What were you thinking about?"

          Quatre sighed and set the spoon right down on the table, paying no mind to the drops of sugary tea spreading out on the semi-glossed wood. "I haven't accomplished very much for the mission, or my family, have I?" he began in a self-recriminating tone. "Dorothy won't return my calls, I can't fight as well as the rest of you, except with a sword, and they're a bit difficult to hide in your back pocket..."

          "What are you getting at?" Trowa asked, squinting.

          "If I was _really_ making an effort, I could be finding out all sorts of valuable things, especially since I can tell when people are lying to me. I was thinking, why can't I start putting it to good use by bringing back crucial information?"

          "Like what?"

          Creeping up on the subject slowly, as if frightened of the response, Quatre folded his arms on top of the table and leaned over them slightly. "Like the location of Cinq's annual meeting. We only know the general area, and that won't help much with the date speeding towards us. We need an _exact_ compass bearing to set us on the right path, and I've been trying to think of a way to get it." He paused and appeared to be studying a spot on the wall. "Byron would know, I'll bet."

          Trowa blinked in disbelief at the idea. "He wouldn't tell us, Heero said so," he stated firmly, "and if he thought otherwise, he would have been the first to suggest confronting him."

          "He doesn't expect Byron to tell _him_," Quatre added with a sly glint in both eyes. "Mister Schaefer hasn't met _me_ yet."

          "Well, he _has_ met me, and he's not the sort of person you want mad at you."

          "I want to be _something_ to this group, other than 'just the treasurer'," Quatre said pointedly, gesturing forcefully with one hand. "I want to be the chief negotiator, and the quickest way to prove myself to Heero would be to weasel the meeting location out of Byron." Right away, he pointed at Trowa. "And don't you say one word about how I've failed with Dorothy, I'm still working on her."

          Trowa whimpered melodramatically at the accusation.

          "Look...I wouldn't even suggest it if I didn't think I could do it, and if we stick to heavily populated areas, Byron would have no opportunity to aim a gun at us, because he'd be revealing his location to the authorities. You know it makes sense. We could nip up to Eton, have a nice, calm conversation, trade a few insults, get what we need, and be back before dinner." At the end of his speech, Quatre leaned back, twiddled his thumbs, and looked worriedly at his only supporter. "What do you say?"

          It was an absolutely ludicrous plan, one that any sane member of the cabal would have refused. Trowa, however, was once again defenceless against the aquamarine eyes blinking sadly at him from across the table. Perhaps it wouldn't be so dangerous if he went along to guard him. At least the gardener was willing to try, which was more than most folks around the house were up to lately. "...........well, maybe."

          Quatre sat back and grinned, pleased to be getting his way, but just thrilled at the vote of confidence Trowa's acceptance represented. Even if, on the off-chance, they didn't get what they were after, knowing that his friend believed in him again made the risk every bit worthwhile.

**********  
  


          Marcus waited in the hotel restaurant for a long time. Terrified of being late, he was there before the doors even opened, and frittered away the morning on endless cups of coffee while waiting for his luncheon date to arrive. He and Relena had finally hammered out an agreement to meet for a meal in Southampton, so she wouldn't have to venture too far away from her safe little burrow. As the chosen hour grew steadily nearer, Marcus became tense and anxious, fiddling nervously with everything on the table as the caffeine saturation in his blood reached its peak.

          Sweet relief finally came when a golden-haired angel floated in, guided through the stained glass doors by the maître D'. Marcus exhaled audibly and rose to greet her, but instead of extending a cordial hand, he plunged them quickly into his pockets for the umpteenth time, to make sure the treasures he carried were still with him. He had a present for Relena, or more specifically, two possible presents. In one pocket was a long tortoiseshell box with a precious but friendly trinket inside. In the other pocket was a squarish velvet box containing a ring; it was a lovelier and much more special ring than the one he picked out for her last Christmas. Lately, he had become terrified of losing her, and what was said at the luncheon had the ability to determine which present she received.

          "Lena," the boy gasped. "How are you?"

          "Reasonably well," Relena said, a little bit tiredly. A gracious hotel employee pulled out her chair for her, and both youngsters sat down to freshly-presented menus. Then they were left alone. "I mustn't stay very long," the girl continued in a voice that begged not to cause offence. "I'm needed very badly at home."

          Marcus frowned at the menu sadly, uncheered by the offerings of poached salmon and tiramisu. She had hardly sat down, and already she was talking about rushing back to Sutherby House. "I thought your home was meant to be in London."

          "Marcus, _please_, I want to have a nice lunch without any arguments abou--"

          "I know, I'm sorry," he amended quickly. "Um...so.....you've obviously been keeping busy, I suppose that's a good thing..."

          Relena stared drably at the menu equally unenticed by the hotel's delicacies. "I want it to be a good thing," she said softly, eyes downcast.

          There was a long chasm of near-total silence, during which they exchanged not a word, and spoke only sparingly to the waiter who came to take their order. An eternity seemed to follow, and the thoughts Marcus was trying to keep off the table were beating furiously on the front door of his brain, trying to get out. Eventually, the door was nudged open a crack, and one of the thoughts slipped out. "About this money business. I know how adverse you are to taking money from a friend, but--"

          "No, Marcus, please don't. It's not as bad as--"

          "Hear me out," the boy insisted. "_If_...and I'm not saying you do, but..._if_ you needed a loan, I would be more than satisfied to put something in writing and see you properly through your current crisis. It simply wouldn't do for me to...for me to stand idly by and watch you sink into bankruptcy. I won't have it." And if she wouldn't have a loan, there was always his backup plan--asking her to marry him. Marrying for money was superbly suitable in their circles, and if they just happened to be fond of each other to begin with, so much the better.

          Relena blushed and coyly smiled, and thought once more about how often she was amazed by young Marcus. He was so very different from Heero; he would give and give and give until there was nothing of him left, solely for her happiness. "I'm truly grateful to have a friend like you," she cooed, "but as kind as your offer is, I'm afraid you're a bit late."

          For one horrifying moment, Marcus saw her hand move and thought she was about to display some other man's ring already embracing her finger, even though he hadn't breathed the word 'marriage' even once. Thankfully, it was a false alarm. Relena reached into a little cream-coloured beaded purse, an exact match to the simple yet elegant cream-coloured lace dress she wore, and took out a piece of paper, folded in half and half again. She placed it before him. "Have a look at that," she said with a proud smile.

          With a blend of curiosity and apprehension, Marcus slowly picked up the paper, unfolded it, turned it right-side-up, and read it thoroughly from top to bottom.

**********  
  


          In a remarkably short length of time, Quatre and his tailoring skills managed to whip up a second long-tailed suit and white bow tie, so that both he and Trowa could dress up to look reasonably similar to the students of Eton College. Another remarkably short time after that, they were on a train travelling a small distance west, and were back on the familiar campus right about lunchtime. They easily located Byron's boarding house again, and hung around outside the front doors, waiting for him to emerge. Trowa asked himself several times what they were doing there, chasing the boy who nearly put a bullet through his chest, but when the answer came that Quatre wanted to be a great negotiator, and then the thought that he had negotiated Trowa right into doing what he wanted him to do, all he could do was stick his hands in his pockets and pout.

          Then, as if generated by a slow-moving miracle, Byron appeared out of the boarding house doors, surrounded once again by his posse of young admirers. He didn't notice the two outsiders skulking around as he and the mob sort of lolled amoeba-like across the grounds toward the main buildings. At one point, Byron seemed to grow tired of their presence, and he ordered them away. They obeyed with unnatural reverence and awe, as if receiving instructions from a burning bush. Trowa and Quatre then watched the blond boy carefully, expecting him to veer off the campus towards town, as Heero said he so often did. Instead, Byron went straight on into the thick of the older buildings and, following a winding path through doors and stairwells, ended up in a communal cafeteria.

          A steady stream of young boys lined up with trays and filled them up with wholesome, socially-acceptable lunches, then took various places at long, wooden tables with backless benches on either side. Following suit, Trowa and Quatre each grabbed a tray and squished into the line, about ten students back from Byron. They drew a few curious stares from the real students who obviously didn't recognize them, and elicited curt protests as they gradually cut in front of one boy after another, trying to get closer to Byron as they hurriedly tossed miscellaneous food items onto their plates. At last, Byron turned away from the line and took a seat well away from anyone else, and Quatre quickly followed. Trowa was getting his first butterflies of the afternoon, but it was too late to stop what was taking place. The two of them injected themselves into Byron's space, sitting down exactly opposite him, and Quatre immediately took charge of the impending conversation with an imposing and confident glare. "Hello."

          Byron sneered a bit at the intruders, thinking they were just more of those pesky admirers, but he soon recognized the cinnamon-haired boy, and figured that they were both pawns of the same Heero-driven outfit. He sat back and smirked. "I knew this was going to happen, I really did. This morning, my horoscope said, 'You will be accosted by well-dressed morons wielding Eccles cakes and butter knives.' The planets have spoken."

          "There's no need to be rude," Quatre said calmly, "we're just here for a friendly chat."

          Byron folded his arms and glared back. "Hmm. Pity there's so many witnesses, or I could shorten it to my liking."

          This time, Trowa leaned forward, somewhat threateningly, a direct counteraction against Byron's thinly-veiled warning. "Did the police ever find out who fired a shot across the campus where the sons of the aristocracy live and work?"

          "Don't look at me, I'm completely innocent!" Byron said, placing both hands upon his coat lapels as if supremely shocked at the mere suggestion of wrongdoing on his part. "If I recall correctly, some _other_ menace to the public peace beat me to that honour. Apart from that little incident, I've been a veritable angel."

          "Oh, of course," Quatre sniffed. "Now, if we could get to the point, we've come here for some information."

          Byron jerked a thumb over his shoulder and started eating. "Library's that way."

          "Actually..." Quatre made a daring move by reaching out a hand and actually pulling Byron's lunch tray away, to the center of the bench, right between mouthfuls. "We were more interested in the name of a place...and I think it's a place you know something about that the libraries don't."

          "We'd like to know where the Cinq Association is having their annual fiscal meeting," Trowa finished for him.

          Byron glared at them with a twisted smile, transfixing Quatre especially as he very calmly reached out and slid his tray back to it's starting position. "That's the funniest thing I've heard all week."

          "Why don't we dispense with the sarcasm?" Quatre bantered.

          Byron's smile disappeared. "Why don't we go down to the docks and see if morons can float?"

          The threat actually rattled Quatre, but not in a way that anyone could see...except Trowa, who was finely tuned to his friend's emotions. He looked hastily to either side just in case someone had been close enough to hear, someone they could march in front of a judge, but there was no one close by. Then, he ran a hand through his cinnamon bangs and leaned forward, needlessly lowering his voice. "Exactly how much is it going to take to get what we want?"

          "Whatever it is, you couldn't afford it," Byron snapped. "Now, if you don't mind, I have music class in a short while, and the clarinet section would be lost without me. Ta-ta..." With that, he scooped up all the food items he could easily carry, including his sandwich, his soup, and his bread-and-butter pudding, stacked them on top of his books, gathered up his books with exceptional balance in one hand, grabbed his juice with the other, and walked briskly out of the cafeteria without even the tiniest look back.

          Quatre slouched with a huff and folded his arms gruffly. "_Clarinet_," he spat with venom. "I'll bet he honks like a goose."

          Trowa sighed. "So what do we do now, Mr. Chief Negotiator?"

          "We stick to him like glue," the gardener declared with determination. "I'm not finished with him yet."

**********  
  


          ".....a hotel??"

          The detached, hoot-like question came from Marcus, who had finished reading the letter Relena gave him and still was unable to believe it. The letter was a revised plea for funding from acquaintances of the Peacecraft family, written after the first campaign had fizzled. It was a business plan instead of an ungarnished beg, but while the format had improved, the subject matter was ludicrous. Marcus blinked and shrugged and sputtered, parts of him moving together like a one-man band without any instruments. "I mean...a _hotel_?"

          Relena pouted. "What's wrong with a hotel?"

          "You dunno nuthin' about runnin' an 'otel," Marcus blathered, unconsciously lapsing into his natural Liverpool lilt from the stress of the situation.

          "How do you know I don't?" the girl protested.

          With some effort, Marcus composed himself and challenged her with his eyes. "Alright, how much _do_ you know?"

          This time, Relena's lips flapped open and shut with no sound coming out. "Well...it's...it's simple, really...one has _guests_, of course, and...one has to...look after them..."

          "Your prowess astounds me," Marcus deadpanned.

          "Don't make fun just because I don't have the right words for it! Running a hotel is just like having dinner guests over, except they spend the night! If you insist on knowing, I think I'm perfectly suited to it."

          Unconvinced that what he was reading was real, Marcus leaned back and examined the letter out loud. "So...you've humbly suggested to all the friends of your family to..."

          "...contribute to the conversion and renovation fund," the girl supplied cheerily.

          "...write you a big, fat cheque," Marcus paraphrased, "and in return, they will each be receiving..."

          "...premium privileges for use of the facility at a discounted rate," she added in a duller tone.

          "...fictional shareholding which they either will never use or will abuse to the point of running you out of business," he paraphrased again, dropping the letter and watching it flit down to the table while hanging an arm uncouthly off the back of his chair. "If only flying machines were so well thought out."

          "I see," Relena said icily, and she actually began to stand up. "Perhaps I was wasting my time coming here."

          "Oh, no, _no_, sit back down!" Marcus begged her, reaching out frantically with both arms. He was saved at that moment by the arrival of their food, which she couldn't reasonably turn down, since Marcus was buying. She sat back down and attended to her napkin, avoiding his eyes while a second waiter filled each of their glasses with a dry red wine. Marcus sighed on the inside and called himself ten kinds of idiot. "I'm sorry, alright? I don't know why these daft things just pop out of my mouth, but if they have any reason at all, it's because I worry about you. I don't want to see you make a dreadful mistake."

          "I don't _feel_ like I'm making a mistake!" she declared defensively. "Suppose you loaned me some money. What then? I'd still have no way of paying you back, and I can't keep borrowing and borrowing until nobody wants to see my face anymore. With the hotel conversion, I'd have a steady source of income, and I wouldn't have to go very far into debt for very long. Between the banks and our friends, we can do it."

          At that moment, she seemed so confident, so hopeful, that even if the whole thing turned out to be a horrendous mess, Marcus didn't have the heart to tell her so anymore. He toyed lightly with his crab bordelaise, smiling humbly. "If you really think so...then I'm there for you. Take no notice of me when I'm acting stupid...I really am pleased for you."

          Relena favoured him with a forgiving glance and tried out her garden salad in a more relaxed mood. Once the first bite was down, she eyed Marcus in a slightly predatory way, and spoke to him in deliberately conniving tones. "You know...once we get off the ground, we're going to need some extra staff...like, perhaps...a _manager_...someone with class, and style, and good manners..."

          "Oh, dunno 'ow good my manners are," Marcus joked, and he tore a piece off his bread roll, dipped it in the wine, and ate it, making a funny face the entire time. Relena nearly went apoplectic with shocked laughter as she slapped a hand over her mouth and kicked him lightly under the table. That was the most wonderful thing about Marcus, she thought to herself, that he always knew how to make her laugh, which was why it felt so good to be around him. As she calmed down and got on with her own meal, blushing and giggling at the stares they had drawn from around the restaurant, Marcus remembered something else that would make her smile, and put his fork down with a thoughtful hum. "Before I forget, I've got something for you."

          Again, the girl's eyes lit up in anticipation of a sudden surprise. Marcus hid both hands in his coat pockets, seemed to think for a moment, then produced a long tortoiseshell jewellery box and set it down next to her wineglass with a shy smile. Relena greatly missed getting presents, and eagerly pried the box open, gasping at what lay inside--a string of shining white pearls. "Oh! ...oh, it's _lovely_!"

          Marcus stood, walked around behind her chair, and delicately picked up the necklace while the speechless girl swept her hair off to one side, keeping a hand on her chest to prevent her heart from beating straight through it. Yes, Marcus had chickened out to an extent, but something told him that the ring would have been too much just then, that she didn't need the pressure of a surprise proposal on top of her other issues. He undid the clasp, snaked the pearls around her neck, and fastened the string back up again, admiring the whole picture breathlessly. "_You're_ lovely," he concluded.

          Positively glowing, Relena took hold of his arm, tugged him down a bit and gave him a kiss on the cheek, and he went back to his seat floating on a happy little cloud. Despite a briefly rocky period, it was turning out to be a splendid lunch, and at the very least, Relena knew there was one person outside her family that she could count on. Whether or not she could ever tell that person why she _really_ needed the money, and what she _really_ intended to do with it, that was another matter entirely.

**********  
  


          In Bridlewood's general vicinity, there was Regents Park, the named neighbourhood in which sat other homes of distinction, and there was Regents Park, the actual parkland situated on the old plains of John Nash, architect to the Crown nearly a hundred years previous. It was more than mere grass and trees, acting as home to rose gardens, sporting fields, a small lake, the Zoological Society, and spots set aside for open-air theatre in the summer. There was also a steep slope called Primrose Hill, from which one could see as far as Westminster, on those days that the park was open to the public. For some reason, Duo wanted to go walking in the park despite bitter cold and a light drizzle, but he easily convinced Heero to go with him. On one hand, Duo wanted to get away from the constant presence of the housemaids, and on the other hand, he wanted to see this rich landscape that he never would have had a hope of experiencing before, and as they walked, he made a verbal list of all the things he wanted the two of them to see and do once summer came. After a time, they scaled Primrose Hill, keeping carefully out of the way of the private residences nestled within the parklands, and stood at the top, looking out over the city in wonder.

          "Kinda like the view from Tower Bridge, only safer," Duo remarked with a grin.

          "I'm glad you've given up your old daredevil habits," said Heero.

          "Yeah, so'm I." They both had their hands firmly tucked into their overcoat pockets, and braved a chilly wind that seemed amplified at the higher elevation for several minutes, just taking in the sight of a mist-covered metropolis, with so many treats they had yet to experience. "When you think about it, there's plenty of neat stuff to keep us busy here, without spending our--_your_ life savings to go to Japan."

          Heero rolled his eyes slightly. _I knew you weren't going to stay off the subject for very long._ "If you're fishing for an overseas holiday, the answer is no."

          "Aw, c'mon!" Duo whined cutely. "I know I said I wasn't gonna talk about it, but I just wanna know why you're not interested all of a sudden!"

          Heero tossed him a slight smirk, then set about kicking around little clumps of dirt lodged in between blades of dormant grass. "You know, before I met you, I always had my priorities straight. It was so clear, what I was supposed to be thinking about and when. I hope it's a source of personal pride for you that you've totally disrupted my thought process."

          "Aww, don't mention it," Duo said proudly.

          "What I'm saying is, I have a very long list of things to do, and they're all important, it's just that I'm used to finishing one task before going on to the next, and...I'm still figuring out how to cope with the freedom of being able to jump up and down the list at will."

          Duo nodded thoughtfully, kicking at the ground a little bit as well. It made sense, in a way. Heero didn't place a lesser importance on finding his family, he just couldn't fix a time or date to do so. It was really nothing to worry about, compared to some of the other things he had said that morning. "So...you think having a mother is overrated, huh?"

          As it dawned on Heero that he was giving the appearance of refusing the one treasure Duo would have given up half his limbs for as a child, his face went ashen and sympathetic. "I didn't mean to offend you, I--"

          "No, no, I'm not mad...you just did something today that really made me think."

          "What was that?"

          "That wallet you found in the pub today..." Duo looked back up at him with the face he usually wore while reading one of his detective stories. "Catherine didn't see it until you pointed it out, right?"

          "Right..."

          "And it had something in it, right? It was probably full of money, right?"

          "...probably..."

          The chef shrugged innocently. "Why didn't you just keep it instead of handing it in?"

          Heero squinted. That didn't sound like his little mouse at all, at least, not the person he had become in recent years. "Is that Duo-the-ex-thief talking?"

          "No, seriously! Why didn't you keep whatever was inside? We need money if we're going to go crash that fiscal meeting, wherever it is, and it's for a good cause, right? Nobody would have known about it." Duo tried hard to make it sound convincing, because he wanted to watch very, very closely how his friend reacted.

          Understandably, Heero was confused at the turn the conversation was taking, but his head seemed to clear when he reached way into the back of it and pulled out a long-standing rule of behaviour. "But _I_ would have known."

          "So what? What was stopping you from keeping the money?"

          "I...I don't know," the butler said, looking adorably helpless. "It's just wrong."

          "How do you know that?"

          ".....how does _anyone_ know that?"

          Duo smiled sweetly, victoriously, and smirked with his eyebrows. "Their mothers tell them so." He saw Heero's face slowly contort into a scowl of non-comprehension, as if the computer of his mind had blown a few gears in a very short space of time. "As soon as you gave up that wallet, I _knew_ some small part of you still remembered your mother. Jeffrhyss wouldn't have taught you that it's wrong to steal, no way...probably the opposite. 'If it isn't nailed down, take it--it might be useful to the mission'...but for a little while, you had a mom who really loved you, and she was teaching you right from wrong like any mom would. It doesn't explain why she gave you up, but it must've been tough on her. I figure, if she didn't care one way or another, she wouldn't have bothered teaching you anything. That's why it's not just important for _you_, to go back there someday...maybe she's still around, and your dad too. They might have spent all these years wondering if you grew up okay. They might even be waiting for you."

          Heero stared, but not quite blankly, as he slowly worked out Duo's line of thinking, after which he half-smirked and looked slightly away. "How'd you get so smart?"

          "Maybe I had a real mom too, for a little while," Duo guessed humbly. "And maybe, _just maybe_, I'm smart enough to trick you into buying dinner at one of those little cafés we passed on the way up here."

          "I think I'd better save you the trouble," Heero said, clearly impressed with his friend yet again. "You've done enough mental acrobatics for one day."

          Duo grinned and laughed a bit, and they picked their way carefully down the hill, on the prowl for something to eat.

**********  
  


          Trowa and Quatre tailed Byron relentlessly throughout the day, verbally assaulting him outside every classroom and even going so far as to toss pebbles at his boarding room window when he thought he was in for the night. Moments before he thought he would snap and start shooting things, the agent bolted out of the building, tore across the grounds, and was followed all the way off-campus and into town, even though the sun had set, and it was turning even colder.

          At the limit of his patience, Byron hailed a hansom cab and tried to escape on wheels. Before the vehicle could make it up to full speed however, it hit a bit of a traffic snarl with two other carriages and an empty cart bound for market the next day. The boys ran up alongside the cab, and Quatre shook an angry finger at his foe. "Don't think you can get away that easily! We're not giving up until you give us what we want!"

          "You two are _really_ starting to tick me off, you know that!?" Byron hollered over the clattering wheels.

          "It's not like we're asking for the moon! I'm sure if we looked hard enough in other places, we'd find out in plenty of time! I just thought you might want to be a _gentleman_ and save us the trouble!"

          The traffic cleared, the cab rolled forward at increasing speed, and Byron snickered to himself as he left the pests in a small cloud of dust, but when the next thing he heard was a faint voice shouting 'Follow that cab!', his spirits sank once again. Though he was blocked in by the wooden panel doors that closed over his legs, he managed to scoot to one side and twist around to see a second cab directly behind his, with the two morons inside. It seemed like they would tail him until he lost all strength, or at least they would unless he could think of a way to tire them out first.

          _Hmmm...I've got an idea all of a sudden. What their trouble is, is that they don't know how to relax and let things go...me, for instance. I could get them so mellow they'd forget all about pestering me. Might even be fun to watch, too._ "Driver!" he shouted, banging on the roof and leaning his head out to the left. "Take the next left!" 

          Byron's cab veered down this street and that, and Trowa kept barking out instructions to follow at any speed necessary. The vehicles twisted and turned, rolling speedily out of the classier neighbourhoods and into the seedy boroughs of dockland. As Quatre gazed out the window, holding tightly onto whatever he could inside the tight compartment, he began to worry. The vibes he was getting from the whole area were not good. There wasn't much time to debate the soundness of their pursuit, however, as the lead cab stopped, and Byron sprang out, jogging deeper into the urban jungle. Trowa hastily paid off their own driver, and led a doubtful Quatre on what would be the last leg of the chase.

          The trio ran down alleys and back passages, father and farther away from what they called civilization, until Byron suddenly ducked into a stairwell leading down. It was an ordinary-looking inlet, with a rusty railing that simply led from a spot on the sidewalk straight down, into the basement of what looked like an abandoned factory. Quatre and Trowa bravely followed Byron inside, but they didn't see him suddenly hold a handkerchief over his nose and mouth as he burst through the underground door.

          Quatre's vibes were getting much worse, but he didn't want to say anything that would worry Trowa; after all, it was only a vaguely uncomfortable feeling, and he had made such a production out of extracting information from Byron earlier that it wouldn't be fitting to give up now, when they seemed so close. The boys jogged down the stairs, pushed through the unlocked door, and found themselves in very dim light, making it difficult to discern what was in the room. A yellowish glow up ahead indicated an open doorway, and they hurried through without much thought to their safety. There was another bare room past the doorway, but it was already much warmer, unnaturally warm, in fact. Still in their long-tailed Eton coats, they found themselves undoing a few buttons as they stumbled around looking for Byron. The whole place gave the impression of a disused warehouse, but why such a thing would be located underground, they couldn't fathom. A second open doorway around a sharp corner drew their attention away, and it was the last time they had an opportunity to wonder about it. In fact, all their higher brain functions were about to be suspended.

          Coming from the second doorway, which, upon closer inspection, had actually been plastered into a decorative arch with shining wood trim, was a mixture of deep red light and thin white vapour. It led through a short hallway, which the boys traversed slowly, and with growing unease. Then there was another short set of steps leading down, and an identical decorative archway, from which hung dozens of strands of glass beads, all the colours of the rainbow. They obscured the view, but let out some of the light from within, light coming from many gas lamps, all somehow coloured red. As they pushed through the curtain of beads into the circular room, they found that the entire inner chamber was bathed in red light and a strange kind of smoke, with oriental rugs draped from the walls, red and purple curtains hanging in all sorts of odd places, and a recurring theme of erotic sculpture from other countries. Directly opposite the spot where they stood was a raised landing, where a trio of musicians played a harp, a soft-toned drum, and little golden chimes while sitting on a pile of velvet cushions. The intoxicating sound they produced blended into another sound, one coming from the centre of the room--a chorus of human voices, moaning sweetly, and producing the occasional giggle.

          Before the boys could squint through the red light and determine the source of the voices, a very sharp and familiar voice called out from up ahead. "What-ho, weary travellers!"

          Trowa and Quatre looked up at the sound and saw Byron, smiling and lounging on another pile of cushions next to the musicians. Behind him was another doorway, presumably leading to another strange chamber, and out of it soon pranced a maturely beautiful woman with flowing dark hair, olive skin, and a black gown made of partially-transparent chiffon. She crouched next to Byron and spoke in low tones to him. "I didn't know you were coming tonight...I could have saved someone for you."

          "No need, my pet," Byron cooed back to the proprietress in a lascivious voice. "I've brought you some new toys to play with. They should prove...entertaining." Turning his attention to the boys thirty feet away on the other side of the room, he held up a small piece of paper folded in half. "This is the information you're looking for, gentlemen. It's here for the taking. All you have to do...is come and get it."

          There was obviously a catch, but Trowa and Quatre hadn't yet seen what it was. Looking more closely around the room, however, it struck them full force in the eyeballs. The floor of the circular room was recessed about a foot into the ground, and it was lined with loose silks, and cushions, and all manner of soft things. Piled in the recessed area, to the boys' horror, was the source of the human moans and twittering giggles; there were no less than a dozen naked bodies writhing all over each other, glazed in heavily-perfumed oils and their own sweat, engaging in unspeakable acts of rampant fornication right before the boys' tender young eyes. Surrounding the mass of flesh were six trivets bolted to the raised part of the floor, with metal bowls of hot coals steaming away. A few scantily clad servants brought freshly-heated coals from open hearths on either side of the room, and sprinkled a mixture of dried leaves and crystalline powders on the hot coals at regular intervals. This was the source of the mysterious vapour, which hung over the entangled men and women like a perpetual cloud, and this was what Byron expected the boys to traverse.

          Quatre seemed to be paralysed from the neck up, so Trowa did the protesting for both of them. "Why don't _you_ come over _here_?" he asked, as there seemed to be no way across the room other than straight through the orgy.

          "Oh, no!" Byron laughed. "You want me to believe you're worthy of what's on this paper? You're going to have to prove it."

          Realising that the sight of so much sin must have been a hideous offence to Quatre, Trowa bravely volunteered. "I'll go," he said quietly, having to loosen his tie from the excessive heat in the room.

          "Don't you dare leave me here," Quatre said hoarsely. "We'll both go...I'm not leaving your side for a second in this place." He also found himself loosening his tie, and a few shirt buttons as well.

          Hesitantly, they began stepping slowly over to the evil morass. A look at each other and a look at the paper in Byron's hand seemed to confirm that they were doing the right thing, and they believed they could get across and back without incident. It would just be rather embarrassing, that was all. Trowa was the first to step down onto the silks and velvets, and Quatre clung both hands onto one of his arms before stepping down after. The nudes didn't seem to notice them at first, then simply worked around their intruding feet to pleasure themselves and each other without interruption. Then one of the young women grabbed Trowa's shoe and yanked it off playfully as he was trying to take his fourth step. He yelped and tried to grab it back, but it was gone, tossed somewhere off to the side where it couldn't be retrieved. Soon after, another young woman grabbed a handful of Quatre's pant leg, and he panicked, clutching Trowa tighter and practically trying to climb him like a tree.

          Byron and the woman in the black chiffon gown laughed luxuriantly at the scene. "I love the middle class," the woman purred, referring to the 'pets' in the centre of the room. "I love anything that has more money than morals, but the middle class has more hypocrites than any other. Do remember that."

          "Oh, I will," Byron chuckled back. He always enjoyed his visits to the crimson den, where nights of ecstasy were promised alongside complete confidentiality. Everyone in the pile had paid a dear price to be there, to throw off the shackles society had placed on them and indulge their licentious passions. When he wasn't in a private room with a wench all to himself, Byron liked to watch.

          In the middle of the room, things were getting unpleasant. The boys had made it about halfway across, but the crowd had noticed their new playthings and were entreating them to join in the fun, having pulled off three shoes, two socks, a jacket, and a tie between them. As they were getting bolder, Trowa and Quatre should have been getting more defensive, but something was preventing them from fighting back. A mere split second before it began to take effect, they both realised too late that the reason Byron was sitting up on the raised landing was that he didn't care to inhale any of the strange vapour, and the vapour itself explained why. Some of it was drifting up into the noses and mouths of the two boys, and as it seeped up to their brains, a cloud descended upon their consciousness. It started with mild dizziness, then progressed into enhanced sensation wherever they were being touched, and a cosmic giddiness, like being drunk. Their eyelids grew heavier and heavier, their focus on the paper in Byron's hand drifted away, and without even knowing it, they had been pulled right down into the heap of bodies, losing more and more clothing by the second.

          They were no longer aware of Byron, or the mission, or even their own names as the naked bodies converged on them both, blanketing them and exploring them without barriers. Soon, they melted into the mass and were lost, forms without identities, writhing and moaning as if they knew no other existence, nor wanted any.

**********  
  


          Duo and Heero well and truly took their time getting back to the manor; the outdoors, even with its frosty winds and occasional snow flurries, was less densely populated than their own house, and sometimes they simply wanted to be alone. A feather-light coating of snow had fallen on the neighbourhood by the time they made it to the back property line and clambered over the brick wall, and it glistened like tiny diamonds in the sparse moonlight, gems small enough to make necklaces for the fairies, all over the grounds. After the snow stopped, the clouds drifted away, leaving a crystalline, starlit sky overhead, of deepest blue punctured with hundreds of multicoloured pinholes. The boys found themselves staring up at it as they strolled, which was an act that was usually out of the question for Heero. Being fixated on one thing while walking forward was exceedingly hazardous under any circumstances, as evidenced by the fact that when he was suddenly smacked upside the head with a snowball, he never saw it coming.

          Duo ran away, hooting with laughter. Heero grinned evilly and gave chase, bending down as he ran to pick up glovefuls of snow with which to craft a counter attack. The braided snowball slinger apparently thought he could lose his pursuer by ducking into the hedge maze, but the hunter bravely followed him inside. As Heero wound through the twisting labyrinth of leaves and vines, a peculiar sensation seeped into his consciousness, the feeling that he had been in this same situation before. Duo's childlike laughter drifted back to him on the breeze, and the strains were so hauntingly familiar that he nearly froze in shock. Every now and again, he caught a glimpse of a chocolate brown braid trailing behind his quarry, and the familiar feeling became stronger still. He _had_ done this before! But when?

          Though he constantly heard the wavering laughter, he lost sight of Duo somehow, and became lost himself. Heero had never bothered to map out the hedge maze because he never thought he would be so silly as to wander into it, and besides, it was a child's game, and surely he was smart enough to find his way without a compass. A few wrong turns proved otherwise, as he hadn't been paying attention to where he had been going in the slightest. Heero found himself in a dead end, staring at a solid wall of coarsely-trimmed shrubbery more than six feet high, with no escape.

          Duo suppressed a snicker as he peeked around the corner of the cul-de-sac in which the hunter was trapped. He crept up on him, on little mouse feet, and at the last second, when Heero realized there was somebody near and turned to look, Duo rushed forward and tackled him. They collapsed into the thin layer of snow and struggled merrily against each other, each trying to stuff more snow down the other's shirt than could be stuffed down their own. After a prolonged wrestling match, the low temperatures began to sink in, and they flopped back on their elbows, laughing with a crisp exhilaration.

          Eventually they went silent, looking up at the sparkling sky that so rarely showed itself in winter, and they were blessed with the sight of a few shooting stars, also a scarce sight. It was then that Heero realised where and when he had been through that same experience. "...I had a dream just like this once."

          Duo's eyebrows flipped up, impressed. "Seriously? What happens next?"

          "Don't know. I woke up long before you got here." Heero then felt very lucky that he hadn't woken up so quickly this time; if it turned out to be another dream, he wouldn't complain if he stayed in bed all day just to be there. An impulse overcame him, and without any internal debate, he leaned over and gave Duo a quick kiss just below his ear, then went smoothly back to his stargazing.

          Even such a brief smooch warmed Duo up considerably, but as soon as he couldn't feel the cold anymore, he was staring at the side of Heero's head with wonder. "Is it really that easy for you to do that?" he asked carefully after a long think. Heero glanced back with a bit of a confused look, so Duo couldn't pretend he was mumbling something else; he had to elaborate now. "I mean...y'know...kissing me. You can just...shut your eyes and let it happen? No guilt? No shame? No...worrying if it's the right thing to do?"

          "You don't think this is a good idea?" Heero asked, sounding perplexed.

          "Geez, it's not that, it's..." Duo sighed to himself, wishing he'd never brought the subject up. "Okay. I just told you how lucky you were to have a mother who cared enough to instill some morals into you, and that's great. I grew up in an orphanage surrounded by nuns. _Catholic nuns_. They can make you feel guilty about going to the _bathroom_."

          Heero made a scrunched-up face that indicated he had heard more than he wanted to.

          "Okay, forget that. What I'm trying to say is that, even though those nuns don't know where I am, don't know what I'm doing, don't know who I'm with, _nothing_...they're all expecting me to be sitting in the snow..." Uncomfortably, Duo sat up, hugged his knees to his chest, and looked away from Heero as he forced out the last few words. "...kissing a girl. There."

          There were an awful lot of jokes Heero could have made about that statement, if he had the talent and the practice at making wisecracks, but he settled for something moderately clever and entirely true. "Well...it's a little cold out, but I don't mind waiting here while you run back to the church and clear it with them."

          Duo laughed. "I think I'm a little past asking permission," he said, falling back on his propped-up elbows, a bit more relaxed. "But...seriously, you're lucky. You're lucky to be good enough to turn in lost wallets, but that you're not so..._laden down_ with guilt that you can't make the tiniest move on your main squeeze without questioning your existence on the planet."

          Heero didn't know quite what to say to that, but felt something should be said nonetheless. "It's up to you, Duo.....it always has been. I wouldn't turn you down, but I wouldn't make unreasonable demands, you must know that by now."

          "Yeah...I know," Duo affirmed, smiling off in another direction. He wasn't entirely sure what Heero meant, or whether he knew what Duo would make of it, but it was comforting enough to lead to the suggestion that they go back inside and warm up, and get on with the next phase of the evening, whatever it might have been.

          When they slipped in through the kitchen door, Duo saw a note propped up on the table, lying against a bowl of apples. He picked it up and read it aloud, at which time the boys discovered that they were all alone in the huge house. Doris, Elsie, and Bethany had all gone out to a pub for the evening, to lament their lack of Valentines, and wouldn't be back until late. Hilde's name wasn't on the note, but she wasn't in the house either. Heero met the information with his usual lukewarm statistical interest, but Duo's senses were set on fire. They were alone in the house. No interruptions, no witnesses. He tried not to let the excitement show in his voice when he suggested to Heero that they change into warmer, drier clothes and regroup in the parlour with a roaring fire and a hot toddy each. The motion was carried unanimously, and off they went.

          The chef traded in his dark outdoors suit for his denims and a fuzzy red sweater a certain someone had bought him for Christmas, and Heero came dressed in the casual beiges and browns he had procured to show up Jeffrhyss some time ago. Following a recipe in the back of a cookbook, Duo made two hot cinnamon drinks with just a splash of Scotch in each, and they hauled one of the heavier sofas in front of the fireplace in the parlour, settling in for a cozy night. After a few sips of their drinks, they opted to sit on the rug so they could stretch out, and leaned against the edge of the sofa at just the right angle so they could tilt their heads back on the cushion and let the tensions of everyday life drain out through their toes.

          ".....this is nice."

          ".....mmm."

          Perhaps it was the alcohol, or the warmth of the fire, but something pleasant was masking the feelings of guilt as they tried to flog Duo's mind into a more orderly state. Putting his drink down off to the side, he curled up close on Heero's right, snaked both arms around his waist and nuzzled his neck. Nothing he had ever experienced in the whole of his life felt as good as that, the simple comfort of being snuggled up to his soul mate. Heero put his drink down as well, needing two arms to give Duo a proper squeeze in return, and involuntarily drew his feet up closer so that his knees were bent, and his shins were catching more of the heat from the fire. It gave rise to another one of their quiet conversations, the kind that just seemed to sprout out of nowhere.

          "Heero?"

          "Hn?"

          "Guilt aside...do you ever want more?"

          "More than what?"

          "...more than this."

          "I don't know what that could be..."

          "Well..." A devilish smirk crossed Duo's face and made his eyes sparkle with a mischievous light. Taking full advantage of the empty house, he got up on his knees, swung one leg over both of Heero's, and sat gingerly down in the gap between the boy's knees and the rest of his body, straddling him snugly. "If it turned out that you were interested...I could always show you," the chef purred. "I could probably do that easier than telling you." Never having been sat upon in quite that way before, Heero opened his mouth and drew breath to say something, but Duo quickly hushed him. "Shh shh! ...no talking in class."

          A crafty smile was all Heero saw before Duo put both hands on his shoulders and kissed him with slow and careful motions. He certainly wasn't going to argue with that sort of treatment, so he gladly put his arms around the boy and clutched him tightly against his chest. As often happened when they were adrift in a sentimental sea, Heero's mind wandered onto subjects he never gave a moment's consideration to the rest of the time, such as the question of what Duo's hair would feel like in his hands if it were unravelled from its braid. First, though, he had to relieve the uncomfortable pressure on the back of his neck as he was being weighted against the edge of the sofa with twice as much force. He let go of Duo long enough to swing his hands back to either side of his head, and shoved hard against the sofa, knocking it out from under him, so that he landed flat on his back on the floor, taking Duo with him. Though it was a purely tactical move, Duo's impression of it was tactile and nothing else. He squirmed and let out a pleasant little moan, and in doing so, he caused something unusual to happen.

          When the weight lying on Heero's midsection squirmed, it did so in just the right way as to send a series of electric shockwaves through his system, starting below his belt buckle and radiating outwards. Almost immediately, there was a sensation of tightening and swelling in the affected area, competing with Duo's weight for dominance. Mentally, Heero frowned. It was another one of those pesky malfunctions of the human body that his instructors had begun warning him about when he was twelve, and that began plaguing him regularly when he was thirteen. The only remedy was meditation, meaning he would have to stop what they were both doing and sit very quietly, exerting cognitive control over his body until the swelling was overcome. It had been many, many months since he had such an attack, so he couldn't imagine where it was coming from now; he also didn't care for the idea of stopping what he was doing, because biofeedback meditation was extremely boring in comparison with a good, long snog with Duo. Still, he would have to make a decision quickly because, as his instructors also warned him, the swelling would just grow more and more uncomfortable, and the sooner it was taken care of, the better.

          Duo hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary yet, and was just overwhelmed with not only the physical sensations, but the amazement that nobody had burst in and caught them yet. The very thought of someone coming in must have jinxed them both, however, for just when he had a hand on Heero's top shirt button and was beginning to work it open, the front door slammed.

          The chef sat up with a gasp, loose wisps of hair flying out from his braid and wafting back down as he turned his head to the parlour door, listening for activity down the hall. Heero just looked generally disappointed and thought to himself that if Duo was just going to sit there looking at the door, he'd sooner get the boy off him so he could get on with his badly-needed meditations. His wish was sadly granted as Duo stumbled to his feet and tiptoed frantically to the parlour door. He peeked one way down the hall, and then the other, and grew bold enough to take a few steps out in his stocking feet to search for intruders. Heero sat up just as he disappeared and went straight into damage control mode, sitting cross-legged with his arms perched limply on his knees, eyes closed and drifting into a familiar half-trance.

          "Oh, Duo! I had the most _wonderful_ day today!" Hilde's voice injected itself into the silence, uninvited.

          Out in the front hall, Duo stuck his hands in his pockets after straightening out his hair a bit, and pasted on a fake smile. _Yeah, and I was just about to have a wonderful night, you little..._ "Oh yeah? What happened?"

          Hilde sighed contentedly as she twiddled her fingers around the single pink carnation she carried, and having removed her coat, she began walking down the hall on her way to hang it up on its usual peg in the kitchen. "Wufei took me out to dinner, and we went on a ferry ride, and then we went to the pictures and saw this story about a rocket ship flying to the moon, and--" Her excited chatter stopped when she passed the parlour doorway, caught a glimpse of the roaring fire, peeked inside without thinking, and saw Heero sitting Indian-style amongst askew furniture, empty glassware, and a rumpled rug. Her eyes ballooned and she turned back to Duo with a hand over her gaping mouth. "Were you two in the middle of...oh, I'm _sorry!_" She turned to the door and held an apologetic hand up to Heero, who opened one eye at a distance and did little else. "I'm _so_ sorry. Go back to what you were doing, and you won't even notice I'm here, I _promise_. I just have to catch up on my dusting and then I'll be out of your hair." Tossing her coat into a corner, she seemed to abandon the idea of hanging it up in favour of hanging around the front halls, dusting needlessly.

          Duo grumbled, walked a few paces back inside the parlour, and Hilde's voice again trickled in at an unnecessarily high volume. "I'm not listening at the door, by the way! Just carry on like I'm not even here!"

          A little black raincloud followed Duo the rest of the way over to the displaced sofa, where he plunked himself down and stared with dissatisfaction at the top of Heero's head. "She just...wants us to be happy..." A thin excuse it was, but Hilde was still his friend. A minute passed, and Heero didn't move, or even acknowledge what had just happened. Duo squinted. "Uh...what are you doing?"

          "Meditating."

          "Oh." It seemed neither the time nor the place, but the mood was completely shattered anyway, so there wasn't much else to do. Duo leaned forward on his knees and propped his chin up in one hand, looking depressed, but it helped to remember what had happened instead of lingering on what didn't happen. He smiled a little as he stared into the fire. _Nice while it lasted..._

**********  
  


          Throughout the night in the crimson den, more dried leaves and mind-bending powders were poured over more hot coals, and the blob of bodies worked tirelessly on itself, until the sky began to lighten, signalling the dawn. Then, the party broke up in a very ordinary fashion. The regulars dressed themselves, paid their fees to the woman in the black gown, and some said their goodbyes for another week, while others slipped out shamefully by the back door, hoping not to be seen by anyone in their sober state. Byron had actually left hours ago, having been sufficiently amused by the human toys; after all, he had school in the morning. There were only two individuals left when the sky turned from black to midnight blue, and the birds began to sing.

          Cracking the dusky silence in two, Quatre came crashing out of the sunken door, up the stairs, and staggered right across the cobblestone street to land flat against another brick building. He was paler than usual, with dark circles under his eyes, and sank down to the ground with his back to the wall. When the vapours had cleared, he had only been able to find part of the clothes he came in with, but other people had left some bits and pieces behind, and so he ended up with black trousers, a brown cardigan that was at least two sizes too big, and one left shoe. He didn't look at all well.

          Trowa stumbled up the same stairs soon after, clutching his head while in the grips of a severe hangover. He had managed to find the coat he was wearing earlier, but was also left with a pair of grey slacks that ended four inches before his legs did, and a white business shirt with blue ink stains all down the front. Wrapping the coat tightly around him and shivering, he looked around frantically for Quatre, and rushed across the street when he spotted him. He would have sat down on the pavement next to him, but for some reason, he couldn't, so he folded himself down on his knees with his legs trailing off to the side, and gave Quatre's shoulder a firm shake. "Are you..." That was a stupid question before it was even finished. "You're not okay, are you?"

          Quatre's lips were quivering, and he was staring fixatedly across the street at the dungeon entrance. "If I was in my own country right now...I could be stoned to death for this."

          "There is absolutely _no_ way _anyone_ could fault you for what happened in there," Trowa insisted, sounding as if he was trying to convince himself as well. "It was all...drugs and treachery...and you were only trying to help us, and your family...."

          "They would need four witnesses to convict me...four witnesses who are _believers_..." The blond boy was still muttering on about what he had decided would be a just fate. He thought about the people he had just spent the night with, wondering if there were any among them who would help put him away, even though they were just as guilty as he was. "I don't think there were four believers of _anything_ in there."

          "Nothing's going to happen to you," Trowa repeated. "This was a million-to-one occurrence that's not likely to ever happen again, and _I_ certainly wouldn't sell you out to your government, or whatever it is you're scared of...it's going to be alright!"

          "I...I don't know...I'm just exhausted..." That much was indisputable. It had been a terribly long night, and now there was to be a terribly long day of self-accusation and feeling sick to the stomach with guilt. Before he got on the train to shame, however, he had a question. "Why are you sitting like that?"

          "Um..." Trowa was hoping to hide the moderate pain he was in, at least until they got home. It hadn't worked.

          Quatre's mind hurriedly replayed all of the gruesome events, searching for the cause of his friend's injury. Thanks to the narcotics, he had been transformed from a helpless victim to a _very_ active participant in the sensual melée, and among the hazy images and sounds, something stark and glaring jumped out at him. He hadn't spent the entire night as a captive of unhappily married women who pawed at him like a pale little mink coat; at some point, he got an exceptionally strong dose of the drug and went after Trowa. Whatever happened next was blurry, but what remained in his memory was having Trowa pinned face-down on the silken floor, with one arm twisted behind him, and from there it just got more and more blurry, mercifully. The blood drained quickly from Quatre's face, and he shrank away, wide-eyed with terror. "I hurt you, didn't I!? I knew it! Oh, _no_..."

          "No, it's not--" Just as Trowa was about to make light of his injuries, the very act of breathing seemed to bring on new twinges of pain. He winced. "It's just a dull ache. Not that bad." He soon realised he had to make it better before poor Quatre began to cry. "It's actually kinda funny when you think about it...I mean, here we both were, dancing around the subject of...and then we..."

          "That's not even _remotely_ funny."

          "Alright, then how about this..." With some careful angling and a long-held breath, Trowa managed to swivel himself to face away from the wall and gingerly lowered himself to the ground. Another wince, but it was alright, especially for having a knee jabbed into his back, a shoulder half-wrenched out of its socket, and a few other things he chose not to think about. "When I was a cabin boy aboard ship," he began with a half-smile, "it was my job to bring the captain fresh coffee in the morning, six o'clock _sharp_, and he said if I was ever late with it, I wouldn't be able to sit down for a week."

          They stared at each other, across a block of air thicker than anything they breathed in the crimson den. Quatre's mouth stretched out, though he was fighting hard against it, and as his eyes crinkled up, Trowa worried that he actually _would_ cry, but a moment later, his sides started shaking in a very different way. Up through his thin, tired body, swaying his hair out of place and squeezing his watery eyes shut, came silent peals of laughter, and Trowa was swiftly caught up in the current. They fell against each other and laughed right there in the street until everything hurt. It could have been post-traumatic stress, but it didn't seem to matter.

          In a while, they calmed down, and the sky was turning powder blue over one half of the city. They had to get home before they fell asleep there and were picked up by the police as vagrants. Trowa struggled into a standing position and checked his overall health; things still hurt, but they would heal much easier than Quatre's soul would, and he knew that soul would need a lot of care in the coming weeks. When he looked back down at him, the gardener seemed dazed and unsure of where they stood with each other once again. Trowa extended a hand down to him without a second thought. "We're still friends."

          Quatre smiled a bit, took the hand that was offered to him, and let Trowa pull him upright. They rearranged their remaining shoes and socks so that they each had at least something on both feet, and they leaned against each other as they walked unsteadily in a random direction. Out of money, but with plenty of time, they would take a good long while getting back home, and when they finally made it, they would need a good long sleep before checking the bridge between them for cracks. There was even a chance that it had been made stronger.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Seventy-Four: As a prize for being such entertaining guests at his party, Byron reveals the location of the Cinq Association's next major meeting, but not everyone can go, due to financial constraints. The group must choose who goes, who stays, and how they will get where they need to go._

...and in the grand tradition of PG-13 stories, I never _quite_ said what might have been said. =^_~= I'm a great believer in letting you fill in the gaps with your own imaginations. *chuckles* Ah, me...I don't have a Valentine this year, so I've just unleased some pent-up anxiety on this Episode. I hope it wasn't too much, or too little, or too weird, or anything else. Gotta keep pushing that envelope, you know. *sighs hopefully* Well, it's time to set the next date, and I think February 23rd would be as good a time as any. Gotta be going now. =^-^= *blows Valentine's kisses to you all*


	74. Penance

  
  


**Disclaimer:** I know, from traipsing through every store, mall, and boutique in the Greater Toronto Area, that nobody has Gundam pilots for sale. I even offered to pay retail instead of the supposed sale price, but they still said no. Therefore, I cannot possibly own these magnificent examples of manhood, or the chicks they hang out with. Do not sue me. I have no money except that miniscule amount reserved for presents.

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Seventy-Four: Penance

_"Suspicion follows close on mistrust." ~Gotthold Lessing _

February 23rd, 1903

At six-thirty in the morning, Quatre crept upstairs to the north hall, where the telephone sat on the little Chippendale table. Whenever he called Lady Une's estate, some snooty-sounding man told him in a clipped voice that Miss Dorothy was indisposed, so Quatre began varying the times of day at which he called, without success. Getting desperate, he risked making a severe nuisance of himself by picking extreme hours to call, and his next attempt was fast approaching. As he padded slowly across the creaky floorboards in his stocking feet, Shadow poked her furry head out from behind a corner, wondering what he was doing. The gardener put a finger to his lips and shushed her quietly, hoping she wouldn't rat him out.

With enormous care, Quatre slid the chair out from the hall table and sat down on the very edge of it, glancing around him one last time for intruders of the two-legged variety. Duo would be coming down to make breakfast any time, and he really didn't want word to get back to Heero that he was failing miserably in the Dorothy department. Picking up the ear piece, he scooted the whole telephone right up to his chin and whispered to the operator as Shadow jumped up on the table, hoping for a scratch behind the ears. Not long after that, the game began.

"Hello?" he breathed into the receiver. "Yes, it _is_ me again, and would you stop sounding like it's a crime against nature? ...well, I'm very sorry if I woke you, but in my humble opinion, you should have been up with the sun and at your work anyway. Dust doesn't stop accumulating just becau-- ...alright, fine. Just...would you _please_ check to see if Baroness Catalonia is available? As I told the butler before, it's very urgent."

One hand was wrapped tightly around the stalk of the telephone, and Shadow nuzzled it, purring. Quatre made a little exasperated noise, but unclenched his hand to pet the cat while he waited for the maid on the other end of the line to make her inquiries. Before long, Shadow flipped over to have her belly rubbed, but she would have to be disappointed.

"Hello? Yes? ..._what_?" Quatre's eyes bugged out angrily, and leaned heavily on the left-hand edge of the table, away from Shadow. This game was beginning to try his patience. "It is half-past six in the morning. _How_ can she be busy? If she's either asleep or avoiding me, just _say_ so." A tinny voice seemed to be yelling at him over the line. "I don't particularly care whether you like my tone or not! .....fine, you do that. And I'll be calling again, as many times as it takes until I get to speak to the Baroness." There was a savage click, and Quatre looked at the earpiece with mild offence as he realised he had been hung up on...again. He put the instrument back on its cradle and sighed, slumping backwards into the chair.

Shadow always seemed to know when her human pets were feeling down, and she jumped eagerly into Quatre's lap, kneading the front of his shirt with her front paws and offering mews of comfort. Eventually, he smiled and gave her a cuddle, and it really did make him feel better, though he knew it couldn't last. He was starting to feel like a royal failure, and he wouldn't be right again until he cracked the Dorothy problem wide open.

**********  
  


The doorbell rang at five past nine that morning, and Duo ran out of the kitchen like a bullet to get there before anyone else did. His braid trailed out behind him in mid-air, and he was making a peculiar 'ohboyohboyohboy' sound all the way to the front foyer, where he slammed right into the door to stop himself, then hopped back and flung it open gleefully. Two plainly-dressed delivery men were there, with matching tweed caps and matching moustaches, though one was a little shorter and stouter than the other. Their horse and cart was parked out on the street, and the taller of the two looked Duo up and down with a twitch before speaking. "You Maxwell?" he said in a lower-class drawl.

"Yeah, yeah! Bring it all in!" Duo stepped back from the open doorway, waving them into the foyer where they dumped their first armloads of brown-wrapped packages. Now that the good name and store credit of the Peacecraft family had been restored around town, it was back to shopping with a vengeance for Duo, who absolutely ravaged the mail-order catalogues looking for trinkets to stock his kitchen with.

By the time the rest of the household started to trickle in curiously, the delivery men had gone back to their cart to retrieve something very large that took two of them to lift. "What's all the fuss about?" Doris demanded, trotting down the hall as quickly as her plump legs could carry her.

"A revolutionary invention that's going to change the way you do housework!" Duo crowed. Almost instantaneously, the men brought in a huge wooden crate, three feet to a side and nearly twice as tall, and carefully put it down on the foyer carpet. That being the last of their load, they hung around and cleared their throats lightly, looking pointedly at the boy who had summoned them there. Duo's face lifted with a sudden realisation. "Oh! Hang on a second..." He had no cash on his person, and had to run off into the depths of the house to find the delivery men a tip.

Elsie looked very strangely at the giant wooden crate, then equally strangely at the shorter of the two men. "Wot's in it?"

"We don't open 'em, luv, we just deliver 'em," the stout man said gruffly and tiredly.

"Here you go!" Duo called out, running in from the back of the house a second time. Both workmen stretched out a hand, hoping for at least a few coins from such a fabulous household as Bridlewood, and were unexpectedly given a fairy cake each. "One for you...and one for you!" the chef chirped angelically, handing out the fresh-baked treats. "Those are apple cinnamon. Mmm boy! Well, thanks for all your hard work, I'm sure you've got a very busy schedule to keep." The boy rubbed his hands together briskly and smiled at the ever-so-subtle hint.

The two men looked at the fairy cakes, looked at each other, rolled their eyes, and left. They likely muttered something back and forth between them on their way back to their horse and cart, but it was just as well that the door was shut quickly and firmly behind them, so none of their miffed gutter language could waft into the manor. Back in the foyer, Duo was trying to crack open the large crate, and even though Trowa was a bit sick with a fever, something that had overtaken him without warning some days ago, he added his muscle power to the effort, and the top came flying off in a shower of sawdust and excelsior. Heero leaned against the bottom spindle of the banister with crossed arms and a whimsical squint as four pairs of hands dug into the box and pulled out a gargantuan machine of dubious purpose.

They set the bizarre thing on the bare floor next to the area rug and stood back to try and figure out what it was. It had two great wheels on either side, a tapered box-like object on the front that sat a fraction of an inch off the floor, a cylindrical canister with a locking lid, a motor underneath it all, and a series of hoses connecting everything to everything else. Whatever it was, Duo was pleased as punch to see it arrive safely, and quickly arranged his audience into a straight line in front of it. "Step right this way madam," he purred, pulling dear Doris aside like a midway barker, waving his arms about as he pontificated. "Tell me, madam, has the daily upkeep of your home turned you into a burned out wreck? Are you tired of using those _other_ sweepers that just don't get the job done? Do you want freedom from dirt? The Sweep-O-Matic 500 has the answer! This is the world's _first_ electrified vacuuming carpet sweeper, and it can be yours on an easy installment plan!"

"There's nothing wrong with our old sweeper," Doris protested. "We don't need this monstrosity!"

"Ah, you say that because you haven't seen the Sweep-O-Matic 500 in action!" Duo countered with a showman's smile. As part of his product demonstration, he opened up the locking lid to the giant cylinder and held it out like a dinner tray. "This chamber contains the industry's largest domestic particulate storage component ever released to the public!"

Skeptical, Elsie leaned forward and looked at the revolutionary technology inside. "It's a sponge."

Duo growled at her lack of innovative vision. "It's a _wet_ sponge...or at least, it will be in a minute. Here, gimmie that...that..." He hung his other arm out towards a vase of half-dead flowers that the girls had been watering fruitlessly for days, and waggled his hand, pointing at it. Hilde took the hint and fetched it from its little table, taking the flower remnants out and handing him the vase. He dumped the murky water into the sponge, replaced the lid, locked it, and set the vase down on the floor, off to the side. "Now then! To activate the system, you simply plug this into the nearest wall outlet..." He grabbed hold of the bulky electric plug, but couldn't find anywhere to plug it in. "Hm. Okay...there's gotta be one here somewhere..." Crawling around on his hands and knees, he finally found an empty socket halfway to the parlour. "...and switch on the wall switch, that's got it..."

By now, they were all at least mildly anxious to see the machine in action. Once Duo had dusted himself off and was standing back behind the device with his hand on the 'start' button, the tension of anticipation had reached its peak. With a flamboyant swirl of his arm, Duo pressed the button and the vacuum whirred to life, emitting a high-pitched, rattling hum from the electric motor. Duo flung out his arms proudly, and received a little round of applause for his magic act, and it was precisely then that things went south. The motor sputtered, then choked, then sputtered again, and finally ground to a clanking halt with some bright yellow sparks thrown in for garnish, and a thin plume of greyish smoke rose up from the bottom of the machine. Everyone jumped back, and the girls squealed a bit, briefly, but then it was over. The sweeper was dead.

Duo wavered back and forth between folding his arms and scratching the back of his head, looking down at the piece of junk vacuum. "Well...um...I guess there's a money back guarantee for a reason, now, isn't there?" The others groaned, and some of them started to walk away.

Heero walked up, with his arms still folded. "I'm starting to think you'll buy anything that comes from a catalogue. I hear there's a nice bridge in Brooklyn, if you're interested..."

"Oh shut up." Duo kicked the contraption. "I should've known, if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is. But at least I've got plenty of other stuff here to cheer me up..." He smiled and sauntered over to the original pile of brown packages, in which sat his other, more productive purchases.

Bethany was also looking at the stack, which was nearly as tall as she was, and gaped in awe. "'Aven't you got enuff junk already?" she scolded in a friendly way.

"I won't have enough junk until they've come up with an electric toaster. _Then_ my junk collection will be complete."

Shaking his head with a smirk, Heero wandered off and left them to it. They seemed to be the only ones interested in the catalogues' cornucopia, and they proceeded to open each and every package right there, instead of doing the sensible thing and taking them down to the kitchen first. During their rummagings, Bethany found a square, flat package, very rigid and not labelled in any way. She turned it over twice and still had no idea what it was. "This doesn't 'ave our address on it."

Duo paused in his unpacking to glance briefly at the flat object. He shrugged and shook his head. "I didn't order anything that size...maybe it was a gift-with-purchase or something."

Shrugging also, the maid opened it. There was a phonograph record inside, also unlabelled. She held it up and again asked if Duo knew anything about it, but he didn't, and suggested that she go give it a listen downstairs. Agreeing, Bethany abmled idly towards the kitchen, where the phonograph had found a semi-permanent home on a little-used patch of counter space. Duo liked to listen to his Sousa marches on occasion, and since he used the device more than anyone, nobody objected to it being kept there. She slipped the black disc out of its cardboard container, flipped it over twice to make sure it was right-side-up, and set it down on the circular bed of the phonograph. Cranking the lever on the side a few times caused the machine to rattle out of its slumber, and Bethany delicately lifted the needle arm over to the shellacked surface, walking away as she waited for the music to start.

It never did. The girl thought briefly that it was taking a long time, but being of a patient nature, she was content to open the back door and shake out her dustrag for a few moments more. Then, a young man's voice, tinny and irritating, wafted out of the fluted cone perched atop the Victor-made machine. As Bethany wandered back to the kitchen counter, she squinted in confusion.

_"...skipping out early. Highly enlightening, though. I have decided to reward you, even though you never actually made it through my menagerie. On this record, you'll find the same information..."_

Bethany couldn't make heads or tails of the peculiar monologue. It could have been a sales pitch. When Duo finally arrived with an armload of new kitchen gadgets, she pointed accusingly at the record. "Listen to that! What a load of gibberish!" Duo slowed down to listen to the tinny voice, and was just as perplexed as Beth was.

_"...have been a brilliant insult! Ah well...too late now. I hate live recordings. Bottom line is, you're officially..."_

The pair of them were still discussing it in confused tones when Quatre wandered in. Even above their idle chatter, he heard the snide, piercing voice coming from the phonograph, and it nearly froze the blood right in his veins. _That's Byron's voice!_ he thought in a panic, and he ran to the machine and hastily switched it off. Duo and Bethany looked puzzled and amused as the voice grew deeper and more drunken-sounding, going from 78 revolutions per minute to zero in a short space of time. "Bethany...I've got a bit of a twinge in my back, would you please go up to the conservatory and water my plants for me? _Now_?"

As Bethany went obediently up the stairs, for she was never too busy to help a semi-sick friend, Duo walked swiftly to the gardener's side and noted that he still had a hand clamped firmly on the start/stop lever of the phonograph. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing, could...could you go get Trowa for me? Please?"

Duo got one of those tingly feelings on the back of his neck, the kind that happens when one knows one is being kept in the dark for a reason, but he went upstairs anyway, to fulfill the request. Quatre's mind started spinning with terrible fears, not the least of which was the possibility of the others finding out what happened to him in one of the uglier parts of London recently. He was momentarily relieved at hearing footsteps on the stairs, but then was paralysed when those footsteps multiplied. Right behind Trowa were Heero and Hilde, and then Duo, who must have related how jittery and suspicious Quatre was acting, something the others couldn't ignore. They made a semicircle around him and the phonograph, staring with very open concern and not an ounce of judgement. They knew something was wrong now. Sighing, Quatre cranked the phonograph back up, put the needle arm down on the edge of the record, and stepped back. Whatever they heard, if it criminalised him in any way, he could simply deny until his dying breath.

_"Good morning, all! So you found my message in a bottle, did you? Good work, I have to say..."_

Heero's eyes twitched right away. There was no mistaking Byron's self-important sneering.

_"I should start by thanking you...some of you...for providing some quality entertainment the other night. It was...interesting, for awhile, at least...then it just got strange, and I had classes in the morning, and...well, I hope nobody minds me skipping out early. Highly enlightening, though."_

Without being noticed by anyone, Trowa and Quatre exchanged guilty glances.

_"I have decided to reward you, even though you never actually made it through my menagerie. On this record, you'll find the same information that was given to all other concerned parties earlier this year, about the fiscal meeting. Don't any of you be late, either...I'll expect to see you there, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed...and, no, that's not a smart remark about the other night, although now that I think of it, that would have been a brilliant insult! Ah well...too late now. I hate live recordings. Bottom line is, you're officially invited now, so even if you did weasel the location out of someone else, now you won't be shot for trespassing. I hope Heero's proud of his little soldiers...even if they are nutty as a fruitcake."_

Heero was beginning to look slowly around the circle, looking for traces of understanding on the faces around him. While he was mulling it over, the voice on the record suddenly changed, from Byron to a much older man, with an indeterminable type of accent. He spoke hesitantly but calmly, as if he had dictated these same words dozens of times before, and as if he expected the listener to write them down and destroy the record immediately afterwards. _"Begin at.....Marrakesh.....Morocco.....thirty-one hours...thirty-seven minutes...thirty-four seconds north.....seven hours...fifty-nine minutes...twenty-two seconds west.....obtain transport and proceed south-west to..."_

Not intending for a minute to destroy this valuable piece of evidence, Heero reached out and switched the machine off, still glaring from face to face. "What was _that_ all about?"

"Heero, who was that guy?" Duo asked, shifting his weight to one foot. "You know him, I can tell."

"Yeah, who is he?" Hilde echoed.

Trowa and Quatre said nothing, and avoided looking at Heero. That told him easily that they were the ones responsible for Byron's change of heart, if only he could discover how they did it. Since they weren't coming forward with the information, he could only assume that it was something they didn't want him to know. He fixed both eyes on Quatre, whom he assumed was the more pliable of the two."It was Byron. But why the sudden willingness to help us?"

Quatre looked wide-eyed to either side, then shrugged wordlessly. It was the worst job of hiding responsibility that Heero had ever seen.

"I think we'd better have a discussion about this new information," the butler declared when it was clear that no further clues were forthcoming. "Everyone be ready to leave in ten minutes."

**********  
  


Soon, there was an emergency meeting happening at the pub, with all concerned parties huddled around the table while the latest information was passed out. Duo, Heero and Hilde stuck to one side of the table, Wufei sat at the end nearest the door, and Sally, Lucrezia, Trowa and Quatre made up the other side. On the way there that afternoon, the group stopped in at a travel consultant to collect some facts and figures about travelling abroad. This was the big break they had all been waiting for, the chance to get an inside look at the Cinq Association's dealings and possibly devise a strategy to take them all down, but first, they had to hammer out some financial realities.

Heero stood up, leaned lightly on the table, and addressed his staff. "We have a date...we have a place...now all we need to do is decide who's going to make the trip. Mr. Treasurer?"

"Hold on..." Quatre was working furiously on the numbers, scratching pencil against paper until, and well after, his hand started to cramp up. The group hadn't yet spared the money to buy an adding machine. After a few more minutes of pencil scratchings, he breathed out a long sigh and sat up, his eyes targeted down at the grim numbers. "Well...we already decided that we don't want to touch our investments, so if we want to send anyone to Morocco, we'll have to do it on dividends and savings alone. So, taking into account boat fare, accomodations, train tickets from the coast to the desert regions, food..."

The boy made a few more scritches and scratches, then stared at the final result long enough for Heero to grow impatient. "How many of us can go?"

"Three."

They all looked let down, for many different reasons, ranging from having inadequate manpower to spy on all the people they needed to spy on, all the way down to just wanting to get out of the miserable English weather and into the hot sun for awhile, and having a reduced chance of doing so. Lucrezia tried to shine a bright light on the situation, shrugging and putting forth in a mousey voice, "It's better than just one..."

Heero stood behind his chair and leaned down on the back of it, grimacing. "But still...I was hoping for as much backup as possible."

"So you've automatically elected yourself to go, have you?" Wufei sneered.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I just think we should all have an equal opportunity to go, since this is such an important event," the boy in white scoffed. "Our choice of what personnel to send could be critical to our success."

"Yeah, but, success at what?" Hilde interjected. "I think we all have a different idea of what we're supposed to be doing, and sending the _wrong_ people could mess us up even worse!" While Hilde's observation was perfectly astute, it didn't have a very productive effect on the conversation. The debate soon swelled into an unruly argument, with everyong trying to make their case at once as to why they should be one of the three to go.

Always the civic-minded one, Trowa stood up, banged a hand flat on the table, and was able to raise his voice well above the others, despite his overall weakness from the strange fever. "Hold it! Hold it!" he hollered. Everyone stopped their bickering and looked at him, which was honestly more than he expected. He blushed a bit before continuing. "There's only one way to settle this, and that's democratically. I propose that we all draw straws to see who goes." The murmurings of the group turned suddenly positive, and they all seemed to think that this was a very promising idea. Trowa nodded. "I'll see what Cathy has that can help us."

The rest of them waited rather quietly for the boy's return, and after only a few minutes, he arrived with Catherine in tow, eager to help. Without telling her what it was for, Trowa told the barmaid exactly what they needed, and she came through for them yet again. In one hand, she carried a small handfull of long, narrow paper tubes with a spiralling red stripe travelling down each one.

"Those are drinking straws!" Duo protested.

"You expect me to have any other straw around here?" Catherine snapped back. "This is an eating establishment, not a barn! Now...how many winners do you need?"

"Three," said Trowa.

"Mm hm..." Taking a pair of scissors out of her apron, she took three straws out of the bunch and chopped two and a half inches off them, then mixed them back in with the others, leaving the stubby bits on the table. She then turned around, arranged the straws in some secret formation, taking up both of her hands, and turned back to face them with a brightly-drawn breath. "Alright, who's first?"

"I respectfully decline," said Sally, holding up a hand in amiable protest. She looked over at Heero and shrugged slightly. "I can't be away from my practice for that long."

Heero nodded. "Understood."

"I'll go," Hilde said, and she reached out to take the first straw. It was a long one, and she seemed a bit disappointed. A holiday in Tunisia would have gone down nice after that boring old meeting. She sat down with a pout. Next, Catherine moved over to Wufei, who seemed ultra-confident that he would select a short straw. He did not. Instead, he joined Hilde in pouting and slouching in chairs well off to the side.

Trowa was the next nearest after that, and to his surprise, he drew a short straw. He blinked at it, then looked around the ring of faces, almost apologetically. "But...I can't leave the country...I don't have any papers, or documents, or--"

"Don't worry about that," Sally said suddenly. "Anyone who needs a quick passport, I can get it for you."

Everyone was surprised at the admission, Heero most of all. "How exactly can you do that?"

Sally smirked. "Easy. One of my more reluctant patients is a clerk who works with immigration. He'll either give me whatever official documents I want, or I'll tell his wife what he was _really_ doing when he threw his back out of alignment." Impressed glances flew around the room. "That's right, I've got a devious mind just the same as any one of you," the doctor said proudly.

Catherine didn't even pretend to understand. She simply shrugged and went further around the table to Quatre. As the bundle of straws approached, he eyed each of the flimsy paper tubes with a peculiar sensation coming over him. There was a problem in his life, a mountain of sin and depravity which he could neither climb nor circumnavigate alone. In his mind, he desperately needed absolution, or at least a form of punishment that wasn't self-driven, and he couldn't get either one of those things in England. Morocco could provide the means of his salvation, if he could sneak away from the pack and throw himself on the mercy of others belonging to his faith. He wasn't even sure what he wanted from them, whether it was to be scorned, or beaten, or if he was exceptionally fortunate, for someone to tell him that what happened after chasing Byron wasn't his fault. Trowa had already told him that a hundred and one times, but it wasn't the same. Somehow, it didn't seem to count unless it came from people accountable to the same God that Quatre was. It was potentially all within his grasp, if he could only choose one of the two remaining short straws, and then plan a brief disappearing act after the fiscal meeting. It wouldn't have to be for very long, maybe a day or two...and then he'd be back to his seeds and bulbs in time for the spring planting. It could work.

Quatre fought to keep his hand from trembling as he reached out to grasp a straw. He wavered between two in the middle before finally committing to one and yanking it out. It was long. His face fell, and he dropped the straw into his lap as he sat back down. Trowa saw his disappointment, but could never have known how much that trip to Morocco meant to his friend.

Swerving around chairs to get to Lucrezia, Catherine held out the fistful of paper sticks, which was dwindling rapidly. Lucrezia briefly pondered declining the same way Sally did; she honestly didn't feel like a cross-border trek, and she was still concerned about her family tracking her movements. On the other hand, she had grown considerably stronger during the last few years, and if they tried to march her across the Atlantic to marry Mr. Rockefeller after all this time, she felt she had the confidence to say no and stick to it. The only thing left that could possibly keep her in England would be Milliardo, and since he had chosen to isolate himself so thoroughly... "Couldn't hurt," she muttered to herself, and she elegantly pulled out a short straw. As soon as she saw it, she wasn't sure if she wanted it, but it was too late.

Now the barmaid turned to Duo and Heero, and neither of them looked happy. There was no way to avoid being separated now. One of them was statistically bound to leave the other behind. Anxious and already depressed, they simultaneously reached out for the remaining two straws. Heero got the short one. He waggled the straw back and forth in his fingers as if tapping the air, and seemed to sigh with his eyes. "...well...maybe this would be as good a time as any to...break for lunch."

Taking the hint and running with it, Catherine excused herself to fetch them all some menus, and the rest of the group scattered a bit, condensing into smaller units with less firey topics for debate. Duo stared at the floor for a bit, then walked quietly out of the meeting room, his braid dragging sadly behind him. Heero wasn't very far behind, as soon as he saw the mood his friend was in. He found the chef out in the hall, at the dead end furthest from the hustle and bustle of the main dining area, leaning against the wall and picking at his fingernails. Heero walked up beside him, stuck his hands in his pockets, and waited for Duo to start venting.

"I don't want you to go," the chef said quietly. He then appeared to have a sudden brainstorm, and chattered excitedly about it. "Maybe I can scrape together enough money to go with you! I'll send all that stuff back that I bought! Sure, it was on Relena's account, but maybe if I bring it to the store in person, they'll give me the cash and then I...can....." It was sounding less and less plausible the more he harped on it, so he stopped, and looked back down at his nails.

"I won't be gone long. A few days...a week at the most. There's likely to be a rush of people leaving the area right after the meeting, so..." It was quite plain that Duo wasn't being cheered up at all by this fact. Heero looked around to make sure nobody was watching, then stepped closer and rubbed one of Duo's shoulders warmly. "We've been apart longer than that before."

"If it was anywhere else, I wouldn't be so worried," Duo explained, still looking away. "If you were going to Paris to study painting, I wouldn't be so worried. If you were going to Rio with a boatload of dancing girls, I wouldn't be so worried!"

It was easy to understand why he was so upset. Duo never liked the idea of Heero being within five hundred miles of Jeffrhyss, and now they would undoubtedly be in the same room together. Rationally, Duo knew and trusted each and every one of Heero's abilites, enough to let him go without any fear that he wouldn't come back. But still, he worried. "...I'll bring you back a souvenir," Heero teased.

At last, Duo looked up and grinned, clamping an arm around Heero's neck and squeezing playfully. "Yeah, you'd better!" They had a bit of a chuckle over it, and then it was fine. It was starting to sink in that worry didn't do either of them any good, and that it was best to enjoy what they could while they were able. Keeping that in mind, Heero chose to wait awhile before seriously pondering Trowa and Quatre's role in their windfall; Duo was still the top priority.

**********  
  


Quatre spent the afternoon alone in the conservatory. There were plenty of places he could have gone if he needed some solitude, but he naturally gravitated to the conservatory because the very presence of greenery was calming to him. The plan was to lay low for awhile and figure things out, but his mind had shut down like someone had tossed a wooden shoe into his internal gears. He had little means of defence when Trowa wandered in, pausing briefly to knock at the door frame.

"Want some company?"

Quatre didn't protest, but didn't encourage him to stay either. Nevertheless, the cinnamon-haired boy took a seat on one of the white-painted iron chairs and waited for something to happen. After a moment or two, Quatre sighed. "You know...I tried going into town yesterday, to get my mind off it...and it seemed like everywhere I went, there was a girl smiling at me. They were probably just being friendly, but I kept looking at them and wondering...'Was she there? Does she know?'"

Trowa nodded a bit, and leaned back in his chair, slouching. "I've been getting some of that too. There's probably nothing to worry about though...we'll never see those people again."

"Oh, I see them," Quatre said fervently. "...every night, in my dreams, I see them."

"What can I do to make you forget this ever happened?"

The gardener stood and walked around the conservatory with his hands in his pockets, shaking his head and furrowing his brow from the lingering anxiety. "Nothing. I don't need to forget. This may be difficult to understand...but I need to be punished before I can move on. This is absolutely the _worst_ thing I've ever done, and there's _no one_ I can talk to about it. Not my sisters, not my friends, not--"

"Why not me?"

"Because..." Quatre stopped his pacing and glared. "Do I have to explain why??"

"You don't _need_ anyone to punish you, because you're doing a fine job of that all by yourself!" Trowa observed. "The only person you have any reason to be afraid of is me, and I keep telling you, I'm okay with it!"

The gardener pouted, picking at a wilting ficus plant. "It doesn't feel like that's enough."

"Well, it should be. We both know I'm not the religious type...aside from the usual sailors' prayers for good weather and that sort of thing, I haven't been exposed to it all that much...but I've already forgiven you a dozen times. All these rules for behaviour are just there to bring order to society, and protect the victims, but I don't _feel_ like a victim. We got in a jam, things happened, we got out safely, and that's all there was to it. Now...you can either drag yourself around the house wearing a haircloth and flogging yourself every five steps..." That actually made Quatre giggle a bit. "...or you can _let it go_ and start talking to me again."

It was truly the best offer he'd had since the nightmare began, and since all the terrible offers were coming from somewhere in himself, he thought that fate must have been trying to tell him something. Now wasn't necessarily the time to close himself off and wait for righteous retribution--he was needed too badly in the real world. Quatre smiled. "Okay."

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Seventy-Five: The trek to Morocco brings surprises, danger, answers, and perhaps more questions as the chosen three crash the biggest party of the year. Back in London, Quatre makes one last, desperate attempt to win Dorothy over, with unexpected results._

Bad weekend. Bad, bad, bad weekend. But never mind. It's over. And I'm back in business, yay! =^_^= It might seem like a long way away, but the next episode will be on March 10th, and I promise you, it will _more_ than make up for the lateness of this eppy. =) Thanks again for sticking by me, it really means a lot.


	75. The Outpost

**Disclaimer:** I know, from traipsing through every store, mall, and boutique in the Greater Toronto Area, that nobody has Gundam pilots for sale. I even offered to pay retail instead of the supposed sale price, but they still said no. Therefore, I cannot possibly own these magnificent examples of manhood, or the chicks they hang out with. Do not sue me. I have no money except that miniscule amount reserved for presents.

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Seventy-Five: The Outpost

_"Nothing is easier than self-deceit. For what each man wishes, that he also believes to be true." ~Demosthenes, "Third Olynthiac" _

March 10th, 1903

The travellers boarded a train before sunrise, in the coastal city of Kenitra, and a firey orb rose above the plains and the mountains and the deserts as the rattling juggernaut sped towards Marrakesh. The trio was surprisingly calm, even while faced with the most terrible of all unknowns. Jeffrhyss would be waiting for them, along with the rest of his evil contemporaries. Anything could happen.

Some smart business decisions in Kenitra meant that they could afford a private compartment for the three of them, rather than being separated across a vast sea of cheap seats in the other cars. The compartment even came with a few enchanting perks, such as thick velvet curtains to keep out the sun, and a little games table in between the two bench seats. While Trowa stalked the corridor to stretch his lanky legs, Heero and Lucrezia sat opposite each other, half-heartedly studying the chessboard before them. Lucrezia was presently contemplating her next move, and Heero gazed out the window, only barely paying attention to the game.

He was facing backwards, and watched the scruffy landscape fall away from him at a speed that was somehow much too fast and agonizingly slow at the same time. The memory of his last day in England was a troubling one, and key parts of it were replaying in his mind, over and over...

~~~~~~~~~~~  
  


_Two adventurers and three suitcases stood in the foyer of Bridlewood, poised to vanish for what could become a long time. They were leaving two days early, and expected to make the meeting on time if they kept a steady pace. All of their traditional European clothes were left in their rooms, and in their stead, Quatre had made them all light-coloured robes and casual pantsuits, in fabrics more suited to desert travel. He was awfully supportive of their journey, and never once revealed his crushing disappointment at not being able to go._

Before Heero could join the others, Duo pulled him aside near the top of the stairs at the second floor landing, where no one else was around. "Hey..."

Heero waited patiently for him to say something else, but the chef was suddenly mute, his eyes darting between Heero and the floor, and his hands crammed into his denims' pockets to hide their nervous twitching. "What is it?"

Duo had been trying to say what it was all week, but the words just wouldn't squirt out no matter how hard he squeezed. This was his last chance to tell Heero something very important before he left, and he wasn't doing a very good job of it. "Heero...I..." The temperature seemed to rise about 30 degrees, and he backed out of his statement with a shy smile. "Come back safe, okay?"

Without even the smallest safety check for onlookers, they shared a spontaneous hug. "I guarantee it," Heero reassured him, rubbing his back comfortingly, but with his chin resting snugly on the other boy's shoulder, Duo frowned. He had failed at the one and only task he had assigned himself, and felt a little cowardly because of it.

The pair marched downstairs, and once the travellers had said their goodbyes, they were off. No one at the manor would lay eyes on them again for at least a week, and some of them took it harder than others.

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


As Heero continued to stare out the window, daydreaming, he wondered what it was that Duo almost said, but didn't. It wasn't that difficult to tell that the boy had changed his mind about something, but figuring out what that something was would be very difficult indeed.

More disturbing than that was the very physical turn their relationship had taken, or rather, Heero's internalised reaction to it. On some level, he genuinely enjoyed the closeness, something so far removed from anything else he had experienced before, but on another level, he asked himself one of those pesky 'what if' questions, and it all began to fall apart. In the last few weeks leading up to the present, whenever Duo touched him, held him, kissed him, doubt was creeping in. Not doubt about Duo, but about himself.

_If I go back home and it all feels different, I don't know what either of us will do. Why did I have to question myself on that one measely point? Now our whole friendship seems uncertain...but maybe if I can just put it out of my mind, long enough to let him shape me into whatever he wants, then I won't have to think about it again...the possibility that I'm only 'with' him because--_

"Your move," Lucrezia said, a little forcefully. It was the second time she had said it, as the first declaration hadn't yanked Heero's attention away from the window. This time, though, it worked.

"Hn?" he grunted before glancing back down at the chessboard. "...oh." He leaned forward, gave the pieces some thought, and moved a bishop without much ceremony.

Lucrezia stared at him. "That was pathetic."

"Why?"

"Before you did that, I would've had you in ten moves. Now I'll beat you in three."

Heero squinted, almost angrily. "_What_?"

Lucrezia sighed and turned the board sideways, proceeding to explain exactly how and when she would capture the black queen and have the king cornered in an embarassingly short number of moves. After recognizing the gravity of his mistake, Heero slouched back into the padded bench and rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly. He hadn't really been concentrating on the game at all. Lucrezia leaned forward briefly and patted his knee before sitting back with a smirk. "Awww...don't feel bad. You were doomed the minute you took the pieces out of the box anyway."

"Don't worry," Heero growled back with a slight grin. "Next time, I'll make you work for it."

Before Lucrezia could snap off an appropriate challenge for a reply, the train's great, booming whistle blew, signalling...something. A moment or two later, Trowa opened the narrow, wood-panelled door to their compartment and poked his head inside. "Everyone's rearranging themselves. I think we're almost there."

Sure enough, a tall stone wall and a few small mud brick buildings flew past the window at a distance as the train gradually headed into Marrakesh. Soon, the buildings became larger, more numerous, and closer together as they flew into the city centre. The droning sounds of thousands upon thousands of people going about their daily business drowned out the sound of the train itself. The bare, stark scent of open desert was replaced with a mixed aroma, of curry and spices, of camels and goats, and of open flames being used to cook all manner of exotic delicacies. Long before the train pulled into the station and ground to a halt, a lively Arabic chatter swarmed around everyone's ears, creating pleasant background noise.

With their custom-made clothes, the trio blended in rather well. Drawing a canvas-like cloth over her head and across her face, Lucrezia pulled both hands into her ground-length garment and seemed to disappear except for her eyes, the only feature that was visible. Heero and Trowa had similar off-white robes, but with the added features of hooded cloaks overtop and pocketed trousers underneath. Thin ropes of dusty tan tied their matching tunics closed, bound their pant legs to their worn leather boots to keep out the sand, and lashed various items such as waterskins and money pouches to their belts. Heero especially appreciated the way the flowing ensemble hid his holster and gun.

Exiting the train was an adventure in itself. Heero led with one suitcase dangling and one elbow extended, having to push a swath through the jostling crowd as it oozed out onto the platform like molasses. Lucrezia walked in the middle, keeping her eyes glued to the hem of Heero's cloak as Quatre had advised, and Trowa brought up the rear, carrying a suitcase in each hand. His relatively light-coloured hair clearly marked him as a tourist, while Heero didn't seem to get stared at nearly as much. They were practically sling-shot into a bustling marketplace filled with bargaining merchants, musicians, beggars, and clusters of old men talking about all the problems in the world over cups of steaming hot tea. It seemed just like London in many ways, just with a different veneer.

Finally reaching a plot of unpopulated dirt in the market square, the trio stopped to regroup and review their instructions. "The voice after Byron's message was very clear about where we're supposed to go," Heero began, looking at both the written directions and a map. "Which way is southwest?"

Without missing a beat, Trowa extracted a compass from his robes and held it level with the ground, slowly turning to face southwest. "That way," he declared.

The next hurdle was the actual distance they had to cover. It would be several hours' worth of walking, and procuring something with wheels would be their best bet. On the plus side, a large portion of the local populous spoke French, so Heero didn't expect that communication would be a problem. What _did_ turn out to be a problem was that nobody had any vehicles for hire. No carts, no barrows, and there certainly wasn't a proper carriage within hundreds of miles. Every operable mode of transport had already been hired out to any of the hundreds of other 'tourists' that had arrived on that specific week. Desperation led Heero to look at livestock instead.

Trowa and Lucrezia watched from a distance as Heero tried to negotiate with a bearded merchant for the use of his camel. Having already burned the better part of an hour searching for a donkey cart or something comparable, they were willing to take what they could get.

"If we started walking _right now_," Lucrezia conjectured in a cloth-muffled voice, "would we make it there before dark?"

Trowa shrugged, still observing the haggling process. He was too far away to hear what was being said, not that he would have understood it anyway, but when Heero held up two fingers while trying to explain that he needed the camel for two days, the merchant called to his equally-bearded assistant, who brought over a second camel. At that point, Heero waved his hands in frustration and started over, to the merchant's confusion. "Maybe," said Trowa, "but at this rate, I wouldn't bet on it."

Finally, a deal appeared to have been struck, and Heero nodded tiredly as he handed some coins over to the merchant, who handed over the camel's reins as he wished the silly tourist well. Knowing even less about camels than he did about horses, Heero regarded the beast strangely and gave the reins an experimental tug. To his surprise, the animal took step forward. Pleased with himself at last, he guided the beast over to where the rest of his tribe stood waiting. "Meet the new valet," he quipped.

Trowa immediately started walking a slow, full circle around the camel, while Lucrezia actually took a step backwards. "How long did you get it for?" she asked with uncertainty.

Frazzled, Heero coiled the rope around one hand and pulled tight. "I'm not totally sure, but I think I may have bought him outright."

"_Her_," Trowa called from behind the camel's behind.

"Ask me if I care!" Heero snapped back.

Lucrezia squinted and made a disbelieving face beneath her veil. "_How_ did you manage to _buy_ a Rent-A-Camel?"

Heero immediately pointed an angry and accusatory finger at the majority of the city behind him. "_That_ is _not_ the kind of French you learn out of a textbook! Besides, at the price he was asking, we couldn't have afforded more than one, so it's going to have to do."

Trowa re-emerged on Heero's left and seemed to approve of his purchase. "You'd probably get charged more for a female anyway, in case you wanted to breed them," he suggested. "She might even be pregnant."

A momentary look of horror washed over Heero's face, followed by justifiable exasperation. He stuck a finger squarely in the centre of Trowa's chest. "If we have to stop in the middle of the desert and drop a calf in the sand, that's _your_ job."

"Gladly!" Trowa chirped.

Shaking his head with a gruff and unintelligible grunt, Heero led his enlarged troupe to another corner of the market, where they bought some rope, with which they lashed their three suitcases to the camel's back and sides, after several tries. As they manoeuvred into the southwest corner of the city, buying extra food and water along the way, it came time to put the animal to its true test. Heero stopped the camel with a tug of the rope, looked ahead past the city walls at the distance they had to cover by nightfall, looked at Lucrezia, and tilted his head towards the camel. "Alright, get on."

Lucrezia blinked, then glared. There was indeed room on the camel's back for one person, but she didn't see why it had to be her. "Why me?"

"I've seen you trip over those clothes four times already, and we haven't even left the city limits yet," Heero stated, "and even if I wasn't trying to be gentlemanly about it, I would think it'd be more ladylike to ride the rest of the way."

"He's right, you know," Trowa chimed in, joining the others in wiping copious amounts of sweat off his brow. "It's not even noon yet and it _must_ be eighty degrees out here, and we'll be out in the open sun for _hours_. The calendar may say it's winter, but we're still at risk for heat exhaustion, and--"

"And being a lady of leisure, I'm so delicate that I couldn't handle it," Lucrezia finished spitefully. "I'm surprised at the pair of you."

"Think about that four-hour cultural debriefing Quatre gave us last week," Heero reminded her after a brief think. "The locals might very well expect to see you _up there_, not walking alongside us, and we'd do well not to draw attention to ourselves."

The whole of Lucrezia's form sighed from the veil down. Suddenly, the camel was staring at her, as if feeling hurt and rejected, even though she knew such a thing was impossible. ".....fine...so how do I get on it?"

Much debate and deliberation was expended on that subject. They finally walked the camel behind a building where they were less likely to draw stares and laughter, and with Heero giving her a step up on one side and Trowa waiting to grab her flailing arms on the other side, they helped her amble on top of the beast, where she eventually regained her balance with helpful prods to either leg. After putting her fallen veil back into place, falling forward onto the camel's neck, sitting up and replacing the veil yet again, she promptly told the boys that she didn't care how ladylike she looked, and there was no way in hell she was going to ride that thing sidesaddle. They agreed.

The time had come to leave the city they had known so briefly. Perhaps some other day, when they didn't have the fate of the world resting on their shoulders, there would be ample opportunity to explore the charming town, but not just yet.

**********  
  


Quatre felt sure that he had prepared his friends for just about every cross-cultural eventuality they were likely to encounter, and still he felt empty and worried when they left. The worried feeling persisted through idle days and sleepless nights, until he guessed that he was probably feeling useless, and that was somehow translating into worry. Chores around the house and garden weren't as satisfying as they should have been; he felt he had to accomplish something of mega-importance before he could rest. The only task that came to mind, however, was the persistent plague that was Dorothy Catalonia, and the personal value he placed on her co-operation.

After trying and failing dozens of times, there was no reason to think that day would be any different, but without thinking, Quatre found himself sitting down at the Chippendale table yet again, contemplating the telephone with growing pessimism. _I've got nothing left to offer anymore...not even the money I would have given her before we needed it for travel expenses. I'm wasting my time on Dorothy...I have been all along. Who knows what might have happened to my family while I've been frittering away my time? ...today won't be the day either, I can feel it._

In spite of his doubts, an electric impulse raced from his brain down to his arm, telling it to pick up the earpiece to the telephone and give Dorothy one last try, but before the impulse even reached its destination, the telephone rang, giving Quatre a terrible shock. No one else was nearby to take the call, so he hesitantly picked up the earpiece in the middle of the second ring. "...hello?"

The voice on the other end was patched through and immediately began crying into the phone. "Oh, I'm so glad it's you!" It was Dorothy's voice.

Quatre's brain nearly blew a fuse. "What are _you_ doing, calling he--"

"No time for that!" Dorothy whispered harshly in a tear-ridden tone. "I didn't know who else to call! Oh, it's just awful!"

"What is?"

"The things that go on in this house!" the girl sniffled. "I used to think I could handle it, but it's gotten _much_ worse! I can only talk now because Treize is out of the house and it's safe now, but he could be back anytime! Please, help me!!"

Quatre's stomach was twisting in knots now. She sounded serious. "Alright...calm down and tell me what's going on."

"No, I don't _dare_ speak of it over the telephone, someone might be listening! Bad enough that they're always standing over my shoulder whenever I talk to you, this is the first time they've left me alone since--"

"If it's that bad, why don't you call the police?"

"I _tried_ that!! And Treize hid the evidence so it just looked like I was out of my mind! They bawled me out for wasting police time and they _left_! I've got no one else to turn to now!" Whatever was happening seemed bad enough to make her choke on her own tears, and she began blubbering so badly that she could no longer hear when Quatre called her name.

He held the earpiece away from his face and stared at it, the piercing sounds of her sobbing tearing holes in his sympathetic heart. Convincing though it sounded, he wasn't quite sure. _...help Dorothy? After all the evil she's done?_ Only days earlier, he wouldn't have given it proper consideration, but things had changed since then. _Maybe I'm being offered a chance to do good...to atone..._ If it lessened his punishment in the afterlife, it was worth it. He put the earpiece back up to his ear and leaned forward. "Dorothy?"

The girl's pathetic snivelling slowed and stopped, and she whimpered out a "Hm?" noise.

Quatre took a deep breath and held it. "What do you need me to do?"

There was a strange silence on the other end of the line. ".......come to the house, _alone_, by the side door next to the woodshed. You know where that is?"

The gardener nodded, slowly. "I can find it."

"I wish _I_ could come to _you_, but it's too dangerous! You have to see what's happening to understand it, and I _need_ someone to believe me! Please hurry!!" With that, the line went dead.

It all seemed settled. Putting the telephone back together, Quatre had an icky feeling in the pit of his belly, but dismissed it as nerves. It wouldn't be easy, being helpful and nice to someone so vile, but it was potentially just what he needed. He thought a little bit more about how unpleasant Dorothy's problem must have been if she had already tried the local authorities, and wished that Heero was around for consultation. He always knew what to do in a harmful situation.

Then, it struck Quatre that he was wasting time thinking instead of doing. He nearly tripped over the chair while launching himself out of it, and ran towards the kitchen for his coat. Then he stopped, thinking he'd better let someone know where he was going, and did a u-turn, heading for the the butler's pantry instead. A third thought reminded him sharply that the butler was in another country, and he performed a second, equally-brilliant about-face and ran back to the kitchen to find Duo, the second-in-command.

He couldn't find him. Quatre's choices were limited; he wasn't sure if he could afford the time it would take to search the whole house, so he decided to split the difference and leave a note. He was just shuffling through the junk drawer for something to write with when Hilde wandered in. "Hey! Who was that on the telephone?" she asked brightly, zipping straight to the cupboard for a snack.

Quatre's mouth went slightly dry, but he managed to look up. "Um...just somebody selling something...I told them we didn't want any of...whatever it was."

"Mm, don't tell Duo, he'll think you've passed up a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."

"Heh..." One short, nervous laugh later, Quatre gave up the idea of a note. "Hilde...could you give Duo a message for me?"

"Sure! You going out for the afternoon?"

The boy froze for a moment. All his dealings with Dorothy were meant to be a secret; there was no point in making them known until he had some positive results to report. On the other hand, he didn't want to lie to anyone either. There had to be a reasonable balance. "Tell him...tell him I've got to leave the house for awhile. I don't want anyone to worry about me, but it's sort of a secret, and I'm not sure when I'll be back."

Hilde replaced the lid of the cookie jar and took a bite of whatever she had fished out of it. "Sounds serious," she mumbled.

"It is, a bit," Quatre replied. "But it's nothing to be concerned about! I'll be home as soon as I can, and I don't want anyone fretting over me in the meantime, okay?"

"Whatever you say," the housemaid giggled, patting his arm. "I gotta go, I'm in the middle of a bridge game. Dress warm!" She hopped back up the stairs, disappeared, and that was that.

Quatre spent a few seconds gazing at the stairs, then grabbed his coat and ran.

**********  
  


Fortune smiled slightly on the trio as they crossed into the desert. Some cloud cover rolled in over the mountains and the temperature dropped just enough to make the long walk a comfortable one. Unfortunately, it wasn't nearly as comfortable for Lucrezia atop the camel. A horse, she would have been used to, but instead of the familiar back-and-forth motion she was expecting, the camel's gait rolled her from side to side, making it a challenge to keep from falling off. She finally gained some stability by reaching backwards with both feet and hooking them tightly around the ropes holding the suitcases aloft. It was tiring, but it worked.

Heero and Trowa were much too busy navigating to notice. The directions to the meeting place seemed concrete enough on paper, but used many natural landmarks as guides along the way, and it wasn't as though they had brightly painted signs on them. The difference between clumps of bushes, stands of trees, this rock or that rock could have thrown them miles in the wrong direction.

The route seemed to take them away from the little villages scribbled onto the fourth-hand map, some of which might have relocated by then anyway, so they didn't encounter a single soul apart from themselves for a long time. Then, out of the distance at an angle veering off towards the mountains came a dot, then a blob, then a mass of men on horseback, more than two, but less than six. They couldn't have come from the meeting place, but upon spotting the travellers on the horizon, they altered course to intercept. Heero and Trowa conversed quickly over whether or not the group might be a threat, but then Quatre had told them that they could be easily met by traders or nomads no matter how far from the beaten path they strayed. They decided to stop and see what the men wanted.

Four men in total drew their horses up beside the trio, and two of them dismounted right away, presenting themselves with rapid-fire greetings. They were dressed similarly to the boys, but their garments showed much more wear and tear. They also had a minimum of a moustache each, and two had beards. One of the dismounted men pulled up the sleeves of his robe to reveal dozens of strands of beads, which he held out before the boys, rattling off prices in Arabic and hoping for a good haggle. The other opened a pouch full of miscellaneous trinkets and took a large bundle of leather goods off his horse's pack, showing what fine merchandise he had to sell. They were both chattering at once, getting right up in the boys' faces, and Lucrezia was having a good chuckle at their expense, until she saw the other two on horseback, looking in her direction and whispering amongst themselves. Then she started to worry.

"No...no, really...we don't want..." Trowa had both hands in the air and was trying to discourage the leather-vendor, but without much success. "Heero, how do we tell them to go away?"

Heero was actually having a good look at what was for sale. "Didn't Quatre teach you how to say anything?"

"I know how to say 'Hello', 'Goodbye', 'Where's the toilet', and that's _it_," Trowa shot back. "I'm serious! Tell them to scram!"

"Just a minute," Heero said, waving the boy off. "I promised Duo I'd bring him back a souvenir." The beads and baubles were nice, but the men also had a fine variety of leather belts with fancy patterns and shiny brass buckles. Heero picked out one he thought would look good with Duo's denims, and tried haggling for it in his fractured French.

Meanwhile, the two mounted men were still talking back and forth, gazing around Lucrezia and stroking their beards in thought. She squirmed. "Uh...guys?"

"Don't even bother, he's going to be awhile," Trowa told her without really stopping to listen to her tone of voice.

In only a few moments, however, Heero and the lead trader had come to an agreement over the belt, and the transaction was completed, but the traders weren't done talking yet. The two on horseback chattered to the men on the ground, and all four of them looked in Lucrezia's direction. Heero and Trowa followed their gaze in confusion, and then the lead trader started back into French, gathering up a large handful of beads and the pouch of trinkets and pointing at the woman with them. They appeared to be making an offer on _Heero's_ merchandise.

"_Guys_," Lucrezia said, a little louder.

Heero squinted at the unusual turn the conversation had taken. "I think they'll have to do better than that," he remarked to Trowa, and the two of them exchanged a quick whisper.

Again, the man made his offer, adding another handful of beads at witnessing Heero's reluctance. Desperate to be heard, Lucrezia reached out as far as she dared to try and catch Heero by the scruff of the neck, but couldn't reach, and nearly tipped over from the effort. "What's he saying!?"

Trowa just looked like he didn't want to be involved and squeezed over to the side, and Heero tried to tell the men 'no', but the offer kept getting better and better. They added a pouch of coins to the deal.

Lucrezia all but tried to jump off the camel and run, but her feet were firmly entangled in the ropes. "Heero!" she hollered angrily.

"Quiet! I'm negotiating!"

"...if I could kick you, I would."

Heero honestly did tell the men they were wasting their breath, several times, but it got stickier when one of the men on horseback yelled out in heavily-accented English, "I throw in many goats! And field to put them in!"

Heero looked up at Lucrezia again. She hated the way he seemed to be considering the deal, and just to tease her further, he beckoned Trowa over and crossed his arms thoughtfully. "What do you think?"

Trowa pretended to mull it over. "I'd hold out for sheep. We could get a good price for the wool, I'll bet."

Atop the camel, the woman fumed. "When I get ahold of you two--"

Heero cut her off in mid-protest, turning back to the traders and suggesting a price so high that they could never have dreamed of meeting it. After that, they appeared to lose interest, and the meeting more or less dissolved, but before the men could gallop away, Heero showed them the map and pointed out the route they were taking, asking if they knew anything about it. They gladly described a bit of a shortcut that would shave almost an hour off their journey. Heero thanked them, and they rode off happy to have made a sale.

Once they were gone, Lucrezia yanked off her head scarf so she could yell at the boys properly. "_What_ is the _matter_ with you!?" she screeched.

Heero found pockets somewhere in his layered clothes, sank both hands into them, and shrugged innocently. "I didn't think you'd be interested in my little business transactions," he said, and at the pinnacle of her frustration, he decided to be nice and let her in on the big secret, smirking shamelessly. "Besides...they didn't want you. They wanted Lord Peacecraft's Italian luggage."

The boys took a few steps away from the camel, snickering to each other. Lucrezia reached to her left, snapped open one of the fine imported cases, grabbed a rolled-up pair of somebody's socks, and whipped them at Heero's head, where they connected with a well-aimed 'thunk'. There were chuckles and whatnot, and a rare display of Heero having an honest laugh on his own time. He and Trowa had never made an effort to get to know each other outside work, but this trip was actually helping, even if it was a little bit at Lucrezia's expense.

Once they all settled down, the trio followed the shortcut laid out by the traders, and instead of arriving after dark, the sun was still dancing on the horizon as they scaled what would be the last hill. By then, they were tired and travel-weary, dragging themselves up the dusty slope peppered with scrub brush with heavy, plodding steps. Heero was the first one to reach the summit, and he stopped at the top, staring. Trowa tugged on the camel's rope, practically dragging her up the hills, and at the top, he paused also. The camel stopped short of the summit, but Lucrezia was sitting high enough to see what the boys were seeing, and they all gaped at what lay before them.

The ground fell away from the hill into a broad, sweeping valley, surrounded on all sides by more hills of varying heights, sheltered from wind and weather. In the centre of the valley, made out of great stones that showed hundreds of years of defiance against the elements, was a hulking citadel, fortified and well-guarded. Handfuls of men patrolled the perimeter, some lighting torches along the rock walls as the structure fell deeper into shadow. The greater ado was inside the fortress, where firelight seeped out of hand-carved windows, and where the buzz of a thousand voices rose up above the sands and drifted up to the travellers invitingly.

Scattered around the rim of the containing hills were ramps and steps that allowed people, animals, and carts in and out of the valley, and Heero led the way to the nearest of these, continually glancing back at the glowing citadel, bathed in the final moments of red sunlight from the midline upwards. The trio carefully made their way down the curved ramp and hiked up to the first entrance that they came across, and were only casually stopped by the guards. Heero gave them the password from Byron's record, and they were let in without any fuss at all, not even the simple task of asking their names. The trio counted themselves lucky and ventured inwards, while at the gate, one guard whispered to another, who left to deliver a message to someone about the latecomers.

The interior of the citadel was a cause for infinite awe. Hundreds of travellers from all over the world, representing four of the five members of the Cinq Association, had gathered in the miniature enclosed city, setting up campsites anywhere they could and settling in for their evening meal. Dozens of languages were spoken, hundreds of views exchanged, and Heero would have found the gathering fascinating if not for one key detail--these people were agents.

They were approached by a dark-skinned man wearing colourful garments with beaded embroidery, carrying a book and a pencil. Following procedure, he asked the boys the same question over and over in rotating languages until he hit on the right one. "What delegation are you, please?"

Heero had only seconds to think. Everyone else was there for a reason, and had been properly briefed on what to expect and what answers to give, but he took a wild guess at interpretation and blurted out "Jeffrhyss" before he could think about whether or not it was a good idea.

"Through the square, east wall, blue section," the man said, pointing through a gaping archway with his pencil and moving on, adding three tick marks to the tally for blue section's head count. The trio shrugged at each other and moved on.

It soon became impractical to be dragging the camel around, so Lucrezia dismounted rather ungracefully and removed her veil, as there were a number of other unveiled women lingering around. Trowa took the reins and looked for a suitable place to tether the animal, while the others looked around 'blue section.' "They don't seem to be very well organized," Lucrezia remarked, glancing at the simple coloured handkerchiefs on poles sticking up out of the ground that marked off the various camps.

"That's because most of these people have been to one of these meetings before," Heero supplied. "Any new agents would have to be accompanied by older ones to learn the procedure, but the majority know their way around, no matter where the meeting is held."

Lucrezia blinked at the floor, then at Heero. "Is this your first?"

Heero nodded, looking away.

"So, basically, we just watch what everyone else does?"

"Basically."

There would have to be an announcement, or an audible signal, some sort of non-lingual call for the meeting to begin, but neither of them knew what it would be. When Trowa returned, Heero left them for awhile to wander on his own. There were no guards inside the fortress, no way to stop someone from one camp from wandering around the others. He took a good long stroll around the facility and saw details that suggested it was more than just a castle in the sand. There were tapestries and emblems on the walls, and in several of the rooms, discoloured patches of floor indicated where tables and chairs had stood until recently. The whole place was laid out like a private residence for a local millionaire, complete with its own water source, private gardens in a central courtyard, and even small corridors fit for servants. It reminded him of Bridlewood, which opened up the possibility that the citadel had been rented from the owner just long enough to hold the fiscal meeting. This method offered all of the creature comforts and none of the permanence that could lead to a police raid. It was somewhat ingenious.

Then, while he was still half-mired in his reverie, a flash of gold caught Heero's eye, in the gaps of an ordinary-looking crowd. It wasn't just a blur of colour, it was familiar. He knew it well. Ducking back and forth between travellers zig-zagging across the open square, he tried to get closer, to see what it was, but the golden blur did not reappear. It had been like strands of silk, swaying as a single unit, possibly a woman's crown of hair, but since he couldn't find it again, and since there were more pressing problems at hand, Heero dismissed it as a fluke of having so many people from around the world in one place.

**********  
  


It was pouring with rain the entire time Quatre was running from street to street on his way to Lady Une's. He had a few coins in his pocket that would have gotten him a cab, but they were even scarcer in the rain than they were at any other time in that neighbourhood, so he decided he was further ahead just to hoof it. By the time he reached the right avenue, he was drenched straight through, and oddly enough, the rain slowed to a light drizzle just as he was approaching the house. There was no visible activity in any of the windows, and no lights appeared to be on, inside or out. The front gate was open, and he crept easily past it, still keeping an eye on the house in case a servant leapt out to shoo him away. Nobody stopped him from tip-toeing around to the side of the house, where the woodshed perched near the back of the imposing building. The promised door was right there, propped open with an empty cigarette box. Quatre edged it open with a squeak and slipped inside.

He found himself in an area reserved for servants, naturally, as someone of his lowly status would hardly have been let in through the front door under any circumstances. He didn't have long to wait before gentle footsteps crept close from around the corner, and a platinum blonde head poked out of the dark, quivering. "I wasn't sure if you'd actually come," the girl whispered nervously.

Quatre wondered the same thing as he wrung out patches of his clothing on the mat. "Well...I'm here now. Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

Dorothy, stepped away a bit, towards the interior of the mansion, and looked back over her shoulder coyly. "It would be simpler to show you." More than a little preoccupied with not dripping all over the floors and carpets, Quatre left his shoes near the door and followed Dorothy at a distance. She was walking very quickly, and it was actually difficult to keep up as she wove up and down the marbled halls to a long, spiralling staircase. "Up here," she whispered. "Most of the servants have the day off today, the rest are in the games room at the other end of the house."

The staircase was like nothing at Bridlewood, and it made Quatre a little nervous. It was located in the middle of a tiled hall with six doors leading to other areas of the house, and swirled upwards at a very tight radius. There was only room for one person to ascend or descend at a time, and it hardly looked like it could support more than two people anyway. The whole thing was made of decorative iron in patterns of swans and leaves that gave it a light, airy appearance. It also squeaked and creaked with every step Quatre took, and his eyes became riveted to the floor as he seemed to feel the whole structure lean towards the side on which he stood. Somehow, Dorothy was able to pad lightly up the staircase without making a sound, and she was already waiting for him at the top.

"Come on!" she hissed, leaning over the top railing.

Quatre looked up, looked down, felt dizzy, but kept going. Something was itching at the back of his mind, trying anxiously to tell him that he wasn't being very smart, but the immediate concern for whether or not the staircase was safe blocked out everything else. When he made it to the top, Dorothy had moved further away again, as if she was deliberately trying not to get too close. Suspicious, Quatre stopped to do an emotional spot-check, but he truly felt Dorothy's fear. There was nothing concrete to make him doubt that the danger was real.

The climb wasn't finished; Dorothy led him up two more smaller staircases, each seeming narrower and more precarious than the one before. When their ascent finally levelled off, they were in the attic, which was separated into a hallway with servants' quarters, or so it appeared. Quatre's mind raced, wondering what could be so horrible about an old, dusty attic. Could there be rats? A shrine to someone's dead wife? A disfigured child being isolated from the world? A centre for widespread blackmail of public officials? A torture chamber? There was no way to know except to look, and as soon as he assessed how dangerous it actually was, then he would decide whether to calm the girl down and tell her she was overreacting, or bring the police back and demand that they investigate.

Dorothy padded down the hall, stopping at the very end where a narrow wooden door with cracked, peeling paint marked the end of the trail. "It's in here," she whispered, turning the knob and giving the door a little push. It swung inwards with a lonely creak, revealing little other than dreadful darkness. "I can't stand to be in the same room with it anymore," she added, standing behind him and giving him a little prod to the shoulder. "...go on."

Through the door, there was faint blue-grey light from a tiny window, being pelted with rain. There didn't appear to be much in the room, only some furniture and a dark corner which could have concealed something frightening if one used one's imagination. By now, Quatre was awfully curious as to what the horrible, unspeakable evil could be, and he took a few steps into the room, glancing carefully around. When he was halfway to the window, he _did_ start to sense something was amiss, but there weren't enough clues to decide what it was. Then, he felt a twinge behind his right ear and tilted his head as if listening to a frequency only he could hear. Dorothy wasn't alone.

The facade of fear vanished, and a second presence joined the Baroness in a devious, silent chuckle of the mind. Quatre spun around and launched himself at the door, but it was too late. An arm yanked at the doorknob and slammed the wooden slab closed with a thunderous bang, followed quickly by the delicate clink of a key in the lock. "_No!!_" he hollered as he crashed into the door and struggled to reopen it.

Two feminine giggles seeped through the wall. "I don't know who else to turn to! _Please_ hurry!" Dorothy mocked.

"Brilliant acting, my dear!" the second voice congratulated. It was undoubtedly Lady Une.

"Why are you doing this!?" Quatre yelped, panicking and clawing at the edge of the door.

"Because you never once offered us anything we could actually _use_," Dorothy sneered.

"But now that we have _you_," Une added cattily, "we have a playing piece that could win us the tontine, if we make sure you're the last one standing. You'll make a _lovely_ wedding present for my darling Treize when he returns!"

"Bye bye, now! Dinner's at eight!"

The girls giggled once more and left. Quatre slid down the surface of the door, crumbling to the rug with a blank look as he was forced to contemplate several new realities. One was that his mysterious sixth sense was not infallible. Dorothy had tricked him on every level possible, whether she knew of them or not. Another was that he hadn't told anyone at the manor where he was going, or when he would be back, only that they shouldn't worry about him. If only he'd told Hilde that he intended to be home for dinner, then she and Duo would know something was wrong by the end of the day, but now...it could be days, or even weeks, before they knew he was in trouble, and even then they wouldn't know where to start looking. He squeezed his eyes shut, though he wanted very badly to just sit there and cry. Now he was a prisoner of war, the secret kind of war that had no battleground, had no borders, but was never short of casualities.

**********  
  


The message from Byron had included a specific time at which the meeting was supposed to begin. By Trowa's estimation from looking at the sky, standing in the citadel's courtyard, that time had come and gone. The travellers were all asking why the meeting had been delayed, but nobody had any clear answers, and still, neither Jeffrhyss nor any of his high-level contemporaries had showed their faces. The lower-level agents were scrambling for explanations that didn't exist.

Heero, Trowa and Lucrezia had isolated themselves somewhat, keeping to an unpopulated corner that might once have contained a heavy armoire, judging by the brown skidmarks on the scrubbed stone floor. They sat down on a suitcase apiece and propped themselves up against the wall, watching people scurry to and fro. Lucrezia picked at one of her longish fingernails and mumbled her thoughts out loud, for a lack of anything better to do. "I don't think they've ever done this before. I mean, not with this many people. I think the numbers grew out of proportion because everyone wants to see who'll replace Giorgenson."

"A valid theory," said Heero.

"...do you think he's really dead?"

Duo had asked the same question shortly before Heero left, and he didn't have an answer then either. Knowing the mild attachment Duo felt towards the kindly old man made it difficult to admit that Cinq wouldn't be going through all this trouble if he wasn't really gone. It seemed that Lucrezia felt the same way. "There's no way to tell," he bluffed.

"If he's alive," Trowa interjected, "I hope he's having a good laugh at us all, sitting out here in the middle of nowhere like a tribe of idiots."

Heero smirked briefly, then looked serious again as progress appeared to be made before his eyes. The native African in the colourful clothes had a group of agents congregated around him, and was doling out a message in different languages, as before. The trio got up, grabbed their luggage and went to join the crowd, and before long, the English interpretation came ringing through. "The meeting is delayed," the man said in his musical accent, holding up his book and pencil as if they could protect him from the anger of the crowd. "Master Okada has not yet arrived, and is not expected for several days. You will all be given quarters here, and there is ample food and water for all." Then he said the same speech in German.

Everyone who heard it and understood it sighed physically and turned away, plodding off into their own corners to confer with their superiors; the trio were no different, except they had no superiors to report to. They were all apparently stuck there for the duration, however long and dull it turned out to be."What should we do now?" sighed Lucrezia.

Heero made a grim visual sweep of the crowded hall and judged that some of the hopefuls waiting to make their entry bids to the Association were crowding the poor messenger, demanding an exact time of arrival so they could get on with their presentations. Among them, paying no attention to anyone else in the room and therefore not noticing Heero's stare, was none other than the imposing figure of Count Khushrenada. Heero glared and led his team away. "We stay out of sight and sleep in shifts."

  
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_Next, in Episode Seventy-Six: When all the chess pieces are moved into place, the Cinq Association readies itself to evaluate candidates to take over Giorgenson's position. Heero and the others watch carefully from the shadows, but won't stay there for long when they see who's **really** in the running._

How's everybody doing? =^_^= I'm doing better, as evidenced by the remarkable happenstance of actually getting this episode out on time! Now get this. Episode 76 will be out (oh boy, what am I getting myself into?) _this Saturday!_ =@_@= Well, come on, I can't leave them out there in the desert for too long, they'll get mega-bored. :P You can bet I'm gonna be writing like the wind between now and then, and I really hope I can make it.


	76. The Assembly

**Disclaimer:** I know, from traipsing through every store, mall, and boutique in the Greater Toronto Area, that nobody has Gundam pilots for sale. I even offered to pay retail instead of the supposed sale price, but they still said no. Therefore, I cannot possibly own these magnificent examples of manhood, or the chicks they hang out with. Do not sue me. I have no money except that miniscule amount reserved for presents.

**Additional Disclaimer:** This episode refers to a factual historical event, but also makes certain assumptions that are not substantiated in the real world. It's called artistic licence. Don't yell at me.

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Episode Seventy-Six: The Assembly

_"Seest thou a man wise in his own conceit? There is more hope of a fool than of him." ~Proverbs, 26:12 _

March 16th, 1903

To the surprise of some, having hundreds of people essentially trapped in a desert fortress did not cause widespread panic. When it became apparent to all concerned that they were going to have to make the best of it, that was precisely what they did. It was somewhat crowded, but everyone had at least an undisturbed rectangle of floor on which to sleep. The trio ended up sharing a servant's room, in the absence of the servant of course, with four other men, who graciously agreed to give Lucrezia the only bed in the room. With both Treize and Lord Jeffrhyss creeping around the place, however, Heero didn't get much sleep, and spent most of each night sitting propped up against a stone wall where he could see both the door and the window, and stop any intruder cold. He wouldn't have slept anyway...not without Duo.

Every morning at six, there was a strange kind of trumpet call, on an instrument none of the trio could place in their mental encyclopaedias of music. Meals were doled out in cafeteria fashion, and none of the really important people stood in line for it; they sent their servants to collect four, five, even six plates of food at a time, thereby slowing everything down for the commoners. Since there was nothing to do in the interim, decks of cards were sold at a premium, and some of the guests even organized a small penuchle tournament to pass the time. However, it was starting to feel like the missing member of Cinq would never arrive, and that they would be trapped there for weeks; no amount of card games would keep them all there indefinitely, and indeed, some agents of lesser importance left to attend to other duties.

Then, late in the morning of the sixth day, the final delegation arrived with more than enough personnel to occupy the vacant spots left by everyone else's missing men. Master Okada, an imposing, bald-headed figure on a horse with ostentatious armour and swords hanging off him, led a procession of agents and troops down one of the earthen ramps leading into the valley, and marched them straight into the citadel a little before noon. Hundreds of agents gathered on the parapets to watch, Heero included. It seemed a reasonable guess that Okada was the first member of Cinq to employ Wufei, and also the one who found him an inadequate worker and sold his contract to Jeffrhyss at a fraction of what it was worth. Guessing also that the meeting could begin as soon as Okada and his workers were settled, Heero returned to his friends with a news update, and they prepared themselves. Luggage would have to be left in the little room while the meeting was in progress, so anything they didn't want stolen, they secured to their dusty clothes with twine.

Very little happened until after lunch, when word quickly spread through the various camps that the meeting was about to begin. Column upon column of unbathed masses filed out of their dark corners and followed a handful of organizers in brightly-coloured clothes, being led through winding passageways, down stone steps, and finally into a large underground arena, lit by strategically-placed torches and pleasantly cool. The hum of voices filled the acoustically-correct meeting hall as people grabbed seats anywhere they could within their designated sections. There was a sunken arena floor with a rounded raised platform in the middle, with some seating, two podiums, tables carrying plentiful gas lanterns where people could supposedly place important documents, and all around were stairwells with iron handrails leading up through the gallery seating and out to the upper levels. The seating was divided into five sections marked off by the same coloured rags as were used up above, and each section filled up quickly with agents.

The only exception was the section that would have been reserved for Professor Giorgenson's mob. Instead, the hopefuls vying to take over his position sat there, filling up the front rows first and so on back. Heero and the others chose this section to haunt; they sat way at the back where it was darkest, and where they would have the best view of the people coming and going.

It was a good half hour before things settled down enough for the guests of honour to enter the forum. Down the emptied stairwells, surrounded by guards and agents, came the four key members, and they each were guided to special box seating in the middle of their pertinent section. Lord Jeffrhyss was easily recognizable to Heero and Lucrezia, in his dark, raggedy clothes, shadowy spectacles, and straw-like grey hair. Trowa spotted a tallish man with scraggly hair and a kerchief tied over the lower half of his sunken face and got a bit of a chill. Had Quatre been there, he would have known the fat, moustached Hassan, and the bald one that was most likely Okada, Wufei would have given some sour looks to. They all took their seats, at which point Heero noticed that Byron was located on Jeffrhyss' right hand. He reached across Lucrezia's lap to poke Trowa, then pointed it out to him, and the boy nodded in recognition.

There was an entrance at the arena level like one would use if one were a gladiator entering the ring with a hungry lion. Out of this entrance walked a dignified, balding man in a very smart suit, seemingly too smart to have been in the dusty desert for any length of time, carrying an attaché case in one hand and a strong box in the other. He was rather familiar, and after a few minutes and a quick conference, the trio decided he was the same man they saw at the coronation of Kind Edward. He had carried a little jewelled treasure chest on that day, and Giorgenson had given him a key which was placed inside. The strong box he carried now was slightly bigger than the treasure chest, which was a hint that it could have been sealed inside. The balding man took a position at one of the podiums on the raised arena floor and set the strong box on the ground, then opened his case and took out some papers, preparing to speak to the assembly.

Lucrezia elbowed Trowa, holding an open pot of face cream. "Moisturizer?"

"Uh.....no thanks." He declined, but watched her make the same offer to Heero, then massage a fingertip-ful of the cream onto each of her cheeks after it was refused a second time. Then she closed up the jar, slipped it back into her pocket, slouched, and sighed. "Bored?" asked Trowa.

"Just wish they'd get on with it."

Her wish was quickly granted. The balding man cleared his throat, then demonstrated the fine acoustics of the room by speaking from the podium and being heard clearly all the way to the back. "Due to the delays we have already experienced," he said in a light, crisp accent verging on being British, "the existing members have already voted to dispense with the usual formalities and get straight to it. Please skip to page six in your agendas."

Everyone skipped to page six. Heero, Trowa and Lucrezia looked down at their empty hands, then up at each other, for they had no pages to skip. Apparently just getting directions to the place didn't mean they got the whole welcome package that everybody else got.

"The charter indicates that any business pertaining to the replacement of absent members takes precedence over the yearly tally, but also that voting for the next member cannot begin until the end of the meeting. Therefore we shall commence with the presentations of the contenders in alphabetical order." Following that, the balding man took out a very long list and announced the first of many delegation names. There were no less than fifty teams challenging for the position, and they all had to be heard. What followed was a long and tedious process whereby each candidate took the podium opposite the balding speaker of the house and answered questions that pointed to their suitability to become Giorgenson's successor. Factors such as finances, fixed assets, intelligence, influence, and past deeds of notability were investigated at length, well into the night. During the proceedings, people tended to waft in and out for food or a bathroom break, but the four kings stayed put, listening. Their votes would eventually determine who played their game, and concentration was key.

Trowa was falling asleep by the time Treize took the podium, and Lucrezia elbowed him sharply. The Count was looking splendid in a red military-style long-tailed jacket with shiny brass buttons and gold braiding here and there. Pristine white riding pants and tall black boots made the ensemble even more imposing, and the white gloves were the perfect finishing touch. He had a few toadies with him, shuffling papers around and just generally looking subservient, and one appeared to be there solely for the purpose of making sure the Count's ceremonial sword and scabbard were hanging straight off the shoulder strap. "Allow me to express my sincerest gratitude at being able to add my voice to those of these other esteemed guests. I am truly honoured to stand in your presence."

_Bootlick,_ Heero mocked mentally. _Oily as ever._

"Yes...quite." The balding man merely took out a blank form and filled in a few notes on it, under Treize's name. "We have all seen your financial statement...we couldn't _help_ seeing it, the way it mysteriously appeared on most everyone's breakfast tray three days ago..." A tittering chuckle ran through the crowd. Perhaps it paid to advertise. "...now, perhaps you'd care to tell us what _else_ you bring to the table besides castles and Swiss bank accounts."

"Certainly," Treize agreed smoothly, grasping the podium authoritatively with both hands. "I believe in the force of pure _will_. If something you want to happen isn't happening, you don't want it badly enough. I believe that a strong enough will can create minute psychokinetic eddies in the surrounding energy field, and those waves spread throughout creation, becoming larger and more influential as they travel, and changing the universe to your benefit."

".....out...of his freaking...mind," Lucrezia said, slowly and quietly.

"And what feats have you accomplished to demonstrate this...power of yours?" the balding man asked, unconvinced.

The trio soon decided that he shouldn't have asked. Treize launched into a lengthy lecture about his history of crime, the banks he had robbed, the noblemen he had toppled, the businessmen he had put out of business, and the murders he had orchestrated, all without taking one sip of the water provided. It sounded very well rehearsed, but he undoubtedly would have liked to add procurement of the Peacecraft fortune to his list of mighty deeds. Trowa nearly fell asleep a second time, it took so long, and the balding man's stenographers had quite a task keeping up.

Eventually, the interview ended and Treize sat down with his entourage. Then several more candidates took the podium and made their own speeches, though few people could even reach the bar after the Count raised it. He sat very smugly near the front of his section, arms folded and legs crossed casually as a long stream of unworthy opponents trudged back and forth in front of him. The Count actually began buffing his nails on his lapel, thinking he had the position all wrapped up, until the balding man went down the checklist and asked for a candidate nobody expected. "Peacecraft!"

Treize shot straight up in his chair, with enormous eyes. So did Heero, Lucrezia, and Trowa, who was suddenly wide awake. They were the only members of the audience who gaped as a tall, slender man with a long mane of platinum blond hair and a khaki uniform of the British army stood up in the middle of the section and made his way down to the arena floor. It was Milliardo, and he had with him a single assistant, a woman draped in pale tan cloth, veiled and unrecognizable. She carried all of Milliardo's papers for him, which was a pitifully small bundle compared to what other teams had carted down. The pair stepped off the stairs and separated, the woman taking a seat and the man going to the podium. Lucrezia bit her lip and held her breath for awhile; this was a most unexpected turn of events.

"We have very little documentation on you, Mister Peacecraft," the balding man said matter-of-factly. "In fact, if your application had been received only a few hours later than it was, you wouldn't have been granted an audience at all. Do you intend to make a habit of thumbing your nose at the rules?"

"No indeed, sir," Milliardo said in his wispy baritone, being as polite and deferential as he could.

"Very well...perhaps you'd care to begin by listing your accomplishments to date," the balding man said, and he uncapped a fresh pot of ink in which to dip his pen and write out notes of his own.

Milliardo folded his hands on the podium and held his head up proudly. ".....none, sir."

The crowd rumbled disapprovingly, and the balding man leaned forward, as if he didn't hear the man quite right. "None at all?"

"I beg your understanding, sir," said the young soldier. "I've listened very carefully to everything that's been said, but unlike the rest of my colleagues here, I have also pored over the charter seeking clues as to what motivates the existing members in their quest."

"Oh?" the balding man hooted, sounding only mildly interested. "And what have you discovered?"

"That the esteemed members enjoy challenging surprises, above all else. They have lived long and seen much, and because of that, a good mystery is hard to come by." Milliardo made a sweeping gesture with one hand, pointing to all the others who had made their presentations before him. "Everyone else here has already tipped their hand. Now we all know exactly what they are capable of, and it will be much more difficult for any of them to surprise you...whereas I am a complete mystery to all. In my humble opinion, the game would be more entertaining if a wild card was introduced."

The murmurs of the crowd suggested that most people found the concept intriguing, but it wasn't necessarily indicative of how the four leaders would vote on Milliardo's suitability. "I see," said the balding man. "I also notice, from your application, that you yourself are not the leader of your delegation. You seem to take this air of mystery to extraordinary lengths, if I may say so."

"The person from whom I take my orders presently wishes to remain anonymous," said young Master Peacecraft. "I found nothing in the charter to indicate that this is against the rules...correct me if I'm wrong."

The balding man lifted his eyebrows as he looked down in thought. "This is permitted." He then allowed Milliardo a few minutes to address the assembly, just like everyone else, and the young man proceeded to make a brief speech about the merits of facing the unknown with a brave face. Afterwards, he and the veiled woman climbed back up into the stands and took their original seats, while other delegations stepped forward, one after another.

While the presentations continued, the trio huddled together for an emergency conference. "What do you make of it?" Trowa asked in a whisper. "Who do you think he's working for?"

"I'm not sure," said Heero. "At the moment, I'm more worried about who that woman is." They all looked down at the veiled figure, and to their surprise, at that very moment she turned around in her chair and looked directly back at them, somehow able to pick them out of the dimly lit back row.

Lucrezia's mouth hung open for a moment, and she shook her head. "He wouldn't..."

"I think he did." They sized the woman up from top to bottom, and she looked to be exactly Relena's size; not only that, but there was a larger blob sitting next to her now, and it looked an awful lot like Otto. It was insane enough seeing a Peacecraft in such a den of villains in the first place, but bringing his sister and house steward along would have certainly qualified him for a one-way ticket to the looney bin. Still, there was no proof of who the girl was, or even if it was a girl at all. For now, it was just a short blob dressed like a girl, with nothing showing except a pair of eyes. The blob eventually turned back around and settled back in 'her' chair, but at the back row, the debate continued.

Once the presentations by the Cinq hopefuls were concluded, the agenda pointed to the larger matter, that of who would walk away with the honours for 1902. It was the balding man's duty to listen to accounts of their deeds and decide which camp had made the greatest impact on the world in the past year. Lord Jeffrhyss, as last year's winner, would list his accomplishments last, and so the other three each made a lengthy speech in alphabetical order, assisted by their top agents. One after another, they recounted even more fanciful tales about hijacked ships, rigged stock exchanges, kidnappings for outrageous ransoms...things that one needed a vast network of spies to accomplish. Each leader conducted their business from within their private box seating, eliminating the need for them to travel down to the minor players' podium, and the meeting dragged on for another two hours at least. Then it was Lord Jeffrhyss' turn. He stood and pontificated about all the fantastic things he had done, the vast majority of which Heero knew nothing about. It was somewhat unsettling, being out of the loop for so long, but the boy reminded himself that he really didn't want to consort with these people anyway, and it felt better.

As Jeffrhyss wrapped up his presentation, which read like a five-inch-thick mystery novel, he adjusted his dark spectacles with his hook and gave a nod to his colleagues. "My opponents have made stunning efforts to best me once again, but this year's prize is to be mine and no one else's," he announced with his usual self-assuredness. "I shall turn the presentation over to my assistant, who will fill you in on the details of my triumph. May I congratulate you all on a fine effort once again...first class all the way."

In the back row, Heero twitched unpleasantly. He used to say that all the time, but he never recalled hearing his master say it in all their years together.

As Jeffrhyss sat down and the fair-haired youth next to him stood up, many people in the arena thought this was rather odd. When it was certain to him that victory was around the corner, His Lordship delighted in delivering the death blow himself, so no one could fathom why he would be passing the honour down to one of his agents. Nevertheless, Byron stood and arranged two or three pieces of paper in his hands, poised to make the grand presentation himself. "Ladies and gentlemen," he commenced regally, "in the past year, Lord Jeffrhyss assigned me to a small island in the Caribbean called Martinique, after receiving a tip from one of our lesser informants on holiday.

"This informant, who has since been promoted since his brilliant display of ingenuity, developed connections in various public offices and relayed information back to His Lordship virtually as soon as it became available. In early April of last year, a mountain on this island called 'Pelée' began to emit steam from its summit. Weeks later, shortly after my arrival on the 23rd of April, there were significant ground tremors, followed by rains of ash and pumice stone. By this point, the local authorities were quite concerned and were actually considering evacuation when the ash showers became continuous, something that hadn't occurred on such a scale in two hundred years of their history.

"And then," Byron said with his most fiendish grin, "they met _me_. Acting on His Lordship's instructions, I presented myself as a prominent student of geology and volcanology, looked over the evidence, and gave them the benefit of my advice. I told them that there was virtually no danger associated with the tremors and such."

Heero blinked, looking down quickly. He recalled skimming over something about this in the newspaper, but it was so many months ago that he wasn't at all sure what it was. It had been right about the time that Duo's adoptive parents had crashed town, though, so he'd had more pressing things on his mind.

"Lord Jeffrhyss saw a tremendous opportunity to win this contest in one mighty blow, and telegrams flew between us like lightning bolts getting the job done. With the informant's assistance, I personally suppressed reports, destroyed documents, bribed whomever required bribery and eliminated whatever resistance remained, by lethal means in the most severe cases. On May seventh, the mountain awoke with a roar and spewed a massive black cloud into the sky overhead. At this point, my assistant and I decided we had risked our own safety long enough, and fled to Trinidad, another island to the south. The next morning, Pelée erupted." The crowd began to murmur, and the trio stiffened with dread. Byron seemed sickeningly proud of himself as he recounted the story, and the way he punctuated it with catlike sneers gave Heero an awful chill.

"As proof!" Byron shouted over the growing noise of the crowd, holding the papers in his hand high above his head. "As proof, I have brought to you some of the very documents that passed back and forth between officials on the island, or would have, if not for my interference. His Lordship contends that because of our actions, the vital evacuation did not take place as planned, and as a result, when Pelée erupted on the 8th of May, the town of St. Pierre and it's twenty-nine thousand residents were quickly eliminated!"

The audience itself erupted next. The noises they made, however, were filled with awe and admiration instead of the horror felt by the trio. Most of Lord Jeffrhyss' section actually burst into cheers for their leader, knowing that they had most assuredly won. At the back row of the arena, though, it was a different story. Twenty-nine thousand people. Trowa involuntarily grasped Lucrezia's near hand where it rested on her knee, and Lucrezia grasped Heero's hand and pulled it to her, and Heero squeezed that hand without even knowing it. Twenty-nine thousand people. They could have lived if they had known enough to flee. They would have known if not for Jeffrhyss, and especially Byron, and they seemed proud of it. Twenty-nine thousand. It was unfathomable.

The balding man pulled a little gavel out of his podium and banged it a few times, and the crowd calmed themselves. He looked down at his paperwork and shrugged with his eyebrows, surprised, and perhaps less than approving of the feat, but it wasn't his place to pass that sort of judgement. His task was merely to determine which of the four had made the greatest impact on the world and declare them the winner. "Well...I think you'll all agree that this is a feat of unprecedented gravity...and that no one else has even come close. Lord Jeffrhyss, as always, has a strange sort of luck following him about, and it has served him well."

The winner had been declared, and there was only a small ceremony of congratulations left before the meeting could move on to the next segment in the agenda, but Heero suddenly couldn't stand to watch. He was feeling a little light-headed. "I need some air," he muttered to Lucrezia, and before he could see the worried look on her face, he was up and out of his seat, down the aisle and out the door. She and Trowa muttered back and forth about what sort of an effect the day was having on him, and confessed to each other that they both felt a bit ill themselves, all while the title-conferring ceremony went ignored. Jeffrhyss didn't even stand up to receive the adulation of the crowd, and the whole production that the town of St. Pierre had died for was over and done with in a matter of seconds.

"Now then," the balding man continued once the applause had abated, "voting will commence for the first round of eliminations, as dictated by the charter. I will ask the leading representatives of each visiting delegation to stand, and four votes will be counted for each, yea or nay. In the event of a tie, the affected delegation _will_ proceed to the next round. Three 'nay' votes constitutes an elimination, and the affected delegation must leave forthwith..."

**********  
  


Heero staggered away from the great hall, feeling sick to his stomach. It finally hit home that he had wasted most of his life on a man who murdered innocent people for sport. Even more gut-wrenching was the thought that he followed that man willingly, blindly, though he never really had a choice in the matter. The sensation of physical sickness was added to by a bone-crushing guilt, as if plain horror wasn't enough; could he himself have been an active participant in the amusement killings without knowing it? Could some of his 'training exercises' have been real? Could he have been hunting down and capturing real targets instead of armoured instructors? Could he have been using live ammunition when they told him they were only blanks? Now that he really thought about it, in all those drills intended to desensitise him to killing, his instructors never specifically told him that it was all a simulation, and Heero never asked. He could have been a true murderer hundreds of times over.

He dragged himself up flight after flight of hand-carved stone steps until he reached the open courtyard. It was comfortably cool outside, a clear night with plenty of stars. Heero wandered around, gazing upward, and tried to breathe evenly while his rapid pulse slowed, until he stopped somewhere in the middle and lowered his face into his hands. Overhead, a nondescript bird flew by and let out a screech that made him jump about six inches, and his heart started to race again. The serenity broken, he rushed out of the courtyard and back into the covered areas of the citadel, almost trying to get lost there deliberately.

_My nerves are in shreds,_ he thought, and even his inner voice seemed to tremble with anguish. _Am I the only one? In the whole of the organization, is there no one else who can't stomach the thought of this sick game??_ He stopped in a small stone hallway lit by a torch, with one wall carved out in a gaping archway to the courtyard, and had a good look around; he was alone. _I guess not._

"Are you following me now?" a sweet but angry voice said behind him.

Heero whirled around in the corridor, again startled by sudden noise, and his flowing bone-white cloak swirled about his tense form, then settled. Both ends of the corridor were darkened, as the flaming torch was the only one in fifty feet or more of wall space, but a figure slowly stepped into the orange glow, a figure with the same long, golden hair that Heero had caught a glimpse of the day he arrived. She stopped, and let him register her presence for a moment, wearing a simple but feminine cotton dress of pale tan, so pale that she might have disappeared into the sand.

"...Relena..."

The girl seemed unimpressed with his powers of recognition. "Why are you here?"

Heero straightened up and drew on his internal calming resources to bring himself back under strict control. Moments earlier, he would have asked her the same question, but he was starting to understand more than she expected. He shrugged nonchalantly. "It's a free country, relatively speaking. I can take my vacation anywhere I like."

"You're not on vacation, you came here to spy on me!" Relena spat, stalking forward until she could have reached out and touched him.

That _really_ caused a traffic jam between the boy's ears. If anything, he would have expected it to be the other way around. The suspicion showed on his face. "You think _I'm_ here because _you're_ here?"

"Uncle Treize told me what you were up to," she snarled, "and I didn't believe him at first, but you seem to be making his case _for_ him with all your skulking about! Everything you've ever done in my house makes sense now. Right from the beginning, you saw a helpless girl and an inheritance up for grabs, if you could only get your foot in the door. Well, it's not going to work! My money is finally safe from prying hands like yours, and I've invested it in something _far_ more important than whatever slothful, self-indulgent use a gold-digger like you would have squandered it on!!"

Relena sounded so far out in left field that Heero would have needed a giant catapult to reach her. He shook his head. "You've lost me completely."

Before she could accuse him of trying to worm out of trouble by playing dumb, a strange noise interrupted them both, a hollow, wooden clomping that slowly crept up from out of the dark corridor behind where Heero stood. The echoing sound made the boy's throat constrict once he recognized it, and a moment later, a gravelly voice made his blood run cold for good measure. "Forgive this boy for not understanding you, my child," the gravelly old voice said to Relena. "He used to be a great deal more attentive than he is now."

Heero slowly turned around and stared at the intruder with enlarged eyes, stepping back twice as slowly, driven by the instinct to protect the weaker party, namely Relena. He gradually tried to block her from the sight of the man, but she leaned away, actively gazing at him in horror. She had heard him described, from the scraggly white-gray hair and dark spectacles down to the hook for a hand and the pair of worn wooden legs, and she had spotted him vaguely from across the ominous meeting hall, but nothing truly prepared her for the experience of seeing Lord Jeffrhyss in person.

The first attempt Heero made at audible speech didn't make it past his throat, as the presence of his former master still petrified him, no matter how much personal progress he made in other areas of life. The second attempt, however, just managed to croak through. "Leave us alone."

Jeffrhyss stepped a bit closer, the fingers of his good hand twitching atop his heavy cane. "Such insolence, when I haven't even said my piece yet."

"I don't want to hear anything _you've_ got to say," Heero growled, adding a brave edge to his voice. "Now, _please_...just go."

"Wait..." Relena slipped around to Heero's left side and glanced between the pair as they stared each other down. Here was the young cad she believed was trying to worm his way into her bank account, and here also was the acclaimed champion of Cinq's worldly dealings. Something was odd about the way they spoke. "You two..._know_ each other?"

"My child!" Jeffrhyss admonished her in a superior tone. "...we _are_ each other."

Suddenly, Heero felt sicker, and tried to take Relena's arm and scurry away from the man, but she savagely pinwheeled her arm out of his grip. "No!" she screeched at him. "What do you have to do with him!?"

Heero swallowed and actually shrank away from her furious gaze. If he'd had a choice, he wouldn't have let any of this happen, but it was years too late. "I'm sorry," he stammered softly.

If for no reason other than to punish him for his smart mouth, Jeffrhyss let Relena in on the boy's dirty little secret. "You've been cleverly duped, Miss Peacecraft," the old man began, almost delighting in the fright she displayed at hearing him speak her name. "He didn't find you by chance, I _sent_ him to you, to infiltrate your household, and the information he provided me with was _most_ invaluable."

Now Heero was looking shocked, and he leaned menacingly towards his master with an outstretched arm. "Now, _wait_ a minute..."

"He's the finest agent an organisation has ever seen, and must be greatly looking forward to re-assignment once his official leave is over." Jeffrhyss seemed to be deliberately padding Heero's batting average, just so Relena would hate him more.

The more the old man lauded his young charge, the more she scowled in disgust, so it must have been working. "What did you tell him about us?" she snarled, backing Heero up a few steps with an absolutely livid exterior. The longstanding invasion of her privacy was almost as bad as the possibility that he had been creeping around Sutherby House in secret, and reporting back on their plans to join Cinq. "What does he know!? What have you told him!? How could you do such a thing!?"

"Let this be a lesson, my child, if your brother is serious about joining us," Jeffrhyss went on. "You need quality staff to get results, and without this young man at my side, so many of our efforts would have been wasted--"

"Stop saying that!" Heero burst out angrily, turning immediately to Relena with pleading eyes. "I never told him _anything_ about you! I was after Treize right from day one! And I was _terrible_ at it!" He wheeled back on Jeffrhyss. "Why are you lying all of a sudden!? I was lazy, and easily distracted, I dragged my feet, I disobeyed orders...I was a _disaster_ at my job! A disappointment! You said so yourself! _Tell her_!"

Relena couldn't help being frightened at the display of temper, and she froze into complete silence, though her ears were quite open to the nuances flying about the corridor. Jeffrhyss was carefully studying Heero's reactions from behind his dark spectacles, proving that he never did anything without purpose. "Why? Why should I tell her? What is her opinion to you? She was nothing but a device to be used in the completion of your mission."

"So you just came out here to shame me, is that it?" Heero snapped haughtily after several seconds.

"You _cannot_ be shamed, and that is precisely my point!" Jeffrhyss barked back. "When Byron informed me of your intentions to attend this gathering, I hardly believed you had the gall to show your face. But remember that I am always of a forgiving nature, and if you have any self-respect as an agent remaining, it's not too late to return to the fold."

_So that's your game,_ Heero thought, glaring. _Prove how much I need you before offering me my job back._ He was being given a very quick choice, and it wasn't very difficult. There were numerous times when Relena hadn't treated him very well, but only because she was young and foolish, not purposefully cruel, and her innocence had slowly overridden his original programming with a notion of protecting her from harm. If he had any paternal instincts at all, they were telling him that it was more important to repair her hurt feelings than even acknowledge Jeffrhyss' offer, and so he tried. "Relena, listen to me..."

She indeed was suffering from hurt feelings, not just after being called a 'device', but from the utter rejection of herself as a woman. At least when she thought Heero was wooing her to bulk up his own wallet, there was the faintest glimmer of hope that he wanted to be with her, even if it was for a horrible reason. Being _ordered_ to court her, however, was something of an insult, and adding that to the realisation that Treize must have put the idea of a gigolo into her head on purpose, knowing that it would hurt her _twice_, made her want to fall through the floor and die. Nevertheless, she was willing to listen, if only a little, and lifted her head with glossy, tear-soaked eyes.

Seeing those eyes confirmed Heero's fear, but one vital thing Duo had taught him was that there was a great healing power in the truth, so perhaps they would both feel better in a moment. ".....alright...I _used_ you, I _admit_ it...I've been lying since I met you, and if today hadn't happened, odds are I'd _keep_ lying to you until the day I died, but.....no, forget that, there _is_ no justification. _Hate_ me if you need to, nothing I can say will stop you.....but you need to know this...that you were never dealing with _me_..." Without turning his head, his fire-lit eyes swerved to glare at Jeffrhyss. "...it was just a _machine_ that _looked_ like me."

This was perhaps the most animated emotion Relena had seen him display in a very long time, and it was quite compelling, despite having instructed herself for months that she no longer cared for him. Suddenly re-mesmerised by his energy, she didn't know whether to scream, cry, or even embrace him, and she felt more confused than ever. It froze her, and for awhile, she couldn't even breathe.

"Take a good look, Miss Peacecraft," Jeffrhyss rumbled as the youngsters stared at each other. "Tell your brother that _this_ is the kind of conniving mind he will have to contend with, in the hundreds and thousands. There are many more like this boy, not only in my care but in the care of my contemporaries. When functioning properly, they can outwit anyone, from heads of state to army generals. This one, after rehabilitation, will be sent to trail the personal assistant of a Danish prince, whom I suspect of--"

"Stop talking like I belong to you!" Heero snapped suddenly. "I don't belong to anyone anymore!"

Jeffrhyss was still as a statue for a few moments after the outburst, calculating. "The damage is even more extensive than I realised. I regret not having had time over the past year to effectively treat your sickness, but now that--"

"_No_," Heero's throat crackled out, backing up a few steps. He was having an unusually strong reaction to it all, probably exacerbated by lack of sleep, and Relena, seeing the obvious distress he was in, moved closer, reaching out to his arm with one shaking hand, but never quite making contact. The boy was beginning to tremble slightly, overcome by rage and panic. "I'm not coming back, so just...find someone else to be your puppet."

"You're confused...I understand that." The tone Jeffrhyss used was eerily sympathetic, but it did nothing to disguise his creeping advancement towards the boy. "Overexposure to common society is creating a conflict with your default programming, but my senior advisors tell me the damage is not irreparable. You _can_ come back."

"Are you _deaf_!? I said I'm not going _anywhere_ with you! All I want is to be left alone!"

"Then it was a grave tactical error on your part to come here at all, was it not?" Jeffrhyss scolded in a slightly more menacing tone. "You are already surrounded by my best and brightest agents, and if I decide to take you with me, it's not very likely that you could fight them _all_ off in your shattered condition. Besides...my advisors are all of the opinion that persuasion is pointless when there is an opportunity to take by force."

At the suggestion, however vague, of being carted back to Europe in shackles and brainwashed back into his old ways, Heero lost it. With his left arm, he shoved Relena strongly aside, and with a tiny squeal, she lurched backwards and collided with the edge of the giant archway, falling into a crouch. With his right hand, Heero instantaneously reached into his robes and drew his gun, aiming it shakily at Lord Jeffrhyss' head. He was pale and sweating, with a small but constant tremor flowing throughout his body, but his eyes remained fierce.

Jeffrhyss merely chuckled. "Little fool...do you think I would surround myself with dozens of armed agents and have no way to protect myself from unforeseen attacks? _None_ of my employees can harm me in any way. There are scores of psychological blocks in place against insurrection, so you can squeeze that trigger as hard as you like. It won't do you any good."

Terrified and infuriated, Heero tested the theory, clenching his hand around the weapon and expecting the ear-shattering snap of exploding gunpowder followed by the soft thump of a body hitting the floor, but his fingers would only contract so far. He could feel the cold, smooth metal trigger, but as long as his master was lined up with the sights of the weapon, he was unable to move it. Frustrated, he clamped his other hand on the gun and squeezed with both of them, but it was as if an iron shield had been erected around the steel claw, immobilizing it. His breath was escaping in short gasps, as it was taking all of his energy to exert pressure that had absolutely no effect.

Squatting by the archway, Relena had pulled herself together and was doing some quick thinking. She saw that Heero was a pawn at last, and saw the hidden anguish he had been beaten down with since long before they even met. Forgetting London, and Marcus, and everything else, she just wanted to throw her arms around Heero and say whatever she could to soothe his agony, but at that instant, she also saw a chance to score some major brownie points with Lord Jeffrhyss. After all, if her brother was to capture the coveted fifth seat in the circle, Jeffrhyss' vote would carry him a long way. As painful as it was to prolong Heero's ordeal just when she was becoming fascinated with him all over again, she dried her eyes, leapt up, and rushed straight in front of him, stepping directly in the line of fire. She looked him very calmly in the eye, partially blocking Jeffrhyss from view. "Heero...put it down."

Heero's eyes bulged. "What are you doing!? Get out of the way!"

"No. Whatever's gone on between you two, there must be a better way of resolving it than this." The girl hoped that Jeffrhyss was paying very close attention to the risk she was taking on his behalf, but she had no idea that the old man was quietly backing away, caring nothing for the gesture or the boring chatter that went with it.

"You don't understand," Heero rasped, the gun still quivering in his hands. "This has to end _now_." It wasn't just for his own sake, either; it had to be done for the good of humanity.

"It won't be the end of your troubles, it'll be the beginning of new ones! You think there won't be any consequences in a fortress full of this man's zealots? Do this, and you'll never make it out of here alive."

Inwardly, Heero fumed at the girl. He firmly believed he _could_ make it out alive, and protect his travelling companions as well, and who was _she_ to suggest otherwise? In his eyes, Relena had hardly done anything except obstruct the path to whatever he wanted in life, and she was doing it again. So enthralled with many kinds of rage was the boy that even he didn't notice that Lord Jeffrhyss was gradually slipping back into the dark abyss of the corridor.

Unknown to either one of them, the meeting had been officially ended, and the participants were beginning to trickle out of the great hall. Those with the heaviest agendas left first, as they had the most to do in the least amount of time, and among them were Milliardo and loyal Otto, who strode up the carved steps and towards their guest quarters carrying massive bundles of paper. Their route would take them directly through the corridor where the deadly standoff was taking place, and as they rounded the corner and crossed the courtyard, the tense tableau was perfectly framed in the giant archway--Heero, Relena, and a flaming torch on the wall between them, illuminating the shiny surface of the outstretched gun.

Several things happened in only a few seconds. First, Otto and Milliardo stopped a good fifty yards from the great archway to the corridor, where all they could see were the two children, and the gun. Then, a shadow of fury fell over Milliardo's face, and he took off running towards the scene. Otto followed, but wasn't in the best of shape, and therefore couldn't keep up. While Relena continued to stare straight ahead, Heero became gradually aware of the six-foot-tall projectile about a second before it hit, and turned his head just in time to be tackled by a very angry brother. At the instant of the impact, Heero's concentration was broken, his hand twitched violently, and the gun went off. The shot echoed through the cavernous halls in all directions, accompanied by a little screech from Relena, emitted as she fell to the ground, momentarily obscured by a cloud of spent powder. It all seemed to take place in slow motion.

Before the echoing bangs died out, Milliardo had gathered himself up to his knees, then pounced on the stunned boy and began throttling him with both hands. Being pressed flat against the floor with a knee in his abdomen, Heero cringed and clawed at the massive hands crushing his neck, and would have remembered some clever moves to reverse positions with his attacker had he been in his right mind, which he wasn't. He'd shot Relena. He knew it.

Only a second later, Otto reached the corridor and fell down next to Relena's crumpled form, having to shout to be heard over the crowd's shocked rumblings, not to mention Milliardo's rampant stream of threats and curses. Strangers crowded in around the fallen girl, and still more encircled the two young men and tried to pry them apart, but without success. Behind the combatants, someone helped Otto gingerly turn Relena over, and everyone gasped at the sight of blood trickling from her neck. Another person immediately donated a cloth, and unknown hands pressed it to the wound while unashamedly searching the rest of her for more signs of injury. Within moments, her eyes blinked open, and then closed again as she realised she wasn't dead.

The people were still trying to pry Milliardo off Heero, but there were no breakthroughs until a dark-haired blur of beige came storming in, shoving folks aside left and right. It was Lucrezia, and upon seeing the man whom she could hear shouting from several yards away, she launched herself onto his back, tangled her arms up underneath his shoulders and around his neck, and exerted a secret choke-hold that finally broke his grip on Heero and sent him rolling backwards into the dirt. As Heero flopped over on his side, coughing and gasping for air, Trowa appeared through a gap in the onlookers and crashed down to the ground to help him, but Heero was only concerned with one thing--seeing past the thickening crowd that surrounded Relena.

As Milliardo hauled himself back to his feet and prepared to face his new attacker, Lucrezia swung back with one arm and slapped him as hard as she could, right across the face. It was more to get his attention than anything else, and it worked. Hunched over, hair sticking out in odd directions, and eyes blazing like a madman's, he looked up and really saw her at last. Ten kinds of shock flooded his veins at the very sight of her, for the young lovers had not laid eyes upon each other for months. The second the shock wore off, however, he forgot Lucrezia and hurried over to see what condition his sister was in. Lucrezia looked back and forth between him and Heero, still trying to piece together what had just happened, because nobody around her seemed to know, either.

Milliardo fell at Relena's side as she was being propped up by Otto and a helpful stranger. She was holding the cloth to the side of her neck on her own, and though she was pale and weak, she seemed quite coherent. "It's just a scratch," she said in a low, crackly voice backed by steely determination, and she pulled the cloth away to show him. Indeed, the bullet had grazed her neck and given her a fright, but nothing more.

"I'll kill him," Milliardo hissed. "I _swear_, I'll _kill_ him!"

"No!" Relena dropped the blood-stained cloth and angrily grabbed a handful of the front of his coat. "You listen to me! You won't touch a hair on his head or I'll never speak to you again! If you love me at all, you'll do as I say!"

"Are you mad!?" Otto howled. She was sounding once again like a love-sick girl protecting her crush, and to an extent, that was true, but it was also very strategic. She knew that harming what Jeffrhyss still saw as his property could only hurt their chances for getting into Cinq.

Relena stood, refusing all help and lifting her head proudly. "Just take me to our rooms."

As her brother stood, he looked around for Lucrezia, but the brunette had mysteriously disappeared. Then, as much as it pained both him and his pride, he escorted Relena out of the corridor without any further fuss. Otto went with them at first, and there were lingering arguments over what to do about the apparent assassination attempt, after which Otto made his way back through the dispersing crowd to have one final word with Heero. During the in-between time, Trowa had snatched the gun up off the floor and tucked it into his clothes, grimly withholding judgement until he had all the facts. By then, Heero had stopped coughing and choking, and was merely rubbing his neck to get the circulation back, with his head hanging low from oxygen-deprived dizziness. Otto didn't particularly care _what_ he was suffering from, however, when he stormed back into the corridor, shoved Trowa aside, picked Heero up by the front of his tunic and slammed him against the wall.

"I've _never_ liked you," Otto snarled right in the boy's face, while Trowa watched in stunned silence. "I didn't want you in my house, I didn't want you anywhere near Miss Relena, and it's a pity she didn't listen to me because it turns out I was right all along. Now, I don't know what you said to scare her out of it, but she's already refusing to press charges. Personally, I don't think that's good enough for you. I don't think deportation to Siberia would be good enough for you, but it's not my decision, so this is as good as it's going to get. As soon as you set foot back on Bridlewood's property, you have exactly _one hour_ to collect your things and _get out_, or I _will_ have you arrested for trespassing. Got that!?" Heero couldn't seem to do anything other than glare tiredly at the angry bear, and the bear eventually lost patience, knocking Heero into the wall once more before letting go. He swung his furious eyes onto Trowa. "And don't you make one wrong move either, or you can pack your things as well!" Then he stalked off. When it sank in that he had just been sacked, Heero stared at the floor, wondering what Duo would say when he got home.

"Are you alright?" Trowa finally asked.

"I'll need to be very drunk on the way home, just thought I'd warn you," Heero said in a raspy tone. He also began rubbing his gut where Milliardo had impaled him, and then realised his hands were empty. He scanned the ground frantically. "Where's my--"

"I've got it," Trowa said quietly, patting a spot on his belt that was covered with cloth, while looking around for stragglers. They appeared to be alone, but it was best to be sure. "What happened?"

"It was Jeffrhyss," Heero warbled with another cough. "He goaded me into it..._he_ was the one I was aiming at, not her! But she stepped right in front of..." Pausing to run a hand through his hair, he thought about how badly he wanted to turn the clock back, but couldn't decide on how far back it should have gone. Fifteen years might have been nice.

At the other end of the corridor, Trowa had located the spot where Relena fell and was slowly walking away from it, roughly along the path Jeffrhyss used to retreat. He was studying the ground very carefully. "Where was he? About here?"

Heero looked over and shook his head helplessly. "I suppose."

Trowa continued walking slowly down the hall, bending down further and further to look curiously at the floor. "Heero...there's _blood_ over here. And _here_, too! It's all over the place!"

Again, Heero went a bit white and had an ugly feeling in his stomach. He started to follow him down the hall. "How much blood?"

"See for yourself."

The boys followed a trail of blood spatters that clearly led away from where Relena had been taken, so they couldn't have been hers. The droplets went down the corridor about thirty yards, rounded a corner, and suddenly stopped. Many scuffled footprints appeared where the blood vanished, but the owners couldn't be tracked very far. The new prints were erased by broom marks, to conceal their direction. It all suggested that the injured person was met by several servants, who practically carried him to safety while simultaneously tending to his wounds and covering their tracks. It was just the sort of rapid and heavy response Lord Jeffrhyss could have commanded.

"You _got_ him," Trowa breathed.

Heero didn't answer. He was paralysed with dread. The bullet obviously continued on after striking Relena, and if the blood splatters and footprints were to be believed, Jeffrhyss wasn't swift enough to escape it. Even though Heero had pointed a gun at the man's head, he logically didn't really mean to shoot him, because Relena was right--killing him would have signed his own death warrant within minutes. It was impossible to tell whether the shot was fatal, or even if it struck Jeffrhyss at all, but Heero didn't fancy hanging around long enough to find out. "Go get Lucy and meet me at the stables," he said quickly. "We're getting out of here, _now_."

**********  
  


Lucrezia saw, at some point during the aftermath of the fight, that neither Heero nor Relena were in critical danger, and it was right then that she slipped away to think. After more dreadful months of separation from Milliardo, she found she didn't know what to say to him. The conundrum was awful. Still, as he took his baby sister away from the melée, Lucrezia followed at a distance, then hung around outside the hall leading to their guestrooms for awhile, forever working up the nerve to go and talk to him.

She leaned against the wall directly opposite the door she believed to be his and waited there for several minutes. Eventually, the wooden door opened and Milliardo stepped out, intent on fetching a glass of water for his sister and a few gulps of fresh air for himself, and stopped cold when he saw Lucrezia. He shut the door behind him, brushed a thick strand of hair out of his eyes, and gazed at her, fearfully and fondly. "You're looking well," he said after an extended silence. After she didn't answer, he scowled, and his voice turned a bit harsh. "I don't understand how you found this place...you must have come with that boy."

"'That boy' you nearly killed?" said Lucrezia. Milliardo immediately opened his mouth to defend his actions, but Lucrezia threw a hand up in front of his face, uttered some sort of curse in Greek, and stalked off, well aware that he was following closely on her heels. "I don't want to hear it! Whatever happened, there must have been a reason for it, and I can guarantee you that Heero's not the kind of person who kills innocent people, oh, and by the way, _why_ in _Heaven's_ name are you trying to associate yourself with the kind of people who are!?"

Milliardo grabbed her arm to stop her, and they skidded to a halt about twenty feet from Relena's door, and faced each other. He looked at the ground for awhile. "It's complicated."

"Oh, too complicated for me to understand? Have you forgotten who you're talking to? You used to _respect_ my intelligence! How do you think it felt just now, finding out that you abandoned me for these reprobates!?"

"I was trying to protect you!" he shouted back in frustration. "I couldn't spare Relena from it, she was involved even before I was, but I couldn't bear to risk anyone else's life needlessly! You're absolutely right, these are horrible criminals, ruthless and without pity, so how could I have exposed my location to you _knowing_ that any one of them could have been watching me!? Tell me that!"

Calmly, Lucrezia folded her arm and lowered her eyelids a tad. "This Jeffrhyss fellow...how well do you know him?"

"Not at all. Why?"

"Did you know he likes to gamble?" she asked in a teasing tone. "Or that he likes a spoonful of honey in his tea? Did anyone tell you that he prefers the lines of his memos typed in _exactly_ straight columns or they're unacceptable? Were you aware that he always, _always_ takes a half-hour walk after lunch, with armed guards around him?"

Milliardo squinted suspiciously. "How do you know all this?"

She looked away, the wandered a few steps back to the wall of the corridor, and leaned against it on one shoulder. "I suppose I should have told you from the start...but I had the same attack of selflessness. I didn't want to put you in danger, any more than you--"

"Wait a minute, what are you talking about?"

"I probably shouldn't do this.....no, I _definitely_ shouldn't do this." She shook her head, bit her lip, and shook her head a second time. "I should drag you both out of here and make you promise never to have anything to do with these people again...but if you've gone this far, you must have a reason. See...I _trust_ your judgement...even if you have difficulty trusting mine." As she bent her neck to look back at Milliardo, his bewilderment was clear. "I can help you."

".....Lu...what are you saying?"

He was frightened now, she could tell. She traced the silhouette of his face gently with one hand, thinking about the dangers she might have been committing herself to; if anything, that made her certain that the decision was the correct one, because she couldn't let her fiancée face those dangers unaided. "I should go find the boys...let them know I'm not going back with them." And she left him alone for a little while, just long enough to tell Trowa that she was joining Milliardo on his journey.

**********  
  


Duo shot upright in bed with a tremendous gasp, grabbing at his throat to tear away whatever was squeezing the air out of him. He panted and wheezed in the darkness until he had to believe what his fingers were telling him, that there was absolutely nothing clutching his throat. Sweat plastered strands of hair to his forehead, and he was shaking all over as he went from boiling hot to freezing cold in a matter of seconds. The blankets were half-hanging off the bed, and he quickly gathered one of them up and wrapped it around himself, shivering. He glanced all around the room, but saw nothing out of order; Shadow was curled up in her basket, there was no storm outside or any other disturbance, everything was outwardly calm.

_.....nightmare..._

It had felt so real. Someone was trying to strangle him. After that, he knew it was going to take another hour to get back to sleep, and it was awfully late already. A look at the clock confirmed that he had been asleep _less_ than an hour when the nightmare came, and it was a terrible portent that the night would just be dragging on from that point.

Duo located his pillow on the floor next to the bed, where it must have fallen when he was thrashing around and struggling for breath. He picked it up, smushed it in half and buried his face in it with a sigh, curling up into a tight little ball of mouse. He wanted Heero back, to stroke his hair and tell him it was just a dream, to snuggle up to and be lulled to sleep by a steadier pattern of breathing.

Eventually, he went back to sleep, but it was hours later, and in between, the nightmare lingered.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Seventy-Seven: While Quatre languishes in his fourth-floor prison, Heero and Trowa come home to an uncertain welcome._

I hope nobody finds it tasteless to talk about thousands of people being wiped out by a volcano while we're on the brink of war...it's just a story. *huggles everyone* Well, I'll get right to the point...next episode will be on March 25th. Bai-bai! 


	77. Hello, I Must Be Going

**Disclaimer:** I know, from traipsing through every store, mall, and boutique in the Greater Toronto Area, that nobody has Gundam pilots for sale. I even offered to pay retail instead of the supposed sale price, but they still said no. Therefore, I cannot possibly own these magnificent examples of manhood, or the chicks they hang out with. Do not sue me. I have no money except that miniscule amount reserved for presents.

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Seventy-Seven: Hello, I Must Be Going

_"Tempora mutantur, et nos mutanmur in illis. - Times change, and we change with them." ~Latin Anonymous _

March 25th, 1903

Getting into Morocco was apparently the easy part. Once Trowa returned with the message that Lucrezia was switching allegiances, news which was _not_ well-received by Heero, they begrudgingly untethered their camel, hastily strapped their luggage to her back, and high-tailed it out of the citadel. They didn't know how long it would take for Lord Jeffrhyss' guards to come after them, so they couldn't afford the smallest delay, even to check their direction. As they fled in the middle of the night, Trowa occasionally glanced up at the stars, struggling to find clues that they were indeed headed back towards Marrakesh, but after sustaining so many shocks over the last few hours, he didn't wholly trust his own judgement.

To complicate matters, their camel was only willing to go so far without sleep, and then she plopped herself down on a patch of sandy loam and refused to budge. She was asleep within seconds, and no amount of tugging on the reins would shift her. The boys stood around and stared at the 1200-pound beast for awhile, then made a close study of the darkened horizon. It didn't look like they were being followed, for a start, and they were just as much in need of sleep as the camel, it being a scant few hours before sunrise. Trowa eventually convinced Heero that they'd have to stop and rest sometime or they'd collapse, and that it might actually be tougher for the guards to find them in the wilderness than in the city, where there were thousands of witnesses to everything. If not for the fact that most of their money was tied up in the camel, they would have taken their suitcases and set her free, but she was yet another reason why they should just grab a short nap and continue on in the morning, so that was what they did.

The next several days were full of setbacks, delays, disappointments and general negativity as they tried to get back home. The only person interested in buying their camel drove the hardest bargain of all, so because of desperation for time, they sold her at a slight loss. Then, the train back to the coast was delayed by several hours, because of some problem on the track. Following that, all the boats back to Europe seemed to be booked solid, and there was a two-day waiting list. They used that two days instead to travel further north, and eventually found a fishing boat that was willing to take them across to Spain, for a price. It got them closer to home, but left them practically broke. For days more, the pair slouched their way ever northward, trying to look inconspicuous but always looking over their shoulders until, mostly due to the kindness of strangers, they found themselves on a slow boat to Brighton.

From there, it was hitchhiking all the way back to London, and by the time they dragged themselves up to the front door of Bridlewood, they weren't in the mood to take on any more problems, but as soon as they plodded up the stairs and pushed open the door, which was strangely left unlocked, they didn't have much of a choice.

"...and wearing this greyish-purple waistcoat, right? And.....yeah, I'll hold! Geez..." Not even two feet in the door, Heero and Trowa stopped, and looked at each other. That was Duo's voice, and he sounded extremely frustrated at something. They walked the rest of the way inside, shut the door, set their cases down and hesitantly looked around for hints of Otto's presence, all while moving slowly towards the source of the disgruntled voice. In the north hall, they found Duo, pacing back and forth past the Chippendale table with the telephone in his hands and the earpiece pressed to one ear. He had his white chef's tunic and his denims on, and his hair looked very hastily thrown together in as sloppy a braid as either of the boys had ever seen. When he turned around and started pacing back, he spotted Heero, looked surprised and happy for about half a second, then sighed with his whole body and pressed the mouthpiece of the telephone to his chest as he whispered harshly, "_Where_ have you _been_!?"

Heero opened his mouth to explain the events of the last week and a half, but whoever was on the other end of the telephone started speaking again, and Duo's attention was dragged away. "Hello? ...what!? ...I just _told_ all this to Constable What's-his-nuts half an hour ago! Don't you people write anything down!? ...okay, okay...he's five-foot-four, I guess about a hundred and forty pounds, light blond hair..."

Trowa paled. One person sprang immediately to mind upon hearing that description, and he rushed past Heero to grab Duo by the arm. "What's going on?"

"...hold on a sec," Duo blurted into the phone, and then he pressed the mouthpiece against his tunic again and looked sadly up at Trowa. "Quat's gone missing."

Upon hearing the news, Trowa's skin began to crawl, and he wandered away a few feet to think, clutching a handful of his dusty clothes just above his heart. There were many reasons why a person could vanish from sight, but Trowa instantly felt that he knew what was wrong, and what drove the gardener to flee his erstwhile home. _Oh no...what's he done? I told him we were fine, didn't he believe me? He must not have felt able to leave while I was around, so he waited.....oh, Quat, why didn't you believe me?_

Behind him, Duo had resumed arguing with the desk officer at the police station, and Heero was leaning against the back of a chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly. "...I don't _know_ if he's a landed immigrant or not! What difference does that make anyway!? Missing is missing!" The chef was becoming increasingly exasperated at the way the information he sent over the phone line seemed to get lost when it hit the officer's ear. "Is he over eighteen? ...I don't know...does he have to be? ...well, I was just asking!! Why don't you send someone over here instead of making snide remarks at me, huh!?" Whatever the officer said next cheesed Duo off pretty badly; he slammed the phone down on the table, hurling the earpiece down so hard that it bounced, then stalked away a few feet. "Useless people!..."

Calmly, Heero hung up the earpiece properly, effectively ending the call. This was all he needed. "How long has he been gone?" he asked without looking up.

"Since you left," Duo answered without turning around. "Hilde said he was just going out for awhile, and he told her not to worry about him, and that was the last anyone heard. I keep calling the police, but they haven't done anything yet, because technically, if he just walked out the door and left, he isn't a 'missing person.'" Gradually, he looked over his shoulder at Heero, desperately in need of a hug but too burdened with complications to think about a happy reunion. "That isn't all you've missed either."

Heero took a step or two forward, already glaring. "Break it to me gently, I've had a rough week."

Duo whipped around and went into gradiose explanatory mode, his hands in the air to punctuate his speech. "Okay, well...a few days ago...Thursday. Thursday morning, Otto comes barging in all of a sudden, lines us up, and he starts pacing, like this..." He clasped his hands behind his back, stood up as tall as he could, puffed out his chest, and walked back and forth past Heero a few times, making a great show of looking down his nose at him. Then he stopped suddenly. "...and he starts barking on about how disappointed Relena is in all of us because we've let the house run to ruin, and how things are going to be different, and how if we don't like it, we can just leave! And since then he's been advertising for more staff in the post office _and_ the newspaper!"

"He's not replacing you, is he?" Heero asked, looking suddenly concerned.

Duo stuck his hands in his pockets and gazed off to the side. "No, seems my job's safe for the moment. _Yours_, on the other hand..." He looked up, and was able to see that this did not come as a surprise to his friend. That was very disturbing. "What happened? Things have been wrong here before, but...not like this."

"Is Otto here now?"

"He's out."

Heero nodded thoughtfully, then glanced over at Trowa. He seemed lost in a world of his own, and didn't appear ready to be disturbed after hearing the news about Quatre. "Maybe I have time to clean up first, and then I'll tell you the epic saga..." He dragged himself up the stairs and vanished, but only for a little while. He would soon have to pack his things, after all.

**********  
  


Quatre's routine hadn't changed much over the past couple of weeks. He got three square meals a day at nine, one, and six o'clock sharp, and while he never got to choose what was served to him, it was always leftovers of whatever Lady Une was eating, so that much was difficult to complain about. Boredom was a key component of his day; the attic room had been fixed up fairly well as a living space, with a bed and a desk and even its own bathroom, but that was about it. Storage boxes and spiders were his only companions. At least the tiny window was facing east.

At that particular moment, he was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall with the window in it, staring across the tiny room at his reflection in a tall, free-standing mirror. He had his knees propped up at an angle, his arms resting on his knees, and his hands clasped together in mid-air; he had been that way for three hours straight. His half-eaten breakfast of French toast and a fancy folded omelette lay on its plate a foot or two away, because he found he just wasn't getting as hungry as usual anymore. He just sat there, and sat, and sat, staring at himself in the mirror so hard that eventually, though he refused to believe it at first, his reflection blinked when he did not. He stared a bit harder, and the reflection turned his head a little, eyeing Quatre at a bit of an angle. It was another half hour later, at least, when the reflection spoke.

"How long are you going to sit there?" it said.

Quatre stopped breathing, listening to the empty room and wondering if he had imagined the sound of his own voice talking to him. He hadn't felt his mouth moving, but he had distinctly seen his reflection's lips forming the words, as clearly as if he had done it himself. That didn't compute. "...what?"

The reflection folded its arms and looked rather offended. "_Sorry_, it just looks to me like you've given up."

"I haven't given up!" Quatre shot back. "I'm just...sitting for a minute. Can't a man sit and let his breakfast digest in peace anymore?"

"You need some fresh air," the reflection scolded, wagging a finger at Quatre. "You're going a little nutty in here by yourself, did you know that?"

Quatre scoffed at his reflection. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm just a bit confused lately, that's all."

"Confused?" the reflection laughed. "Um, no. 'Confused' would be you walking into a restaurant and asking for the kosher menu. This is a full-blown identity crisis."

"Shut up! No it's not!" Upon realising that he had just shouted at thin air, Quatre blushed and ducked his head a bit. Maybe he _was_ experiencing a touch of cabin fever, come to think of it...but that was no reason for his hallucination to speak so rudely to him. "What's your point?"

The reflection actually stood up at that point, and walked purposefully to the edge of the reversed space behind the glass, stopping right at the mirror's surface without going through it. "Nobody's looking for you, and it's your own stupid fault. If you want out of here, you're going to have to do it yourself." Then, the reflection quickly pointed an arm to his right, which was Quatre's left, at the closet in the corner of the room. "Now, get up and get back to work!"

"Yes, sir." Meekly, Quatre rolled over onto his knees and gradually stood, then started walking over to the closet. First, though, he paused, walked over to the mirror while his now obedient reflection copied his movements, and raised a hand to the glass. He knocked on it lightly, and the reflection knocked on the other side at the same spot and at the same time. It wasn't moving by itself or talking back anymore. Quatre eyed the mirror suspiciously as he walked away.

Over in the corner, in the wall perpendicular to the wall with the window, was a linen closet of sorts, with flimsy shelves that had been tacked up with four nails each. The very day he had been captured, the gardener had searched for a means of escape, and the only moderately interesting thing in the room had been the old linen closet. After removing the shelves and hiding them under the bed, he knocked lightly on the inside and detected a hollow space behind the right-hand wall, possibly the closet of the next room. It was strange, seeing so much closet space when free-standing wardrobes were the fashion, but Quatre didn't ask questions. Starting that day, and working on it a little bit at a time throughout the weeks, he had been chipping away at plaster and paint on the interior right wall of the closet, hoping to eventually break through to the other side, wherever it led him.

The reflection was right; his time was much too valuable to waste sitting around moping. He crawled back into the closet and set to work again, widening the gouge he had carved out of the little wall. Breaking through the plaster lath was difficult, but the metal forks and knives that always came with his meals were a great help. The rest was down to patience, and time.

**********  
  


"...and so we ended up stranded in this Spanish monastery, and the monks had to call in a favour from the local beet farmer to take us as far as Valencia on the back of his cart, and it was just...hitching rides all the way to the coast." Heero looked nice and neat, all cleaned up in a fresh suit, but he still sounded terribly tired, and recounted most of his sad tale while leaning heavily over the kitchen table, with his head propped up on one set of knuckles. "It was the only way we'd have enough money to cross the Channel." Duo and Hilde were huddled around him, and Shadow had sauntered under the table and jumped up into his lap, but he still couldn't quite relax. The clock was ticking.

"And Jeffrhyss never caught up with you?" Hilde asked without thinking.

Heero lifted his head and let the hand propping it up fall to the table with a slap, glaring. "I'd hardly be here talking to you if he did."

While Hilde blushed and smirked and looked away, Duo sat rather solemnly, slowly going over the facts out loud with his eyes plastered down on the tabletop. "So...if Otto's already looking for a new butler...that must mean..."

With an inaudible sigh, Heero confirmed what Duo was thinking but didn't really want to hear. "He fired me."

"So...what're you going to do now?"

"I can't stay here. He'll probably have me arrested if I'm not gone by the time he gets back." As Heero leaned back in his chair a bit, Shadow sat up on her haunches and kneaded the front of his shirt with her paws, purring. "I shouldn't stay anyway...this is the first place Jeffrhyss' guards might look for me, and I can't put anyone else at risk because of my mistake."

Duo didn't like the sound of that one bit. He'd waited weeks for Heero to return, at the very least so he could get a decent night's sleep at last. "Where will you go?"

"I'll stay at Catherine's tonight, until I can think of something better," said Heero, sounding unpleasantly resigned to it. There wasn't a great deal of discussion about it after that, and he was mildly surprised that Duo didn't protest more, but the chef had been in the business long enough to know that some things had to be done for the good of the mission, and those were the things he had to bite his lip and suffer through.

During a lull in the conversation, Trowa plodded down the stairs and went immediately for his coat. He didn't look well at all; in fact, he looked downright sickly, as he was finding more and more new ways to blame himself for Quatre's departure. He buttoned himself up while looking outside at the light drizzle that had started, then half-turned his head towards the others. "I'm going to go check with his sisters.....see if he's turned up there or something..." he muttered. Hilde followed him out the back door with an umbrella, offering as many kind words as she could, leaving Duo and Heero to stew in the resultant fog of despair.

Long after he was gone, while the pair of them were still sitting in silent contemplation, Duo slumped forward and rested his head on his folded arms. "Poor guy..."

Heero thought about it for awhile, then shook his head. Nothing made any sort of sense recently. "Did Quatre give _any_ indication at all why he had to leave? Did it have anything to do with his family?"

"No idea," said Duo. "I should've kept a closer eye on him. I think maybe he wished he could've gone with you, but so did I, and I never felt the need to run off like tha--"

Even from several rooms away, on a different floor, they clearly heard the front door opening and almost slamming shut. Then a booming male voice shouted for Doris. Heero and Duo looked up at each other. _Otto!_ they seemed to think at each other across the space between them, and they jumped up out of their chairs and ran light-footed up the servants' stairs, hoping to make it to their room before Otto found them and exploded.

They made it up to the second floor landing, and then had to leave the security of the stairwell to make it the rest of the way. Otto was nowhere to be seen, so they tip-toed down the hall towards their room, known to Otto as Heero's room alone. Things were going well until they opened the door and saw Otto himself, standing in the doorway as if he had been waiting for them, arms folded and looking as stern as ever. The boys actually jumped a bit, and Heero, forgetting until just then that he was still carrying Shadow, handed her off to Duo and then glared at the house steward. "I was just going to pack."

Otto stared at him with burning hot eyes, then took out a pocket watch, glanced at it, and stared again. "Fifty nine minutes, forty-five seconds."

Heero pushed past him and into his room, crouching down to remove his old, battered suitcase from under the bed. Otto slowly stalked out the door and past Duo, who glared at him a bit as Shadow flattened her ears against her head and growled. "'Hello' might've been nice," he snarked daringly.

Otto pausing to lean forward and back the chef up a few inches. "Fifty-nine minutes, _twenty-seven_ seconds." Then he left.

For the next little while, Duo reluctantly helped his friend gather together his meagre possessions for relocation to a new environment. He had been looking forward to a happy reunion and a big hug so badly, and now he was being deprived of both. It didn't seem fair. During their work, they made idle chit-chat about how life in London was going, because neither really wanted to discuss what could happen next. If Jeffrhyss was dead, or even injured, Heero's safety was greatly in question, but it all seemed to big and monstrous to think about.

Duo found Heero another old suitcase from the attic to carry the overflow, and when they had finished packing, they marched downstairs to the foyer, where Otto was waiting with one eye on his watch. As his final gesture, Otto held the door open for Heero on his way out, and even as Hilde came scampering in from the back of the house to see the boy off, she was stopped cold by the gruff man's presence, and not a word was spoken by anyone. Heero didn't even waste a glare on the man, he just strode outside with his head held high and his dignity intact, the same way he had entered the house nearly two years previous. Otto locked the door behind him, and departed the foyer immediately afterwards. Duo, who was still carrying Shadow in his arms, snarled after him as he scratched the cat behind the ear. "I know someone who's getting liver for dinner," he said, and he didn't mean Shadow. Hilde put an arm around him and patted his shoulder sympathetically as they made their way back to the kitchen.

No one else had bothered turning up to see Heero off, though it was just the housemaids left anyway. He told himself he didn't care, that the housemaids had been more trouble than they were worth since the very beginning, and that he was better off not seeing them, but somehow that wasn't enough. It would have been nice to see a few more friendly faces...not required, just nice. He felt as though he were forgetting someone all the same...

"Laddie!"

A semi-hushed voice calling out from Heero's right as he walked by the corner of the mansion jogged his memory. He stopped, looked up, and saw Arthur standing by the side of the house in his overalls and cap, looking like he'd gotten a head start on the spring planting in Quatre's absence. Not wanting to get the man into trouble for speaking to an outcast, Heero glanced briefly at the front door to make sure Otto wasn't watching, then walked up along the hedge to meet the kindly carpenter, setting his cases on the ground when he was safely out of sight.

"It's a bad business," Arthur said in a worried tone. "What wi' you gettin' the sack, an' little Quatre gone missin'...feels like it's got Treize's dirty fingerprints all over't."

"Part of this is my own fault," Heero admitted, "but if I can't figure out where he's disappeared to..."

"You'll not give up on 'im, will you?" Arthur asked solemnly.

Arthur had always been fond of Quatre, like the grandson he never had, and he was just as worried as everybody else put together that he had vanished without saying goodbye. "Certainly not," Heero declared with confidence.

With one hand, Arthur removed his cap, exposing his pudgy, balding head, and the other hand he extended to Heero. "Take care, Laddie. An' keep in touch."

Heero clasped the hand and shook it, etching into his memory the face of the first person at Bridlewood to show him genuine kindness. Then he picked up his bags, walked back down to the street and melted into the city, concentrating on nothing else other than putting one foot in front of the other until the rampant chattering in his head quieted enough so that he could think.

**********  
  


Digging with his trusty butter knife, Quatre had slowly scraped away enough of the inner closet wall to open a half-inch hole to the other side. It was pitch black. That was actually a good sign, because if there had been any lights on in the other room, it would have been much harder to sneak into it once the hole was large enough. That was the first ray of hope he'd seen in a fortnight, and he was clinging to it for dear life. _Even so...once I get into this other room, it's going to take some hard work to sneak out of the house without being noticed. Now I wish I'd paid better attention when Heero gave us that two-hour lecture on how to beat squeaky floorboards._

Footsteps approached. Quatre froze long enough to recognize this fact and hastily pulled himself out of the closet, shutting the door silently. He ran to the bed, wiped the plaster dust off the butter knife using the innermost blanket, and set it down on his lunch tray just as the door to his prison cell opened. It wasn't time for any scheduled meal deliveries, so the arrival of Lady Une's snooty butler was a complete surprise.

As per usual, the balding man nudged the door open with his clenched right fist, which perpetually held a little pearl-handled Derringer, discreet but deadly. It was trained on Quatre the second the door was opened, and would remain so until it was closed again. Inching icily into the room, the butler made quite sure that the boy was well away from the door, and then stepped aside to let a couple of burly brutes enter next. Unarmed but still determined to have their way, the brutes marched forward, grabbed Quatre by an arm apiece, sat him down in the chair that belonged to the writing desk, and tied his wrists to the arms of the chair with coarse twine that bit into his thinned cotton shirt cuffs like barbed wire. This was far from the usual routine, so even while Quatre glared nastily at his assailants, he knew something monumental was about to happen.

"Ready, m'lady," the butler called out in a slow and stuffy voice, and in walked Lady Une, as if by magic. She hadn't bothered putting on her finest gown to make a royal visit to the dusty old attic, so she looked a little plainer than usual in a pale cream and viridian striped dress, but her face was still made up to the fullest. She strolled in delightedly with her dainty hands clasped behind her, and was followed closely by her beloved fiancé, Treize. He looked as if he had just sauntered up the stairs on his way to do something else, with a dark casual suit and a folded newspaper under one arm. He was also halfway through a cigar.

"See, darling? He's perfectly alright up here," Une cooed to her lover. Walking behind the writing desk chair, she gazed up and down at her little captive, quite proud of herself.

Treize stopped so he was framed exactly in the doorway, making a menacing picture indeed. "Well, well, Mister 'Sagheer'.....it seems you've been keeping secrets. Naughty gardener!" He flicked his cigar out of habit, and the red embers landed a little too near Quatre's foot for comfort. "I'm sure if you told me from the start that you were the heir to a fortune, we would have become great friends instead of...oh, how would you put it, my dear?" he finished, turning to Une.

Her Ladyship smiled cattily. "A birdkeeper and a little pigeon with his wings clipped?"

"You're wasting your time," Quatre snarled. "Back home there are plenty members of my family left who won't be so easily captured, and could _never_ be killed. They're going to take our case to the highest court possible and have the tontine dissolved, so there's no way you'll see one penny of it." At this point, he was willing to say anything to detract attention from those members of his family who were living just across town.

"Somehow I don't think so," Treize shot back, stepping forward and leaning right down into Quatre's face while perching his cigar hand on the back of the chair. "Understand that I make my livelihood doing this sort of thing...tracking people down, extracting what I want from them, and discarding what remains."

"You can't keep it up forever. One day you'll make a fatal mistake, and then someone's going to lop your head off to pay you back for all the pain you've caused. My family probably won't even have to do it...I'm sure you've made more than enough enemies who would _love_ to see you get your comeuppance."

From behind, Une stroked the boy's face and hair lovingly. "Now, stop that! You mustn't upset yourself...unhappy thoughts can lead to poor health, and we want to keep you in top condition if we want to win, don't we? We can't claim the money if you're dead from a stress-induced heart attack, can we?" She paused suddenly, then swooped lower to examine the top of Quatre's head as she ran her fingers through his hair. The feathery blondness stopped about an eighth of an inch above his scalp. "Ooh, look at that...your roots are showing!" she chirped, wide-eyed.

"Get off!" Quatre barked, jerking his head away sharply. Une sniffed at him and walked away, pretending to be offended.

Treize raised a forked eyebrow at the exchange, taking another long drag of his cigar. "Well, I suppose now that I've seen your state of health and confirmed your identity, I can get back to my newspaper." He turned and sauntered out, with Une close behind, and that was that. The burly brutes untied Quatre under the watchful eye of the butler, who was eventually the last to leave. The gun was pointed at him until the very last second when the door latched shut, and suddenly, the boy was alone again. A key clicked in the lock, and the ordeal was over as quickly as it had begun. Une had just wanted to show off the present she had procured for her man, and she would be soaking up his accolades for days to come, but they hadn't won yet.

There were less than two hours now before someone would be coming up to collect the lunch tray and replace it with a dinner tray. Quatre picked up the knife, went back to the closet, and resumed scraping.

**********  
  


Catherine was naturally saddened by the news that Heero had lost his job, but was nevertheless glad to have her favourite tenant back. Since Wufei was still in his old room, she offered him one of the newer suites over the renovated wing. It was a bit more spacious, and the decorating was top-notch, but even though he put a grateful face on for Catherine's sake, on the inside he just couldn't get enthused. Bridlewood felt like home to him; during his abscence, he actually missed it. Now he had no idea where he belonged.

Trowa was still there talking to Quatre's sisters when Heero arrived. The cinnamon-haired boy looked distraught in a restrained sort of way, as if he was trying to be brave for the girls' sake, but they were soon just as worried as he was, for they hadn't heard a peep out of their brother since before he disappeared. Heero joined in their debate for awhile as they tossed around theories, but after a short time, the girls seemed too despondent to carry on. Their family had been through too much torment to have very much faith about anything, and it showed; Hessa began talking about 'what a good brother he was,' and the twins skittered away somewhere to cry together. Yasmeen was in no mood for tears, however. She sat in a corner, limbs folded and eyes terse as she stared at nothing. It was difficult to tell how quickly the wheels in her head were turning, but she was hardly the type of person to take an attack such as this lying down. Somewhere in the back of her head, she was already hatching a plan.

Eventually, Heero tired of the discussion and retreated to his room to think. He flopped on his new bed and stared at the ceiling for a long time, trying to piece together what might have been going through Quatre's mind, or what might have been cleverly placed into his mind to make him more vulnerable; he wasn't ruling out kidnapping, not by a long shot. Dinnertime rolled around, but he didn't have much of an appetite, and he lolled around his room well into the night, constantly looking at the clock and imagining what Duo might be doing at any particular moment. It was very soothing to think of him.

Before he could drift further away, there was a light tapping at his door. It could have been just about anyone, and most of the possibilities were at least somewhat threatening. Instantly on his guard, he sat up and eyed the door menacingly, but contrary to his normal instincts, he didn't make that lightning-fast grab for his gun. The vile thing had been cleaned, polished, and put away in its case the moment he had the room to himself, and he wasn't keen on taking it out again after his little mishap. That meant he would have to face whatever was on the other side of the door the hard way. He stood up and walked ever so silently to the door, taking so long that the person knocked again, a little louder than before. Finally, Heero grasped the door handle, pulled the wooden slab open a crack, and was met by a pair of sad violet eyes on a cherubic face. Blinking in surprise, he opened the door the rest of the way and sighed with relief.

Duo smirked a bit. "Hey."

"Hey," Heero returned gratefully. He stepped back, wordlessly inviting the other boy in, and closed the door behind him once he was inside. Then he noticed that Duo was carrying his old carpet bag, the one he found in the attic and adopted on a semi-permanent basis. It was bulging with unknown things, so obviously the chef had been packing as well. Heero looked shocked and worried. "Duo, you haven't _quit_ have you?"

"Nah," he said, tilting his head a bit. "Thought about it...but then I thought about what you'd say if I turned down a perfectly good paycheck."

Heero was pleased to hear that Duo had more sense than to throw away a steady job when the unemployment rate was still soaring. Nevertheless, he pointed at the bag. "So, what's all this?"

"Um...I was...sorta wondering...if maybe I could crash here tonight." Suddenly Duo felt all nervous and tingly, like the first night he offered to let Heero bunk up with him after the kittens were born. It was a good feeling, in a way, a fun sort of tugging sensation right around his bellybutton. "Don't worry, nobody saw me coming up here, and I'll be gone first thing in the morning, so nobody'll see me leave either. I'll kinda _have_ to be up at the crack of dawn, to get back over to the house and make breakfast!"

Taking it all in, Heero glanced down and smiled a bit. How noble Duo could be when he really tried! It would mean a lot of extra work for Duo, traipsing back and forth between Peckham and Regents Park, but the simple offer itself was just what Heero needed to boost his spirits. Still, before he could let his friend make such a sacrifice, he had to make sure it wasn't being presented without proper thought. He glanced over at the bed, which was hardly large enough for one person, let alone two, then looked back at Duo. "There's...not much room..."

"I don't care," Duo said, putting the bag down with a smile.

"...and there's no snacking in the middle of the night, either..."

Duo crept forward, standing toe-to-toe with Heero, and wrapped his arms around the other boy's waist, still smiling. "I don't care."

Feeling a rush of warmth, Heero's arms curled slowly around Duo completely under their own power, and he began to feel more and more at home. "...it'll be more running around for you...and you'll have to be out every morning at the crack of dawn, and--"

"Heero! ...you're not listening." Duo hugged him tighter and leaned his head on his shoulder. "I hardly got any sleep the whole time you were gone, and when you didn't come home after a week, it was ten times _worse_! I didn't know what happened, or if you were alright..." He lifted his head and leaned it against Heero's, just so that the tips of their noses were touching cutely. "I can hear what you're thinking...that I'd be safer at the manor with Jeffrhyss tracking you down...but you _know_ I can't stay there when you're stuck half-way across town. It'll be okay, I promise.....don't send me away..."

He couldn't have sent Duo away, even if he tried. All the time he was gone, he had been worrying silently in the back of his mind that something was wrong with the way he felt about Duo, that he was only running towards him because he was actually running away from something else. All the time he was gone, he had been waiting to get back home and test the theory, to hold Duo close and find out if the feeling was real, or if they had been kidding themselves all this time. Hoping desperately that the former was true, he held both arms snug and flat against Duo's back, pulled him nearer, and kissed him...a long, soft, good-to-see-you kiss, the one they should have been able to share the moment Heero returned. The irritating feeling of not belonging anywhere was gone, for home was wherever Duo happened to be, no matter what size or shape the space came in. As for the physical pull between them...it felt real enough, for now. Following the kiss, he pulled back a bit and tugged playfully on Duo's braid. "I didn't get any sleep either," he whispered.

It was a puzzle how they did it, but somehow they managed to both squeeze into that one little bed for the rest of the night.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Seventy-Eight: Heero and Duo find their new routines to be a difficult adjustment, and someone takes the law into their own hands on Quatre's behalf._

Heyaz! =^_^= If you're reading this at FFN, please swing by my website and answer a quick poll, it's reeeeeally important. And for everyone, next epiode will arrive on April 4th, so enjoy the sights, sounds, and *snifffff* smells of Spring until then!


	78. Siege

**Disclaimer:** I know, from traipsing through every store, mall, and boutique in the Greater Toronto Area, that nobody has Gundam pilots for sale. I even offered to pay retail instead of the supposed sale price, but they still said no. Therefore, I cannot possibly own these magnificent examples of manhood, or the chicks they hang out with. Do not sue me. I have no money except that miniscule amount reserved for presents.

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Seventy-Eight: Siege

_"It is amazing what can be accomplished when nobody cares about who gets the credit." ~Robert Yates _

April 4th, 1903

Heero was only vaguely aware of the alarm clock going off at five in the morning; amazingly, he was beginning to sleep right through it. Duo, on the other hand, sat straight up in bed, or as straight as he could while still anchored firmly in dreamland, and then slouched over and rubbed his eyes as he realised reality was calling him. It never wanted to leave a message and go away. The sun wouldn't even be up for another half-hour, but Duo somehow mustered the strength to slap a hand sloppily over the ringing bells atop the fat little timepiece, silencing it. He hadn't opened his eyes once yet, and just sort of groaned as he leaned out of the twin bed and subsequently fell on the floor with a crash. That woke Heero up.

Looking quickly left and right, and finding a wall on one side and empty space on the other, Heero crawled over to the side of the bed and looked down, finding Duo flat out on his stomach on the mat, with his head facing the door, snoring. The boy scowled and flopped back down into a pillow. This wasn't working. Having Duo come to stay at the pub with him every night seemed like a fabulous idea when it was hatched, but situations at the manor hadn't always been conducive to Duo getting a good night's sleep. The previous evening, Otto was entertaining some friends of the family, investors as Duo put it after listening to bits of their conversation, and they insisted on being fed well past midnight. In the absence of a butler, the task fell to the food preparer himself, and when it was all finished, including a round of drinks for the investors and a night of scrubbing pots and pans after Hilde fell asleep right at the kitchen table, he didn't arrive at Catherine's until a quarter past two. Having to pop perkily out of bed three hours later to take the milk in and start making breakfast was a tall order after that.

Not unsympathetically, Heero reached over the side of the bed with one arm, while crushing the other underneath him, and grabbed a handful of braid, tugging on it firmly. "Duo," he rasped, also feeling the effects of sleep-deprivation, but to a lesser extent. It was alright for him, he didn't necessarily have anything to do on any particular day, so he could always take an afternoon nap. _...take a nap?_ he thought angrily. _That's what old people do!_ "Duo, get up," he said, a little more firmly.

Duo moaned and groaned, but finally struggled up off the floor and into his coat and boots, his eyelids fluttering around half-mast the entire time. "...bumped into another family's chef in the vegetable market the other day," he muttered bitterly. "Why do all the other rich people in England eat breakfast off a big buffet table where everybody helps themselves, and I get the _only_ batch who wants separate plates made for them like a short-order cook!?"

"You can't go on like this," said Heero, forcing himself to sit up in his green and black pajamas and slouch in Duo's general direction.

The chef was just buttoning his coat over the clothes he slept in, and shook his head. "I'm not going back there, I won't get _any_ sleep at _all_." That seemed to settle the matter, as they were both too tired to argue further. He hadn't even the energy to lace up his boots properly, and shuffled to the door like a drunkard. "See ya later..."

"As soon as Trowa finds out anything, you call me," Heero reminding him seconds before hitting the pillow again.

"Yeah." Not too exhausted to be careful about how he entered and exited the room, Duo poked his head out into the hall and had a good look around before slipping out, quietly shutting the door behind him. Heero frowned and nestled back down into the bedcovers, in the warm spot that Duo had left behind. He tried to relax, breathing in the lingering scent of fresh-baked scones and hot cocoa transferred from Duo's hair to his pillow, staring at the wall, but sleep was now impossible. Still, there was very little for him to do, until Trowa came up with a theory on where Quatre was, so there was hardly any point in getting up. Beginning to feel very useless, Heero laid there in the dark, wide awake with his eyes closed, waiting for something to happen that would give him purpose again.

**********  
  


Sometime around mid-morning, Hilde went to see Wufei. She was getting tired of receiving less and less of his attention lately, and wanted to do something about it, which respectable young ladies wouldn't have even dreamed of doing, but she wasn't bothered about being respectable in their sense of the word. When she knocked on his door at the pub, she found out that he was just going somewhere, but was amiable enough to take her along, if she wanted. She agreed without even asking where they were going, and that was a mistake.

Wufei took her to a dangerous part of town, where all manner of thieves, rogues, and murderers walked the streets freely, at least until a policeman showed his face, in which case they all dove for cover. The dregs of society blended in with common beggars and pickpockets around one particular marketplace in the poor neighbourhood, and when one went underground into the various basement flats attached to seemingly respectable shops, a whole other world was revealed where one could buy daggers, guns, drugs, and anything else that could be dreamed up. How Wufei knew about such places, Hilde didn't want to contemplate. She just clung to his arm like a baby koala, shrinking into his side every time one of the unshaven thugs looked in her direction.

"Do we _have_ to be here?" she squealed.

Wufei was very casually browsing the wares for sale by the smugglers and bootleggers, and seemed only slightly irritated by the panicky female clutching one of his limbs. "Just doing a bit of gift shopping," he placated her. "Won't take long." It was very dark in the basement warehouse, and gas lamps illuminated table after table of illegal goods, laying on filthy old bedsheets that could be gathered up, tied closed, and slung over the vendor's back very quickly in the event of a raid. Behind one table that caught the boy's eye, a scraggly old woman with straw-like gray hair, a bandage over one eye, and raggedy clothes that hung off her bony form like torn curtains on a dead tree. She had many bottles of liquids and powders, hand-labeled like the wares of an ancient apothecary, and they all looked at least a little bit menacing.

"...uh huh..." Hilde's eyes ballooned as a man walked past with a caged snake, and it hissed at her as it was carried by. She jumped and clung harder. "So you're, uh...buying someone a present?" she asked with a quiver in her voice.

"More like a present for myself," Wufei said with a grin much similar to the snake's. "But it'll be a surprise for Treize, make no mistake." He made single eye contact with the old woman behind the table. "What have you got there?"

"Poisons," the woman hissed, waving her hands over her collection like a gypsy mystic. She sounded crackly and raspy, as if she was miming to a phonograph recording of herself. "Many mixtures from the four corners of the globe. Choose your weapon, and I'll give you my price."

Hilde squeaked. "Is it his birthday or something?" she asked, sounding awfully nervous to be making such benign conversation. She pointed across Wufei's line of sight to a harmless-looking ebony rod with an engraved silver ball on top. "How about that nice walking stick?"

Wufei walked over, picked up the walking stick in both hands, and pulled it apart to reveal a long, thin sword hidden inside, which he admired. Hilde squeaked again. Nothing in this place was safe. "Hmm...nice," Wufei mused, "but I've got plenty of swords already. I need something..._special_ for what I have planned." The serpentine smile scared Hilde even more than the deadly walking stick did, and she let go of his arm to stand alone with her arms wrapped around her, looking in all directions for potential threats. This was just the sort of place from which a young girl like herself could be carried off in a sack and never heard from again. It was the sort of place she made a point to avoid during her life on the streets, just on the strength of rumours alone. A lingering hope in the back of her mind told her that Wufei would protect her if anything went wrong, but he looked awfully preoccupied.

"Can I interest you in some cyanide?" the woman offered, holding up a vial of white powder with her bony fingers.

"No, too quick," the boy said as he set the walking stick back down. He walked back up to the woman with his hands suspended before him, squinting and looking up as he tried to describe his beautiful dream. "I want...I want something _painful_, but not messy. I have blades galore, but I don't much care for firearms...maybe thumbscrews, or a nice medieval nostalgia piece, like.....what are those tables that stretch a body out in four directions?"

Hilde inched away from him. "A rack?"

"Thank you," Wufei said, smiling that serpentine smile at her again. He turned back the old woman. "Thumbscrews, or a rack. Do you have anything like that?"

The old woman rubbed her chin, which had a mole with two coarse hairs sticking out of it. "Hmm...special order...wouldn't be able to get it to you for several weeks...plus danger money for transporting something so large..."

Wufei seemed disappointed and perched a hand on his hip, scowling. "Look, I'm trying to wreak horrible, unspeakable vengeance on the man who slaughetered my soul mate. Maybe you can suggest something."

Wagging a finger in the air and seeming to recall another special order that someone had asked for and then never picked up, the woman ducked under the table. "Perhaps you might find these to your liking..." She shuffled around and then popped up with a cubical metal cage made of a fine wire mesh, about ten inches on each side with a little handle on top. The inside was black, but the black was moving, crawling around with hundreds of tiny little legs. Hilde stared at the cage with a bubbling sensation of excess stomach acid gurgling up her throat, and she made a squeamish face of terror and miscellaneous ickyness. "..._poisonous spiders_," the woman crowed proudly. "Tie your subject down and let these little darlings crawl where they will, stinging and biting and wriggling an--"

"_Excuse me, I need some air,_" Hilde blurted out, and she dashed clear out of the underground market with a hand over her mouth, in case her breakfast tried to make a return appearance.

The old woman lowered the cage of spiders, clasping it casually with both hands, and shot a heavy-lidded look at Wufei. The boy merely shrugged. "She _wanted_ to come, it wasn't _my_ idea!" The woman said nothing.

Outside, Hilde sat down on the curb while a light drizzle began to fall and took deep, cleansing breaths to overcome her revulsion. Lately she was seeing her sweet Wufei in a startling new light, one that was much less flattering. He didn't seemed bothered that Quatre was gone, or that Heero had lost his job and was potentially the number one man on Lord Jeffrhyss' hit list, or any other woe that was plaguing her friends. All he could think about was Treize, Treize, Treize, and it was starting to get on her nerves. About ten minutes after her emergence, Wufei turned up next to her, sitting on the curb as well with a curious frown, as if he really couldn't fathom what her problem was. "What's with you?" he barked unsympathetically.

"You don't find that place the _least_ bit revolting?"

Again, Wufei shrugged. "Can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs..."

Hilde nodded. So he _did_ recognize that she was in distress--he just didn't care. "Can you get revenge out of your mind for five minutes so we can talk?" A third and final shrug turned into a full body readjustment as Wufei sulked in preparation for being chastised yet again. Hilde forced herself to smile while she did it, but her voice slowly went from calm at the start to hysterical at the finish. "You've been through a lot of heartbreak in your short life, and I understand that...and you also have a very firey, very _powerful_ personality, and I understand that. But I also need _you_ to understand that I can't take much more of hiking through the gutters of London looking for new ways to torture the object of your rage when all I want is a safe home, a decent job, and a nice friend I can turn to when I have a disagreement with somebody who won't immediately suggest putting poison spiders down their pants!!"

Wufei's eyes lit up at the mention of pants. "Good idea..."

"Stop that!" Hilde snapped, whacking him in the shoulder. "It's all you can think about, isn't it!? Poor Quatre's out there somewhere, probably alone and scared, and you don't even care! The others have been working overtime trying to figure out where he is and how to reach him, and you can't be bothered!"

"Don't be naive!" Wufei shot back. "If that bleeding heart blond wanted to go, then let him stay gone!"

"But we don't know _what_ he wanted! He could be in trouble!" She waited for any tiny sign that any of these things were making an impact on the boy, but nothing seemed to have any effect. The girl deflated considerably. "I can tell you're not interested. Sorry for taking up so much of your time." Disappointed, she pushed herself up off the curb, wiped what might have been light rainwater off her cheek, and walked away. It hurt even worse when Wufei didn't try to stop her.

He stayed on the curb for awhile with his arms sternly folded, and what the girl obviously couldn't have realised was that he was fiercely trying not to accept the hurt he had caused her. Wasteful emotions such as guilt and regret could only cloud his goals, and he couldn't afford to lose sight of Treize when he was so close to making his move. Distractions were unforgivable. Once again resolved that he was in the right, he stood up proudly and left the dingy neighbourhood, without having made any significant purchases, but still with a clear sense of purpose. Soon, he would decide on the proper punishment for his nemesis, and his retribution would be fierce.

The delicious thought of his vengeance kept his spirits high all the way back to the pub, where, if Hilde couldn't get through to him, fate certainly was more than able. When he went up to his room, unlocked the door and stepped inside, he finally saw something that made his blood boil. His entire collection of swords, knives and daggers, which had decorated the walls with both artistic and sadistic flair, was missing.

**********  
  


Quatre was continually amazed at the collective incompetence of his captors. If he had been in charge of minding a prisoner, he would have made damn sure that there was no weak point in the room, and that no assistance from external implements such as posh silverware would be allowed inside. Still, he said constant prayers of thanks that Lady Une was so overconfident as to leave him alone for hours with forks and knives, with which he had succesfully cut an eighteen-inch hole into the wall of the linen cupboard.

He wiped beads of sweat off his brow and looked at his progress. The other side of the wall was indeed a mirror image linen closet, and he was able to reach through the hole and dislodge the flimsy shelves without too much trouble. He then did a test-crawl through the hole to make sure he could fit, removed the rest of the empty shelves, and opened the door a crack to reveal another room, not much different from his own, only darker and dustier. He was almost ready to make his move, but first, he had to finish off a few vital tasks.

For the past three days, he had taken only a little food from his meal trays, the sort of thing that wouldn't rot or go stale, like biscuits and crackers, and squirreled it away in the closet, wrapped in old newspaper. He also made certain that he was tucked in bed with the covers over his head, to make it appear to his captors that he was depressed and not eating very much. In fact, he wasn't eating at all, to keep up the illusion. He had to save the small bits of food for later, and also had to make it look like he was more or less on a hunger strike. Lady Une never came up to check on him, though, so she either didn't know or didn't care. In the next phase of his plan, Quatre curled up in bed, drew the covers over his head yet again, and waited for the delivery of his lunch.

Footsteps were heard, and the armed butler arrived with a young assistant who dealt with the trays, exchanging the untouched breakfast for a destined-to-be-untouched lunch, and they left with the same lack of ceremony they always did. Quatre could feel the butler's eyes looking at the lump of his form under the blankets, but he held his breath and didn't move. Within a minute, they left him alone with a fresh tray of food, and the time was finally right to put his plan into action. As soon as their footsteps faded, he got up, crept over to the closet, cralwed through to the other room where there was another small bed, and took its pillows, ramming them back through the hole in the wall before crawling back in himself. With the added pillows, he was able to make a very convincing lump that he hoped would fool the butler for the short-term future, and having set a precedent for not eating, it wouldn't arouse suspicion when the lump stopped consuming food altogether. 

Next, he took his paper bundle of food rations, added to it a bit from the lunch tray, tied it up tightly with a bit of string and secure the string to his belt, and then took the wooden shelves out from under the bed, the ones he had earlier removed from the closet. He had even saved the nails he was able to pry out with his fork, and took the lot back into the closet with him. He carefully replaced half of the nails, the ones he wouldn't be able to reach from the other side of the hole, crawled through, replaced the rest of the nails, and spent a good half hour trying to get the shelves back in place to disguise his tampering. Amazingly, he succeeded, and propped more shelves from the other closet up against the hole so that even if the light was on in one room, it wasn't likely to permeate into the other. That left him standing in a brand-new part of the attic, his hunger pangs being forced back by pure adrenalin.

He stopped in front of the door to the new room and stared at it. Now, if he was very careful and extremely fortunate, he could hide from room to room, inching his way downstairs and hopefully out an unguarded window. It could work. It had to work. Quatre rubbed his hands together and prepared to open the door.

**********  
  


Heero had been in command of his little cabal of spies long enough to have a pretty optimistic view of the force he was trying to create. He envisioned an elite group with the skills, strength, and ingenuity to outwit any enemy they came across, all in the name of the greater good. In a relatively short space of time, his dream team had been reduced to three boys who weren't getting enough sleep, and that was distressing. Trowa had finally made the grand announcement that he thought he might know where Quatre was, but Hilde had gone into her room and shut the door, Sally was unreachable, Lucrezia had defected to the other side, and Wufei was incommunicado for some reason. They had all been getting along so well together that Heero couldn't understand how things had fallen apart so quickly. Nevertheless, he and Duo walked quickly alongside Trowa as they got out of a carriage a block from Lady Une's and crept up on the mansion.

"...and I'm sure he knew it was wrong to hide it from you, but Dorothy just wasn't co-operating, and the whole plan to bring back details about Treize's dealings was _already_ ruined," Trowa explained as the trio marched hastily across the dampened pavement. "Dorothy is the key, and she always has been, but neither one of us could get her to surface. I even tried calling the house and pretending that she'd won prize money by being the 1000th customer at some dress shop I made up, and even _that_ couldn't get her to the phone. She's hiding something big, and it _has_ to be Quatre."

"How do you propose we get inside to check?" asked Heero.

"I haven't figured that out yet, but we can at least scope the place out and--"

"Guys..." Duo had stopped walking only a moment before and was frozen solid where he stood. He was looking all the way down the road, far past the front gate of Lady Une's, where another carriage had stopped and was letting off several passengers. Six figures exited from the vehicle, dressed in dark clothes with their heads partially covered. The last of the six was the tallest, an imposing woman with flowing dark brown hair who glanced all around and gathered the other girls into a tight knot like a mother hen guarding her chicks. Duo found something very familiar about the bunch, and as soon as Heero and Trowa stopped long enough to have a look as well, they saw it too.

Trowa blinked. "That looks like..."

"...Yasmeen," Heero finished for him.

Down at the other end of the street, the girls sent their carriage away, and it turned down a sidestreet and stopped after passing the boys' position, where it was apparently waiting for them to finish whatever they came to do. On her second visual sweep of the neighbourhood, Yasmeen spotted the trio, and hushed her sisters, who all looked in the same direction, then looked at each other. Then, the tall woman began walking bravely forward, and with a suspicious glare, Heero did the same. The two miniature tribes met in the middle, just a hundred feet or so away from Lady Une's front gate. They all stared at each other, Yasmeen more mistrustfully than anyone. "Hello..." she ventured.

"Out for a stroll?" Heero asked. The question was made infinitely more sarcastic after the clear observation that the girls were all armed with swords and daggers, hanging at their hips, strapped to their arms and thighs over tight-fitting clothes, and in a few cases, already in their hands. Something was definitely up.

Yasmeen squinted. "Maybe...if _you_ are..."

"...no particular reason why you picked this neighbourhood, and those...'accessories' to stroll with?"

"What exactly are you saying!?" the girl snapped suddenly.

Duo and Trowa flinched and leaned back a little, uncertain of where this abrupt anger was coming from, but Heero just switched tactics. He searched the half-dozen girls for the face he thought, after past observations, would be the most pliable by subversion, found it, and smiled. "Adeela," he purred, picking the bubbly young brunette out of the crowd and walking her away from the others with an overly-friendly arm around her waist. "You know, I've missed you...and your lovely dancing too. We should spend some time getting to know each other better. Would you like to start by telling me what's going on?"

"Don't tell him anything!" Yasmeen shouted to her sister. "We know all about your ways of extracting information, Heero, and it's not going to work!"

Heero frowned. Adeela giggled from flattery and kissed his cheek briefly. "Maybe later," she said before skipping back to her siblings. Shrugging with his eyebrows, the butler followed.

"I'll save you the trouble of propositioning the rest of us," the eldest sister growled. "Come on, girls..." With that, she spun around, satisfied that the unhelpful boys weren't going to follow.

Trowa, however, wasn't about to give up as easily as that. "You're going after him, aren't you? He's in there, isn't he!?" Duo and Heero stood off to the side while Trowa marched right up to the woman, challenging her. He seemed to know what he was doing.

All the girls were looking at Yasmeen, waiting for an indication of whether or not they could be nice to the boys. Yasmeen glared at Trowa for quite some time before perching a hand on the hilt of her sword and leaning towards him. "If you mean, is our brother hidden away in one of these houses, perhape he is...not that I would have any reason to tell you if he were."

"What's that supposed to mean!?"

"I am _really_ very upset at every one of you!" Yasmeen yelled in her delicate accent, pointing an enraged finger at each of the boys in turn. "Quatre has been missing for weeks and all his friends have done is sit on their backsides waiting for him to come home!"

"That's not true," Heero stepped in. "We've been pestering the police on a daily basis, and we've been all over this city on foot, asking--"

"While you've been wasting valuable time, we've actually been doing something useful!" said Kamal, the auburn-haired spiritualist with many beaded braids. "Not only is Quatre in _that_ house," she continued, pointing at Une's mansion, "but we have also determined that he is being held in _that_ room!" She finished by moving her arm to indicate a tiny window near the upper-left-most corner of the house, in the attic.

"Oh yeah?" Duo scoffed, not liking their overconfident attitude one bit. "How do you figure?"

"We've seen him!" said Hessa enthusiastically, flipping the dark cowl back from her platinum blonde head and brushing a few loose strands back under a green headband. "From inside the house on the other side of the street!"

The boys looked across the street at an equally opulent mansion that directly faced Lady Une's. It was not totally inconceivable to imagine that a person standing at an upper floor window of that house could peer into the upper floor window of another house, but still, Heero glanced back at the girls in disbelief. "How did you get in there?"

"We have our ways," Yasmeen muttered through tight lips. "Now, if you'll excuse us..." She and her team turned on their collective heel and began marching on the estate, but Heero ran a head and stopped in front of them.

"What are you doing? Are you just going to walk up and knock on the door?" he asked incredulously.

"Not...exactly," said Yasmeen, "but if you're curious about our methods, I suggest you keep well back. This is _my_ operation, and I'm not having it fouled up by anyone who isn't in the program!"

The girls all brushed past Heero and jogged up to the mansion, bold and carefree as they made their move in broad daylight. The boys gathered in a clump and watched helplessly as Quatre's sisters took up scattered positions around the house, in preparation for the biggest heist that neighbourhood had ever seen. None of them knew what to do, and they stood looking at each other for several seconds until finally, they silently agreed and followed the girls into the fray.

**********  
  


Inside Lady Une's mansion, it was anything but a normal day. They were entertaining a visitor, someone who once publicly vowed never to set foot in that particular house after the owner's behaviour at her father's funeral. In the finest parlour, with tea and fancy finger cakes and itty bitty sandwiches with the crusts removed, Lady Une, Treize, and Dorothy were entertaining Relena Peacecraft.

The two resident ladies sat opposite Relena on a lovely pink French revolution sofa, while Treize milled about with a piece of paper in his hand, and the other hand in his pocket. Relena, strangely enough, looked just as calm and confident as all of them put together. Faced with her traitorous former friend, her scheming uncle, and the catty cow who always delighted in making her life a misery, she was oddly serene, sitting up comfortably straight in the matching pink chair and daintily picking away at some petit-fours with a miniscule fork and an embroidered napkin tucked underneath her plate, which was raised to chest level. As a matter of fact, she was quite enjoying the position, for this time it was _their_ turn to squirm and crawl as they tried to persuade her over to their way of thinking.

"See this?" Treize asked, on one of his many broad circuits around Relena's chair, holding up the piece of paper. "It's the short list of candidates to join Cinq, after the undesirables were eliminated. I'm on it. And your brother's on it. That likely means that you have an identical list sitting on a shelf somewhere at home."

Relena's expression didn't change, except for slight and very ladylike approval of the treats they were feeding her. "We do," she said in a sing-song voice.

"And, as I'm sure you've already had a quick glance at it," Treize continued, "there are some pretty impressive names included."

Still looking down at her plate, interested more in the meal than this speech, Relena shrugged. "I wouldn't know."

The Count saw that he wasn't getting through to his niece, and so he pulled up a pink Ottoman, right up to her chair, and sat down on it, leaning into her sphere of personal space but not blocking the other girls' view of her. "Let me try and explain something to you," he declared with purpose. "Alright, your brother put on a clever little show for the assembly, and maybe he impressed one or two people with his charm and wit, but it's going to take a _lot_ more than that to best _me_ for the top position."

"He knows what he's talking about, dear," said Dorothy as she sipped her tea and ran a hand through her hair. She had only found out about Treize's secret motivations recently, and was taking it rather well. "I'd just _hate_ to see you get hurt in all this, so I highly suggest you take his advice."

Relena looked up from her plate, slowly, and with a confident gaze that hadn't gotten much practice travelling around her face. "And what advice would that be?" she asked sweetly, directly at her uncle.

"Tell your brother to back off," said the Count. "It's for your own good, believe me. You may have money, and a bit of influence, and a few friends around Europe...but it's not enough. This isn't some rich man's party game you're trying to nose into, this is a _war_...and you have no army. Nothing gets done without troops taking orders. You can't keep pulling favours from friendly acquaintances and expect to get ahead of those candidates who have been amassing loyal followers for _years_."

Though she didn't let it show, Relena knew that he had an unfortunate point. It was just her, Milliardo, and Otto against the likes of the Count, who had so vast a network of spies and assassins that he managed to wipe out most of their extended family before the reading of her father's will. Having no battallion to command did leave her at a significant disadvantage, but it wasn't so large that it could scare her and her brother off into a dark corner. "Suggestion noted," she said.

"Oh, don't be so stubborn!" Lady Une piped up while smoothing out the skirt of her dress. "We're only thinking of what's best for you! One would think you'd be a little more appreci--"

Somewhere in the house, there was the sound of glass breaking. The parlour froze, along with everyone inside it. Scuffling noises followed, and then little screeches of fright emanating from the female staff members going about their business several rooms away. Lady Une rose and quickly went to the parlour door, throwing it open to demand an immediate explanation for all the noise and shouting. Something outside the door made her squeak with fright, however, and she slammed the parlour door shut again, locking it and rushing to stand behind Treize. No sooner did she arrive there than someone tried the door handle, and Treize and Dorothy were both yelling at once for Une to tell them what she saw. Soon enough, however, what she saw kicked the door clean open, and stalked into the room without an invitation.

The intruder was a tall, slender woman with flowing dark brown hair and a steely gaze that passed over each of the faces of the people in the parlour. A split second later, two other girls, seemingly identical, rushed in and went straight to the two persons who were still seated, and grabbed them up out of their chairs. Dorothy and Relena were quickly hauled upright, and each had a dagger placed at their throats, all while the taller girl supervised. She focused her attention on Treize and Lady Une, whom she had previously identified as the primary residents, and closed in on them. "Your treachery against my family ends here," she growled.

Behind her, in the open hallway, three more girls were shouting commands to each other and taking hostages of their own as they fought to secure the house. Dorothy couldn't help whimpering like the fragile flower she told herself to be, but Relena stayed perfectly calm, reasoning that if these women were angry at Treize, then the enemy of their enemy might not get her throat slit right away. Treize was much less sympathetic. "I beg your pardon!" he bellowed. "You have exactly until the end of this sentence to get out of this house before we call the police!"

"Go on!" Yasmeen challenged, unsheathing her long, oriental sword and pointing it squarely in the middle of the man's chest. "Call them! Let them see that you've been holding our brother prisoner!"

More shouting was emitted from beyond the parlour door, and Relena was very much intrigued by the whole affair. The girls were impressive in the speed and efficiency with which they forced their way into the house and secured its owner; it was the sort of thing a small personal army would do, if they were ordered to do it, and Treize did mention that if the Peacecrafts wanted to remain competitive, they would need an army...

"This is pathetic!" Treize laughed. "You have no idea what you're up against in this house! None of you will make it out with your arms and legs attached!"

"Just because you managed to capture _one_ of us, don't imagine we can be toppled as a unit so easily!" the girl shot back, still levelling her sword at the man's heart.

Indeed, the girls had underestimated the state of the mansion's defenses somewhat. While Yasmeen, Nashida, and Asalah were relatively secure in the parlour, Hassa, Kamal and Adeela were running through the rest of the house, looking for a way upstairs. They all had swords in their hands, and waved them wildly about whenever various members of the staff came near, one of whom must certainly have called the authorities by then. Time was short. Hessa led the other two through the maze that was the ground floor and came upon a grand staircase with sweeping banisters, which they ran towards across the slippery marble floor. Hurling themselves up the red velveteen steps, they were halfway to the second floor when the odds against them changed. A balding Englishman in a dark suit was walking briskly down the stairs, having been alerted by the shouting, and he held a small revolver in one hand, pointed at the girls. Hessa stopped suddenly, causing Adeela and Kamal to crash into her from behind, and they were forced to scatter in three directions looking for another way up to Quatre's cell. The butler chose one of the girls at random and followed her, jogging and shouting for her to halt and place her weapons on the floor.

Back at the side of the house, where two of the sisters had made their forced entry, the boys were helping each other through the broken window, avoiding broken glass still sticking out of the frame and especially avoiding the panicky housemaids who were still clinging to each other from fright. The boys looked around quickly, decided they were in some sort of laundry room, and quickly ran out into the hall, listening to the screeches and shouts, trying to figure out where the bulk of the action was taking place. When they got to the front hall, with its massive stone columns and opulent tapestries, Trowa went one way, and Heero and Duo went another. There seemed to be ruckus in all directions, a chaotic morass which couldn't be discerned except by seeing it first hand.

Duo and Heero found themselves crashing through random doors and surprising more than a few jittery servants as they searched for the sisters, knowing that a horde of police constables were likely already on their way. As they ran through a hall which they thought might take them to the back of the house, a more immediate concern than the police surfaced right in front of them, in the form of two burly brutes who stopped, looked the intruders over, and then walked menacingly towards them.

Duo swallowed, half-smiling. "...heh..."

Heero elbowed him. "Nothing you can't handle."

The reminder sank into Duo's brain only moments before the larger of the two thugs took a swing at him, which he expertly deflected without consciously thinking about it. The other thug went after Heero, and since the hallways were so much more spacious and luxuriant than at Bridlewood, there was ample room for all four of them to fight without scuffing the wallpaper. Duo and Heero worked in a perfect tandem, timing their blows so that the thugs couldn't possibly both have eyes to attack with at the same time, and occasionally hitting each other's targets for good measure. In a matter of seconds, it was all over. First one thug and then the other went down from a final blow to the head, out for the count. Duo and Heero grinned and shook hands, sharing the victory for only a moment before moving on in their hasty search.

All the while, the object of the fuss was slowly making his way from one empty room to the next, tip-toeing all the way out of the attic and down one level, until he was hiding in an unidentifiable room with dust covers on all the furnishings. Quatre was so hungry and light-headed that he had already broken into his emergency rations and eaten three cookies, but it was either that or collapse from hunger and start all over when they found him and took him back to his room. As he got closer to the next staircase, however, sounds of the meleé came trickling up from the lower floors, and it became clear to him that something was amiss. At first, he feared for his safety, if perhaps burglars had invaded the house, but then quickly thought that he might turn it into an opportunity to escape unnoticed, if he could just make it down two more flights and out a window or something.

Things were going less and less smoothly downstairs. After rounding the wrong corner at the wrong time, Trowa and Kamal slammed directly into one another and fell, nearly tripping the butler as he chased the auburn-haired girl. Duo and Heero had gotten themselves lost in the cavernous castle and were trying to retrace their steps. Adeela and Hessa had each found a different stairwell pointing upwards, but Adeela fell afoul of the footman and the valet, who picked her up by an arm each and carried her tiny form back down the stairs, her little feet pinwheeling madly a foot or so off the ground. The line of attack was cut down to Hessa alone, and armed with a peculiar jewelled saber with which she was still unfamiliar, she bounded around the upper floors energetically, searching for the magic combination of steps and passages that would take her to the attic.

Only a few rooms away, on the third floor, Quatre was huddled behind the door of a guest bedroom, listening to something coming closer and closer, something that was fearlessly flinging open every door along the way. It was becoming less and less safe to be where he was, but there was nowhere to go. It was a very long drop out the window to the ground below, and the guest room had only one exit. The bed didn't even have a long, draping bedspread on it, the kind that could hide a person underneath the bed completely. The unknown force was coming closer. If there was any hope of freeing himself, he would have to get past this person and do it right, else he might be locked away under more draconian methods than before. Looking around the sun-lit room, he saw a fireplace, with the usual accessories, a steel poker among them. He rushed over, grabbed the poker, tipping over all the other implements in the process, raised it over his head, and prepared to charge the door just as it was flung open from the other side.

As the two combatants saw a momentarily-threatening flash of colour and movement, they rushed towards each other with their weapons held high, each hollering a makeshift battle cry. A moment before it was too late, there was a second flash, one of mutual recognition, and they froze just in time, dropping their metal implements and staring in disbelief.

"..._Hessa_!!" Quatre shouted gleefully after a good long gaze. "What are you _doing_ here?"

Her eyes already tearing up, Hessa just rushed forward and gave her brother a giant bear hug. "We've come to get you out of here," she said, and then she stepped back and clasped his hand tightly. "Now, come on, we haven't got much time!" Quatre didn't argue, and the two of them raced hand-in-hand down the stairs, while Hessa shouted a signal to her siblings. Upon hearing the signal in the parlour, Yasmeen started to back up towards the door slowly, but before she could reach the door to give the all-clear to the twins, who still held Dorothy and Relena with razor-sharp blades, three servants entered, Une's snooty butler included, bearing Kamal, Adeela, and Trowa. The butler kept them in check with a pearl-handled revolver, something none of them had anticipated. Yasmeen's face fell as she saw her plans coming apart at the seams. The butler was framed in the doorway, and since he was the only one who could inflict damage at a distance, the sisters' swords were beaten. "Everybody to the centre of the room, please," he ordered.

"Well done, Eldrick," Une praised her faithful one, and she watched very proudly as the twins released their hostages and joined the others in forming a clump inside the circle of the three-piece suite. Dorothy and Relena rubbed their throats as a reflex action and moved away from the rogues, but by now, Relena was desperate to know why Trowa was among them. He was popping up in the most extraordinary places lately. Yasmeen just stared at the floor. According to the plan, Hessa and Quatre were out the back door and probably over the fence by now, but at what cost?

"The authorities will be along shortly, m'lady," Eldrick the butler continued, his Derringer expertly trained on the bunch.

Before Une could praise him again however, something happened that any con artist would have been proud of. Heero crept up behind the butler unnanounced and dropped a book of matches on the floor at the man's feet. Eldrick instinctively looked down at the noise, during which distraction Heero tapped him pleasantly on the shoulder and said, "Oh, excuse me," to make him look up, a second before socking him in the jaw, hard. Eldrick went down like a giant sack of potatoes, and the clump of Quatre's friends all dashed out of the room at once, leaping over the butler's prone form like a flock of gazelles. Duo was waiting for them down the hall and showed them the quickest way out the back door and into the next neighbourhood, and Heero stayed behind for a moment longer, soaking up the stares of shock and confusion.

Relena was the first to recover the power of speech, and her eyes met Heero's in a mutual blaze of surprise and bewilderment. She folded her hands in front of her and huffed out a sigh. "Do you have a hand in _everything_ surreal that happend on God's earth??"

Heero backed up slowly through the parlour doorway, shrugging. "It only looks that way sometimes...really." Without knowing why, he had a rather guilty look as he left out the back garden with the others.

Once he was gone, Relena turned around, cordially picked up her near-empty plate, plucked the last of the little frosted cakes off of it, and handed it to Lady Une, who received it as prim and properly as a good hostess could. "Thank you for the tea, and the advice, but I think I shall have to make up my own mind about things. And now, if you'll excuse me, it's a long train ride back to Southhampton." She showed herself out, stepping daintily over Eldrick and leaving by the front door, just as the police were arriving. A pity for them, there was no longer anyone to arrest.

**********  
  


Once he was back where he belonged, Quatre was overwhelmed by the well-wishing that went on just for him. Otto made a small note of the boy's reappearance and vanished into the study without comment, but everyone else was over the moon for the boy's safe return. As nice as this reception was, however, he was disturbed by two things. One was Heero's inability to share in the celebration, since he wasn't to set foot in the manor ever again, it seemed, and the other was the state of his own hair. After most of the party had broken up, he excused himself to the garden shed where a secret bottle lay hidden among the potting soils. It was a mixture several of his family used to disguise themselves from Hassan when the tontine was made official, and with a few drops onto an old towel, vigorously rubbed into the scalp, Quatre quickly transformed completely into his old self, erasing the slightly dark roots that had emerged during his captivity. The process took just long enough for his clothes to soak up the smell of the horses, which would cover up the chemical smell of the secret mixture, at which point he rejoined the household, hoping nobody would notice the change. The first thing he did when he got back inside was seek out Duo.

"Tell me again how Heero lost his job," he said quietly when he finally found him cleaning up after dinner. "I don't think I understood you the first time."

"That's because Otto might've been listening," said Duo. "There's a long story behind it, but I can't tell you right now, 'cause I'm about to go out." Indeed, he was cleaning up in an awful hurry, and made for his coat almost immediately afterwards.

"Oh..." Quatre couldn't imagine where Duo could be going at such a late hour, but it wasn't for him to question. "Well, come find me when you get back, and we'll talk about it over cocoa."

Duo cringed when he was halfway into his coat, and sucked in some air through his clenched teeth. "I, uh...won't be back until the morning. I'm...going to go see Heero tonight."

"Why?" Quatre asked immediately, and when he didn't get an immediate answer, he probed a few inches into Duo's psyche, just far enough to possibly see what he was in such a hurry over. What he felt was warm and pleasant, and he couldn't believe he hadn't noticed it in the past few hours. He blushed and smiled. "Oh. Sure...don't keep him waiting," he added, backing up a few paces.

Duo was naturally confused at the knowing glance Quatre seemed to be giving him, but grinned anyway. "Thanks. Anyway...Trowa knows more about what happened than I did. He'll be glad to give you the blow-by-blow account, I'm sure."

Quatre nodded, and the pair said their goodbyes with promises to carry greetings to those who couldn't be there to receive them first-hand. It was dark out when Duo left, and having been placed on a strict budget by the curmudgeon Otto, he had to walk most of the way to the pub, but hitched unknown lifts on the backs of carriages once in awhile, just enough so as not to get caught. When he got there, the pub was insanely busy, and the customers were talking amongst themselves about the restaurant being mysteriously understaffed. As Duo inched past the door to the kitchen on his way to the stairs, he found out the reason why.

"...not an unreasonable employer, am I? I'm approchable, aren't I? If you _needed_ some time off for personal matters, you could have come and _asked_ me!" Catherine had her six most valuable workers lined up in their cornflower blue dresses, and was apparently admonishing them for taking off for the day and not informing her. All six of Quatre's sisters stood with their hands folded and their eyes lowered, happy to be taking their punishment for a worthy cause. Duo suppressed a snicker as Catherine continued pacing back and forth, slapping the palm of one hand with the knuckles of the other as she lectured. "From now on, no more than two of you can take the same day off, and then only with a week's notice so I can find temporary help, got that?"

"Yes, Miss," the six answered solemnly. Duo's snicker surfaced a bit as he passed the kitchen and padded up the stairs.

Just as he reached the top, the doors to the front of the pub burst open, and another familiar voice cut through the din. "Everybody out of the way! Policemen coming through! Back up, give us some room, one side!" It was a snide, self-important voice that could only have belonged to Wufei, and he was apparently being followed closely by two uniformed constables. Duo panicked. They couldn't see him going into Heero's door! He only had moments to think--they were coming up the stairs, all three of them. Duo dashed around in a dither until he spotted a free-standing coat rack at the end of the hall with lots of coats on it. He zipped down past a half-dozen doors and swung the coat rack in front of him, just as Wufei and the policemen rounded the corner at the top of the stairs and headed down to the old wing. "It took you people long enough, I called _hours_ ago!" the Chinese boy whined.

"Cawn't be ev'rywhere at once, sir," one of the policemen said tiredly.

"Fine, fine...just so long as you know, I've been in a _great_ amount of distress...not that either of you care..." Wufei jammed his key angrily into the lock, swung open his door, and led the men inside, where he was met with his second terrible shock of the day.

The constables looked around the room, looked at each other, and sighed. "And which collection of swords _was_ it that you had nicked, sir?" the second one said in an arrogant voice.

Wufei stared in disbelief. His entire collection of deadly weaponry, down to the very last dagger, had been returned. They were in exactly the same racks on the walls as they had been when he left to go shopping early that morning. He shook his head slowly. "This...this has to be a mistake!"

"I'd call it wasting police time, sir," the first one corrected.

"But they were gone a few hours ago! Every last one of them was gone, I swear it!!"

Again, the constables looked at each other and rolled their eyes. "Well, sir...maybe someone's taken 'em out for a spring clean wi'out tellin' ya." With that, the policemen turned and left, and it was a miracle they didn't charge Wufei for filing a false claim of theft. Wufei, for his part, could only stand paralysed in the middle of his room with both hands clamped over his ears and his eyes bulging, shaking his head and telling himself over and over that he wasn't going mad. At the other end of the hall, behind the coat rack, Duo took the approximate number of swords and knives in Wufei's arsenal, added to it six desperate sisters, came up with a hilarious number and slipped into Heero's room to tell him all about it.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Seventy-Nine: Relena has a brainstorm about her brother's requirements to join Cinq, and looks for the appropriate staff members to fill some key positions._

*yeek* Sorry for the delay, weather and all that. =^_^;= I'll keep this short, because it's my night to do dishes. Next episode will be on April 17th, so mark those calendars!


	79. Invasion Force

  
  


**Warning:** A bit of gooey shounen-ai-ness.

**Disclaimer:** If the Easter Bunny gives anyone any chocolate pilots, I wanna know about it. =P (Oh, and, all the best characters in this story were made by someone else, darnit. So don't sue me.)

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Seventy-Nine: Invasion Force

_"There are two kinds of men who never amount to much; those who cannot do what they are told, and those who can do nothing else." ~Cyrus Curtis _

April 17th, 1903

          _Duo, my precious,_

          It's been so long since you've written back to me, and I'm more and more afraid for you with every day that passes. I beg of you, don't go on with this life of sin you've chosen. If it's too difficult to make up your mind on your own, I'll help you...after all these years, you must know I'd give up everything to help my sweet little potato dumpling. I only want what's best for you, can you understand that? I love you so very dearly, Duo. You're the reason I'm getting my health back, and to show that I'm serious, I'm coming to London to visit you, and to talk to you about your 'little problem.' I can't wait to see your darling smile in person again. Take care of yourself, my little angel, and be good.

All my love,           

Helen           

**********  
  


          What was left of the 'original' staff of Bridlewood were in a bit of a disagreement about the changes happening around the manor. Elsie, having served in more than one household for many years, had seen servants come and servants go, and it was simply a way of life. The business of tending to the needs of the wealthy was all about hiring and firing, and not about making lifelong friends, in her opinion. Doris and Bethany were rather disappointed that Heero had been let go, now that they were finally used to his laid-back style of household governance, but they weren't about to quit in protest over it. Trowa, Quatre, Hilde, and especially Duo, felt stuck.

          They envied Arthur in that he could lead a comfortable life on his own at the back property line no matter what went on in the house. None of them had the luxury of telling Otto what they thought of him while the country was still mired in an unemployment crisis, so at Heero's urging, the four of them grudgingly held their tongues and kept their jobs.

          Now the staff was being gathered in the kitchen to welcome some new arrivals. The seven remaining regulars stood around in a glob in the middle of the kitchen, chatting, drinking coffee, and reading magazines until Otto marched downstairs with his usual stern expression and barked at them to get in line. Then he wasn't happy with the arrangement of the line and shuffled them around in order of authority, placing Duo between Elsie and Bethany and leaving the outdoor boys down at the end somewhere. Otto was picking at and straightening their uniforms all the while, shaking his head at Duo's denims, which had integrated themselves into his work clothes somehow. When the big bear stalked back up the stairs for a moment, the servants dared to whisper amongst themselves.

          "What do you suppose he's up to?"

          "Must be new people arrivin' t'day."

          "We've been doing fine on our own, haven't we?"

          "I don't care who they are, I _know_ I'm not gonna like 'em."

          "What's taking him so long?"

          Magically summoned, Otto came plunking back down the stairs with, not one or two, but _five_ new employees in tow. They filed in after him and formed a second line, directly across from the first, and those who were bold enough began to look over their new co-workers, silently judging them. There was a tallish, dignified-looking man of about thiry with tautly-combed black hair and a matching moustache, an equally tall woman with straight, shoulder-length hair of such a bright red that it made everyone's eyes hurt, a pair of girls in their early twenties, one plump and dark-skinned with her hair pulled back into a bun, and the other pale, thin, and a bit horse-faced with short, stringy hair that didn't seem to have any colour at all. The fifth was a sandy-haired boy of roughly sixteen, who kept looking the younger members of staff up and down, oddly.

          "I'll make this as brief as possible," said Otto, as stiff-necked and authoritarian as ever. "We have some new additions to the staff today, and I'll expect you all to behave appropriately towards them."

          As Otto stepped towards the moustached man, the man stepped forward automatically, hands behind him and nose in the air like he was the king of France. He wore an elegant and quite costly-looking black suit, like the kind Heero used to wear, only posher, and the way he looked down his nose at the others gave the distinct impression that he was doing Otto a favour by being there at all. Otto introduced him as Bertram Augustus Something-or-other, a ghastly, hyphenated surname that sounded like it had entirely too many 'F's in it. There was a lengthy dissertation about the previous houses he had served in, references from other wealthy families, and the credentials he had collected over his fourteen-year career as a professional servant. When it was all finished, Bertram Augustus gave a curt nod and a haughty 'Good morning' to the crew before stepping back in line. He was to be the new butler.

          Next, the red-headed woman with the angular face stepped forward in her high-heeled boots, striped cotton dress and clinical white apron, bouncing on the balls of her feet and smiling broadly through a substance on her lips that wasn't quite rouge, but made her mouth glossy and more noticeable. Her emerald eyes were positively dancing at the prospect of meeting new people. "This is Merlyn," Otto continued, particularly in Duo's direction. "She'll be your new sous-chef."

          "Hello, all!" Merlyn tweeted in a voice that was not only very sharp and very English, but _very_ upper-class. "I know we're all going to get along splendidly, aren't we?"

          "Sous-chef?" Duo asked in a suspicious tone. "What's that mean?"

          "It means she'll be directly under you," Otto said, flapping one hand in the breeze as he searched for a more dignified way of putting it. "...culinarily speaking..."

          Merlyn's wide eyes latched onto Duo in his tidy white tunic, and she pranced right up to him, bending down to talk as if he were no more than a child. "Are _you_ the head cook around here, then?" Her voice was sounding more and more like happy little bluebirds scratching their beaks on a chalkboard every minute.

          "Yeah, that's me," Duo sneered a bit defensively.

          "Oh, how jolly!" Merlyn chirped. "And look at that adorable little smock! I used to wear those when I was in private cooking schools, and that was _quite_ a number of years ago! I've studied in France, Italy, Greece, Spain, and the Americas. Where did you study?"

          Duo's face was frozen into a glare that had absolutely no effect on the perky woman. She was just too much. He pointed to the kitchen table. "Over there."

          Merlyn looked at the table, looked back, then prodded him merrily in the shoulder and laughed heartily, thinking he was being sarcastic. "Oh, how jolly of you! Well, of _course_, I shouldn't think you've been _anywhere_ yet, why, you're just a boy! But that's alright...I'm sure we'll get along splendidly anyway!" Adding a final shining smile, she stepped back in line and began looking over her new domain while the introductions continued. Duo just folded his arms and pouted, thinking that this was just the first step in elbowing him out of his job.

          "Now, ladies, your positions are going to be shuffled a bit, in the interests of efficiency," Otto then told the housemaids. "Hilde and Bethany, you two will be strictly chambermaids from now on. Upstairs work _only_. Elsie, you are officially promoted to parlour maid, and Doris will be the housekeeper, so you'll all answer to her authority." The two new girls were too timid to step forward when Otto walked up to them next. "This is Pearl, our new laundry maid...and Grace, our scullery maid."

          Pearl, the stoutish, dark-skinned girl, presumably named for her brilliant pearly teeth, without which she might have disappeared in the dark, smilied warmly and curtseyed with a mousey 'G'morning' in a soft, light Cockney. Stringy-haired Grace, with her shallow-set eyes, receding chin and gargantuan nose, just stood and stared at a spot over Bethany's shoulder, probably out the window. Her rather gormless expression was jostled eventually when Pearl jabbed her sharply in the side with one arm. Grace suddenly sprang to life, displaying her crooked teeth in a dim-witted grin, and curtseyed quickly. It was somewhat anti-climactic after Merlyn's bubbly display. Both girls had new black and white maids' uniforms on, identical to the other girls' clothes.

          Finally, Otto came to the teenage boy, who was about Quatre's height with simple-cut sawdust-coloured hair and a red uniform jacket with brass buttons over black trousers. There was something unsettling about his smile. "And this is..." Otto walked up to the boy, apologetically clicking his fingers as he struggled to remember his name.

          "Tristan," the boy supplied in a somewhat lower-class Catford-like accent.

          "Tristan," Otto repeated disinterestedly, turning to Trowa with the vital information. "He'll be our new valet and hall porter, except when the carriage is needed, in which case he will also be the footman."

          Trowa frowned. When he had to sit atop the carriage for hours and hours, it was a treat to hop down off his perch and stretch his legs while helping his passengers in and out. Not only that, but he thought he did perfectly well at both jobs, so this was a slight slap in the face.

          Without further ceremony, Otto shuffled four of the new cards into his deck, leaving Bertram Augustus where he stood. The new line, in order of importance, was Doris, Elsie, Bethany, Hilde, Tristan, Duo, Merlyn, Pearl, Grace, Trowa, and Quatre. This was a much more significant event than it seemed at the time. "You are all now under the direction of the new butler, and I...do _not_ exist." Appearing to say that he washed his hands of the whole lot of them, Otto turned on his heel and marched back to where Bertram Augustus Something-or-other stood, to deliver a final set of instructions. During that time, nobody moved, for awhile.

          Duo stood and waited very innocently, but became slowly aware that Tristan, the upstairs staffer to his immediate right, was smiling at him. Turning his head briefly, Duo smiled back, but Tristan's face kept stretching and stretching, no matter how many questioning looks Duo gave him. Eventually, while Otto and the butler were heavily engaged, Tristan leaned towards Duo and slowly whispered in a soft, light tone, ".....you've got lovely hair."

          Duo looked surprised, and a little squeamish, but smilied anyway. "Thanks."

          Tristan leaned closer. ".....I made me own uniform."

          The chef forced himself to pretend to look at the fine sewing job and nodded. "Very nice."

          ".....would you like to try it on?"

          This time, Duo's eyes widened, and he swallowed. "Uh...no, thanks."

          ".......can I try yours on?"

          Duo went totally bug-eyed and sidled right into Merlyn, who hadn't noticed the exchange but grinned at him all the same. There was no time for any more whispering, thankfully, as Otto left and Bertram Somebody-or-other took the stage, clearing his throat at the line. "Stand up straight, please," he said in a clipped and slightly nasal voice. The line shuffled around a bit. "As far as any of you are concerned, I have no name, you will address me as 'Sir,' is that understood?"

          "Yes, sir," the line responded jaggedly. The rapid, flowing way in which 'Sir' strung his commands into one long sentence was meant to be intimidating, and it worked.

          "Look to your right," said 'Sir.' Everyone looked to their right, except Doris, who was on the end. "That person will have authority by proxy over you at all times, when I am not present. Look to your left..." Everyone looked to their left, except Quatre, who was on the miserable other end. "If that person makes a complaint against you that you have falsely accused or otherwise abused their position, you will be dealt with appropriately. All disputes come to me, all questions come to me _once_...after which time I shall expect you to answer them on your own." Everyone looked back to centre as they realised they were in deep trouble.

          "The new rules are as follows. No smoking in the house or anywhere on the grounds. No drinking except while accompanied by myself or the housekeeper, and with our express permission. No slacking, horseplay, or general tomfoolery during working hours. Ladies will not have gentleman guests in their rooms. Meals will be taken at seven, one, and seven, with tea and elevenses. If you miss a meal, you will continue working until the next one. No leaving the property between ten in the evening and six in the morning. No animals allowed in the kitchen or anyplace else where foodstuffs are stored. No speaking to the family or guests unless spoken to first. No taking food from the kitchen to your rooms. No obstreperous attitudes. No--"

          Duo suddenly felt a sharp and very unwelcome squeeze being inflicted upon his posterior. He yelped loudly and leapt out of the line, one hand flailing and the other hand clutching his sore bottom where he had been pinched. Wheeling around, he glared frighteningly at Tristan, who looked pure as new-fallen snow, somehow.

          'Sir' was not amused. "Do you have a problem with the rules?" he scolded the chef.

          Duo's lips flapped open and shut, unable to verbalize the assault without blushing all over. He could only wave his free hand vaguely in Tristan's direction and sputter a bit. "I...but...he..."

          'Sir' flicked his eyebrow at Duo, twitched his moustache, and reached into his inside coat pocket, taking out a tiny leather-bound notebook and a little pencil sharpened to skin-piercing specifications. "Maxwell, is it?" he asked, flipping open to the first page.

          "...yeah..."

          The butler jotted in his notebook, whilst clearly indicating to everyone exactly what he was jotting and why. "Seventeenth of April...Maxwell.....disruptive...and.....disrespectful." He finished the note with a pert dot and put the notebook and pencil away. "Back in line, please."

          Gaping in disbelief, Duo hung his head and returned to his place, fuming. 'Sir' had made at least one new enemy that day.

          "An excellent example, as it happens," 'Sir' continued. "If your name appears in my notebook too many times, you may notice a negative alteration in your pay packet at the end of the week. I expect those are enough rules for the time being, and I shall be meeting with you in pairs or more throughout the day to administer further instructions. Allow me to confirm what many of you already suspect, that it is my responsibility to return this house to its former order and efficiency. The steward tells me there had been far too much laxity lately. It's high time we all tightened our braces. Standards of performance are rising throughout Europe..."

          He went on and on for about twenty minutes, and nobody cared, at least nobody who had been at the breakfast table that morning. Even those who had made life exceedingly difficult for Heero during his first weeks at the manor now wanted him back desperately, but it was too late. Everything was going to change, and one of the least popular concept Bertram Augustus Somebody-or-other introduced was that he strongly discouraged fraternization between the upstairs staff and the downstairs staff.

          _Thank God,_ Duo thought initially, glancing sideways to his right with apprehension. Tristan wasn't smiling at him now, but he could start up again at any second.

**********  
  


          Two things had greatly impressed Relena during her luncheon with Treize that had stuck fervently in her mind ever since. One was that her brother needed a loyal group of fighters on the payroll to get things done that would capture the attention of Cinq's selection committee. The other thing was the magnificent way in which that strange group of girls burst into Lady Une's house, secured it, and even took hostages in a matter of seconds. True, the control they exerted fell apart after a time, but it was still fun to watch, and though she wasn't sure why, she liked their style. She wanted to have a word with them.

          Relena wasn't as surprised as she thought she'd be when Heero appeared that day, clearing the way for the girls to escape. The way it happened suggested that they knew each other, but not necessarily that they were working together; reason somewhat dictated that anyone involved with Lord Jeffrhyss would have to have their socks pulled up a great deal further than those girls' were, strategy-wise. Still, Heero's involvement was a stroke of luck. If she could find him, she could press him for information about the warrior women. If she could find Duo, he would surely lead her straight to Heero, since they were so sickeningly close. It seemed so simple, and so with all this in mind, Relena dressed herself in commoners' clothes, pinned her hair up under a scruffy straw hat, and left her Southhampton hideaway for London, intent on finding those girls.

          It was fortunate that she had on a good, sturdy pair of walking shoes, for she travelled at least a dozen circles around her old neighbourhood in the peasant's disguise, eyeing Bridlewood from every angle for a glimpse of the braided chef. It was a safe gamble that he might sneak out of the house between meals, now that Heero was employment-challenged, so it was all a matter of time, and also of the thickness of her shoe leather. After pacing around the block so many times, it felt like she was getting slightly shorter.

          Then, around two in the afternoon, she spotted him, ducking past the hedge along the south lawn and sprinting down the street. He seemed to have a picnic basket hanging off his right arm. Relena didn't once think about how silly she looked, chasing after him in a full-length skirt, and soon the youngsters were following each other in matching Hansom cabs, then a train, then another set of cabs crossing nearly the full breadth of London in one continuous swoop. Every now and then, Duo got a tingly feeling on the back of his neck, but at no time could he see anyone tailing him. He dismissed the feeling as frayed nerves that had every right to be frayed.

          Duo jumped out of the cab in front of Catherine's, tossing a coin up to the driver, and quickly snaked his way through the restaurant and up to Heero's room, with the basket, vanishing from sight. Just as he was tackling his friend to the bed, demanding a badly-needed hug and launching into a full-scale whine about his terrible day, Relena was sizing up the building he had disappeared into, wondering if her theory was all that well thought-out after all.

          _...a bar? He spends his afternoons in a seedy, grungy, common bar? ...I hope he wasn't sneaking off here while I was in charge..._ Actually, it might have explained a few things. Relena held her nose and stepped inside.

          It wasn't nearly as seedy and grungy and common on the inside as it looked on the outside, though some of the customers certainly qualified. The decorating was tasteful, there were some delicious (and familiar) smells emanating from the kitchen, and the spunky henna-haired barmaid who appeared to be in charge was decidedly non-threatening. Relena showed herself to one of the smaller, cleaner tables without any discarded plates on it, and sat down under her scruffy straw hat. She couldn't see Duo anywhere; the trail had suddenly gone cold.

          Within a minute, someone came to wait on her, a girl about her own age with flowing dark hair, big bright eyes, and a happy bounce to her step. She wore one of several cornflower blue dresses with white aprons that seemed to be milling about the pub, and she presented Relena with a menu. "Welcome to Catherine's, would you like a drink to start with?" she said in a sweet, chipper voice.

          As Relena looked up and met the girl's eyes, bells rang, for both of them. They each knew they had seen the other one before, but where? "Just tea," Relena uttered, trying to fit the face into its proper context. The waitress was frantically trying to do the same, but tried not to let it show as she nodded and walked quickly to the back of the room, through a sea of busy tables. Relena followed her closely with both eyes, searching for a clue.

          Biting her fingernail as she was wont to do in a crisis, Adeela scurried behind the counter and waved over the first of her siblings to come into view. Adeela whispered to Nashida, and they both looked over at the blonde girl under the straw hat. Neither one had a concrete answer to the problem of who she was and why she seemed so familiar, so they called more of their clan over next to the menu board, until there were five sisters all whispering and looking over their shoulders at the not-so-stranger. Yasmeen saw them all clustered together as she was taking the orders of two local merchants for two halves of lager and a hotpot each, crinkled her brow in confusion, and stalked over to them. There was more whispering among the six, after which Yasmeen tried very subtley to peek over Hessa's shoulder at the golden-haired girl. Yasmeen put the pieces together with greater speed and gallons more ease, and she gasped and ducked down behind the counter, pulling her siblings along with her.

          "It's Lady Peacecraft," she whispered as she crouched next to a shelf of clean glassware, and her sisters erupted in panicky whispers of their own.

          "What's she doing here?"

          "Do you think she's found out we were in her house uninvited?"

          "What if she's punishing Quatre for what _we_ did?"

          "...doesn't she look like that girl who was with Treize the other day?"

          "Everybody be calm. We mustn't assume anything..."

          There was a little silver bell sitting on the counter, for customers to ring in the event that there was nobody available to serve them. Someone rang it, and the sisters looked up. The golden-haired girl had her hat off, and she was leaning right over the bar, regarding the group with a cool eye. She seemed...amused. "Can we talk?"

**********  
  


          "...I swear, one more minute of that guy, and I woulda lost it." Duo punctuated his sad tale with hand jabs and rolling eyes, but it still paled in comparison to the original. During a lull, he leaned over the open picnic basket, which sat on the writing desk, and pointed a swirly finger at what remained inside. "Oh, her little blankey's in here, and her toy mouse, her jingle ball, and some kitty treats. I'll bring the rest tonight, I just don't trust her in that house with the new rules. I mean, I can't very well _lock_ her in the cellar for the day, just so she doesn't get caught in the kitchen, can I?"

          Sitting on the bed in his pinstriped waistcoat with Shadow curled in his arms, Heero nodded. The smoky gray cat had behaved herself very well during the speedy journey through town, and now she was getting fidgety after spending too much time in the basket. "I don't know what Catherine will say," Heero wondered out loud, stroking her furry head and scratching behind her ears. "Maybe it's best if she doesn't find out."

          "Sure, sure...I just couldn't leave her there." Duo pushed himself off the desk, strode over to the bed, and tickled Shadow under her chin, to which she responded with a meow and a purr. "And anyway, she misses her Daddy! Don't you, Honeypaws? Yeahhh..."

          They each gave her a quick cuddle, after which Heero carried her back to the writing desk and began unloading her toys from the basket, while offhandedly thinking about the story of Duo's day. There seemed to be some pieces of information that were absent. "So...what _exactly_ made you leap out of the line and yell like that?"

          "Oh." Up until that point, Duo hadn't decided whether or not to tell Heero about the new valet with the busy hands. In the end, it came down to his own ruthless honesty, however, and he knew he couldn't keep it a secret. "Well...I had a...problem...with one of the new people."

          "What kind of problem?"

          A deep breath, and another deep breath. "...okay, see...there's this guy. Tristan. He's..." The boys stared at each other during the pocket of silence, lengthening it in Duo's perception. "...at the risk of sounding hypocritical, he's weird."

          "Weird, how?" Heero asked, turning completely around to give Duo his full attention. "Was it something he said?"

          Duo wasn't aware of it, but he was turning faintly red. Not only that, but he was fiddling with his hands and looking away a lot, two things he didn't do unless he was under severe duress. "Uh...at first it was...and then he..." He searched for words, and upon finding them, felt too self-conscious about speaking them out loud, even though the door was locked and there was only Shadow in the room with them, and she was too busy with her jingle ball anyway. He beckoned Heero closer, and Heero leaned away from the writing desk while Duo put his lips up close to his ear. As he whispered out the words he couldn't give full voice to, one hand reached back and pointed at his behind. When Duo stopped whispering and pulled back, he began to seriously worry about Heero's reaction.

          Behind his everyday mask, Heero wanted to laugh out loud, and he didn't know why. It just sounded so silly that he couldn't believe it. In fact, after applying rational thought to the problem, he wasn't completely sure that he _did_ believe it. His extra free time had seen him reading a lot more, and it was not unheard of for one half of a couple to use jealousy to manipulate the other half into doing what he or she wanted, at least on the pages of the latest literature, and Duo did potentially have an ulterior motive for making Tristan up. He wanted himself and Heero to live together in their own space, apart from the manor and apart from the pub. Heavy travel time was the best reason for moving out of the pub, and the story of philandering Tristan provided a reason for getting Duo out of the manor. While he wasn't convinced one way or the other, Heero decided not to overreact or underreact, and just wait until Duo showed his hand. He looked at Duo with his usual blankness. "Want me to break his legs?"

          Duo laughed. He also wasn't sure if his partner was kidding or not. "Sweet thought, but no. I can handle Tristan alright...just need to keep _him_ from handling _me_." He rubbed the spot one more time, reflecting on the strength of Tristan's grip to be able to inflict such pain through such thick fabric, then retreated to the foot of the bed, where he sat down and flopped backwards with a sigh. There was just enough room for two people to manoeuver comfortably in the small suite, conservatively decorated with oak trim and royal blue wallpaper, and as Duo stretched out on one half of the single-sized bed, Heero slipped off his shoes and climbed onto the other half, leaning back against the wooden headboard and snatching the half-read newspaper off the bedside table as he crossed his legs at the ankles.

          They were positioned just so that Heero's feet landed somewhere alongside Duo's head, and the chef lazily tossed a hand back and clamped onto a piece of Heero's shin, as much of a hug as he could manage in his shattered condition. Heero looked up from his newspaper and smiled. "Tired?"

          "Mm."

          Heero looked back down at the paper, suddenly with a pencil in his hand, and seemed to be studying one section in particular. "It's a lot of work, dashing back and forth like this, isn't it?"

          "Mm-hm..."

          "Maybe we should look for something else...something closer to the manor...there's some nice-sounding places in Camden Town..."

          Duo's eyes opened, and he sat up slowly. He'd been hinting at just such an idea for days, but this was the first measurable progress made on the subject. He turned at the waist with a giddy smile. "Really? Wow...that sounds suspiciously like...you and me moving in together."

          Heero circled an item in the paper, looking purposely ambivalent. "I suppose it does."

          "And gee, Camden Town's, like, _that_ far away on the map," the chef added, holding his finger and thumb a half-inch apart to illustrate. "It'd shave a _whole_ lot of travel time off! This is a nightmare, flying back and forth! As soon as I get here, I get to spend about twenty minutes with you, and then I have to turn back!" In reality, it meant so much more than that. Aspects of their relationship were under serious threat from exhaustion and constant separation, and there were still many delights Duo wanted them to share but couldn't initiate while he was traipsing from one end of the city to the other over and over and _over_. Duo slipped his shoes off as well and crawled up between Heero and the wall, snuggling up to his side and reading the exposed page of newspaper by the light of the gas lamp on the bedside table. It appeared to be a list of flats for rent, some of them only a ten-minute ride from Bridlewood. Duo wrapped his arms around Heero's waist and nuzzled his shoulder appreciatively. "We'd have a lot more time together."

          Leaning his head against Duo's, Heero circled another possible dwelling advertisement, feeling the blissful calm he missed so much during the day. "Most likely."

          "...and we'd be _alone_ more often..."

          "...with any luck..."

          Heero's eyes were still attached firmly to the paper, but his tone of voice welcomed the little mouse who was practically crawling up his left side to get within kissing distance. Solitude and time were getting to be such rare treasures that Duo didn't want to waste one second, and he squeezed ever closer, inhaling the slightly spicy scent wafting off Heero's skin. Giving in gladly, he pressed his lips to Heero's neck, making him smile and curl up a bit as he snaked his left arm around Duo's middle. Treating that arm as a green light, Duo angled his head forward and added tiny nips and licks as he moved from Heero's neck up to his ear, and then slowly down his jawline. As he did this, his spiky bangs flopped right in Heero's face, and the ex-butler winced, trying to blow them away as both his hands were occupied. Duo stopped what he was doing and laughed, and for a moment, it was as if they had no troubles at all.

          Their best kisses usually began with a bit of hesitation, a moment of shared breath and wandering eye contact, but just as the tips of their noses brushed against each other, entertaining thoughts of drawing their lips together in the silence, Heero's spy sense told him he was being watched, and he stopped. First he looked aside, and then Duo, and they realized that Shadow was sitting in a clump on the writing desk with her forepaws tucked underneath her, watching them curiously. It was silly, but they didn't feel alone. Heero unfolded the newspaper as far as it would stretch and looked at Shadow. "Excuse us..." Purely to get another delicious laugh out of Duo, he then pulled his mouse down to lie flat on the bed and draped the newspaper over their heads, and Duo did indeed laugh, but it was quickly muffled with a kiss. Shadow kept watching the newspaper as it seemed to shift and writhe on its own, unable to see the hands and lips meshing underneath, but eventually lost interest and went back to her jingle ball. Her two-leggers would return eventually, she had no doubt.

          Sadly, the little game only lasted a few minutes, before Duo pulled back, leaned his head against Heero's, and sighed. "...Heero?"

          "...hn?"

          "...what time is it?"

          Reluctantly, Heero folded back the newspaper and looked at his pocketwatch in the light. "Ten to four."

          ".....uhngh..." Duo folded his corner back as well, disappointed. They propped themselves up on an elbow each and gazed at each other for a bit. "I have to go."

          Heero shrugged and nodded, and Duo crawled over top of him to get off the bed and put his shoes back on. It was a standard farewell from then, with a promise that Duo would try to duck curfew later that night--indeed, he would have to, because there was no way in Heaven or on Earth that the new butler would let him up to 'their' old room on the second floor. Once he was gone, Shadow made a grand leap from the desk to the bed, and snuggled up next to her pet, sensing that he needed cheering up all of a sudden. Heero sighed, scratched Shadow behind the ear with one hand, and straightened out the newspaper with the other, looking for that perfect home that would theoretically solve all their problems. Ever since Morocco, he had been looking over his shoulder, waiting for that terrible retribution to come falling out of the sky at him for striking out at his former master, but days had passed, and nothing bad had happened. It was starting to feel like he might just get away with it and lead a normal life.

**********  
  


          After being found out, the six sisters led the blonde not-so-stranger into a meeting room, one that was on hold for a business dinner for some middle management executives later in the day. Relena held her hat in both hands, but left her hair pinned up, and stepped in from the door as one of the girls closed it for her. Then the siblings made sort of a loose semi-circle in front of their visitor, but stood well back from her as if fearing some terrible vengeance for the secrets they kept. The first words out of the girl's mouth seemed to support that theory. "I regret that we haven't been properly introduced. My name is Relena Peacecraft."

          Yasmeen, in her capacity as senior spokeswoman, waited for something else, like 'You owe me four months rent' or something equally unpleasant. Nothing else came, though, and that threw Yasmeen off guard considerably. She shrugged with her eyebrows. "...alright."

          "You do remember, don't you?" Relena prodded. "The mansion? The invasion? My uncle at the receiving end of your sword?"

          Indelicately, the girls all looked at one another. It had been a full year since they had taken up temporary residence in this woman's cellar, and she _still_ hadn't twigged. But she remembered the confrontation in the parlour of the evil jackals holding their brother prisoner. Unsure of how much to reveal, Yasmeen had to choose her words with extreme care now. "Of course. We just have to be careful, speaking of our dealings in public."

          "Naturally. And, um...the person you were there to...'collect'...was it your brother? Is he well, might I ask?"

          More troubled glances were exchanged among the siblings. It was the mother of all coincidences, landing right at their feet, but the eldet sister kept her composure nonetheless. "He's...resting comfortably."

          "That's good to hear," Relena said. "I'll admit I found you by chance today, but I've been looking for you. I have a proposition to make, to all of you." Recalling what Milliardo had taught her about taking the position of power in any conversation as quickly as possible, she laid her hat on the table and helped herself to a chair, swinging one leg over the other and dangling her shoe off the end of her toe languidly. She felt totally in control. "I was very impressed with what you did...I think if your energies were directed at a specific, long-term goal, you could do great things."

          "What did you have in mind?" asked Yasmeen.

          Relena glanced casually down at her hat on the table, and ran a finger around its perimeter, keeping up the illusion of being totally relaxed. Rationally, though, she knew these women were quite dangerous and could chop her up into mince pies if they wanted to. "My brother has need of...assistance, the kind that only people with your particular talents could provide. I shouldn't reveal too much too soon, but let me tell you...if you had a dispute with Count Khushrenada, the threat he represents is just the beginning. My brother is facing a much worse evil, and he could use some quality backup, at the right price."

          "You're...offering us work??"

          "Yes," the young Peacecraft answered simply. "We need our own force of private warfare...and, as I'm sure you can understand, one can't simply put an ad in the paper asking for thieves and assassins."

          "True enough..." Yasmeen gnawed on her lower lip in thought, as her sisters began looking to her questioningly. "Would you excuse us for a moment?"

          "Certainly."

          The girls whirled around and bent over into a tight huddle, whispering amongst each other. One of the topics that was hushly passed around the circle was the unnecessary reminder that many of their family members were still in danger abroad, not just from Treize and Hassan, but as Quatre put it to them, from a whole nest of hornets that spread all over the globe looking for treasures to raid in support of their evil doings. There was the opinion that if they, as a family, were to combat such terrors, they would need a bit of practice, since the rescue operation of a few days ago was only a sloppy success at best. They still couldn't get over Miss Peacecraft's total ignorance about who they were and how they were already involved in her affairs, but there would be ample time to giggle about that later. All at once, they rose up out of the huddle, and Yasmeen took a few steps forward. "We're not saying no..."

          Relena gazed up expectantly. "...but?"

          "...but we can't very well say yes when we know so little about you."

          "Understandable." Relena rose, gathered up her hat, and took a small white card from a pocket in her poor dress, handing it to the eldest sister. It had a Southhampton address on it, embossed in gold. "This is where you can find me. I'll give you some time to think it over, but please let me know if you're at least mildly interested before too many weeks have passed. We have to move on this situation sooner rather than later." Replacing her hat, its wide, round brim shading her face from the electric lights, Relena showed herself out of the meeting room, leaving the sisters to stare at the card and wonder. No matter how independant they were in everyday matters, they would require their brother's opinion on this one.

**********  
  


          When Duo crept back into the house, with a brown shopping bag full of fresh herbs he'd grabbed on the way home for an alibi, it seemed like the new butler was lying in wait for him, looking down at his golden pocket watch and glaring disdainfully as the chef tried to sneak in a side door, less than successfully. Tea time had come and gone, and now he had to race around making dinner, which meant that he certainly didn't need the moustached man's self-important glare following all the way back to the kitchen, but that was exactly what he got anyway. When he was herded downtairs, he found that Merlyn had already taken care of tea and was half-way through planning dinner, without him.

          Dumping the bag of herbs on the table, he retreated to Trowa and Quatre's room, where he hoped to find some sympathy, but found more chaos. Since the room was originally meant to house several servants and not just two, Grace and Pearl were commandeering half the room and hanging up old bedsheets to give themselves a little privacy. The boys were slightly resentful that the girls automatically took the half of the room that had the door to the bathroom in it, but said nothing to disrupt the peace. The three lads snuck off to the pantry then, it being the only place where they could find some immediate solace.

          "I don't know if I like this," Quatre whispered. "I got put down in the notebook for wearing my outdoor shoes indoors. Nobody ever complained about it before, and it's not like they were even muddy! I would _never_ bring muddy boots into the house!"

          Trowa rubbed the back of his neck as he leaned on the shelves of canned goods. "That Tristan was following me all around the carriage house, asking if I wanted to feel the fabric of his jacket."

          Duo half-laughed, glad to see that he wasn't the only target. "I'm probably gonna get another telling-off for missing a meal, but I think I've got worse problems..." The three of them leaned a little ways out of the pantry to watch Merlyn, as she stood at the counter chopping carrots. She had such a blazing quick action with the knife that ten carrots were peeled, trimmed, and chopped into cute little coins in under a minute. In less than another two minutes, eight potatoes were peeled, quartered, and dumped in a pot of water, and the carrots were set to steam next to them on the stove, all in swift, swooping movements with the delicacy of a ballet dancer and the precision of a watchmaker. Duo sighed. "That's it. I'm screwed."

          Quatre patted his arm. "She's probably just trying to make a good first impression, that's all...and the others are just trying to do their jobs the best way they know how. I hate to say it, but that new butler has a point. When Lord Peacecraft was still alive, things were a lot more proper around here." The other two seemed less convinced that the changes were necessary, but for the sake of being friendly, they agreed to let it go and see if the situation improved. Before Quatre let Duo out of his sight, though, he pulled something from his pocket and stopped the chef with a hand on his arm. "Didn't you see this? It was in the mail this morning...I thought you would've opened it by now." He held out a letter that had been sitting on the counter for hours, unread.

          Duo took the envelope and remembered that he had looked at it in passing that morning, and decided to put it off. It was from Helen, but judging by the tone her letters had been taking over the past weeks, he couldn't justify inflicting it on himself when he was already having such an up-and-down day. He shoved it in his pocket. "I'll open it later..." _...maybe. It can't possibly be good news, not after all this time._ "Better get started on dessert before Merlyn grabs _that_ out from under me, too..." Telling himself repeatedly that he was going to be nice to the evil usurper lady no matter how much it hurt, Duo went back to his work, for the moment.   
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Eighty: Things heat up as Duo and Heero give themselves permission to explore their physical relationship, while Merlyn becomes a pain and Trowa stumbles onto something sinful by accident._

Yow! Dinner's on the table, and I'm just ravenous. All that talk about carrots and potatoes didn't help much, either... *drool* =@_@= Anywho. Next eppy will be on April 28th. Laterz!


	80. Red Light, Green Light

**Warning:** More gooey shounen-ai-ness, only gooeyer (gooier? gooeier? more gooey.) than before.

**Disclaimer:** If the Easter Bunny gave anyone any chocolate pilots, I wanna know about it. =P (Oh, and, all the best characters in this story were made by someone else, darnit. So don't sue me.)

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Eighty: Red Light, Green Light

_"Absence makes the heart grow fonder." ~Francis Davidson _

April 28th, 1903

Innocently, unsuspectingly, Bethany was doing her daily dusting on the second floor. There was an eerie quiet as she moved from the nursery to the green guest room, lightly passing her duster over the wall between the two doors to pick up any loose particles on the wallpaper. There was absolutely no warning when she disappeared into the green guest room, and the silence persisted, until...

"_Eeeeeeeek!_"

There was a sharp slapping noise, after which Bethany ran out of the green guest room in a terrible state, frantic and clutching her bottom through the folds of her dress. She ran all the way down the hall and up the stairs to her attic room without stopping to look behind her.

Then, the sandy head of Tristan slowly poked out into the hall from the green guest room, glancing sadly after his escaped prey. Better luck next time.

**********  
  


Catherine had always thought of Heero as her favourite tenant, but lately he was getting on her nerves, severely. He didn't have a job, didn't have anywhere to go in the morning, and actually seemed...lonely, a trait that seemed highly uncharacteristic. Most mornings, he followed her around the pub while she cleaned up before opening, looking over her shoulder and constantly asking if there was anything he could do to help. She tried giving him chores, but he was so efficient that the work seemed to be done even before she finished asking for it. He was, despite all his lessons in charm and sensitivity, driving her up the bloody wall.

As a desperation move one morning, she marched him into a chair and forced a newspaper into his hands, taking advantage of the few hours every day when the pub was empty. "Heero, I don't know how this tiny detail escaped you," she said, pulling up another chair beside him, turning it backwards and straddling it in a very unladylike way, "but nobody's going to just walk up and _hand_ you a job. If you want work, you have to go looking for it."

While she prodded Heero to open the paper to the help wanted section, he thought about what she said. Grand total, he had only had two jobs his whole life, and he didn't have to look for either one of them. "You could be right," he muttered as he glanced up and down the page.

"Atta boy," said Catherine, and she rested her chin on her folded arms atop the back of the chair to watch. Heero perched his right ankle on the opposite knee, gave the opened paper a shake to straighten out the pages, and perused the employment selection.

The 'Help Wanted' advertisements were quite clearly separated into 'male' and 'female', with the higher-paying and more intellectual positions consistently going to the men. Sally would not have been pleased to see him endorsing such behaviour, but Heero wasn't concerned with making social commentary about it. "Now, what do we have here...bricklayer. I'm not a bricklayer. Silversmith...I can polish it, but that's about it. Printer...glazier.....engine maker......." He went silent as his eyes travelled further down the list, and he realized that he really wasn't qualified to do anything. "...what would you recommend for someone who has very few skills that are marketable in the real world?"

Catherine pointed to a small, nondescript ad next to a person offering to buy scrap copper. "Errand boy."

Heero wrinkled his nose. "That can't pay very much..."

She pointed again. "Alright then...dock worker. Twenty shillings a week."

"...it says I'd have to join the union."

"So join the union."

"I don't want to."

"Why not?"

"Unions scare me."

"How come?"

"I don't know." Heero could feel the waves of impatience coursing off Catherine's brow. He quickly skimmed the next three columns and stopped at a prestigious-looking ad with a border around it. "Law clerk! That looks rather interesting..." It conjured up images of assisting top barristers in high-profile murder cases, full of science, intrigue, and women with too much makeup pretending to cry in the witness box. An exciting life indeed! Heero took out his pen and drew a big circle around 'Law Clerk.'

"...they'll make you cut your hair," Catherine commented.

Heero took out his pen and drew a big 'X' through 'Law Clerk.'

Catherine huffed out a sigh and sat straight up, gripping the chair back with both hands. "Oh, come on, now! You're not even trying! If you can turn your nose up at everything in the paper when there are millions of decent people out of work, then you'd better be prepared to get out there and pound the pavement! Knock on doors! Introduce yourself! When my mother's brother-in-law lost his job to a fire in the textile factory, he got a job as a coach driver the very next day! Mr. Featherstone's company...it's only down the street a few blocks, you could go there right now."

Heero had turned the page while she was talking, and without missing a beat, he quoted from a glaring notice near the bottom. "Featherstone's Stagecoach Company, going-out-of business sale. Auctioning off all vehicles, horses, uniforms and sundries. Everything must go." He turned to give her a kind of self-satisfied glare, holding up the page as proof. "That Mr. Featherstone?"

"...oh." Catherine's face fell. "Well, I blame the trains. Stupid modern gizmos have taken all the romance out of travel."

With an eyebrow shrug, Heero turned back to the want ads, less than enthusiastically. "I have a terrible feeling I'm going to end up down a coal mine," he moaned. It felt good to moan. He hadn't had much practice at it, but it was coming easier lately, perhaps because Duo hadn't shown up last night, or the night before. It was making him cranky.

"Why don't you do what my father did when he left school?" Catherine asked.

"What's that?"

"Join the navy."

Heero really hadn't kept the military in mind, for obvious reasons, but he chose to voice a more Catherine-acceptable excuse. "Then I'd be shipped out, and I'd be away from Duo," he said, before thinking about how it sounded.

Catherine shrugged innocently. "Then why don't you both join?"

He thought about that. Knowing Duo and the touchy-feely way he'd been carrying on lately, he had visions of them being caught in a closet together somewhere below decks, half-dressed, followed by a court-martial, a horse-whipping, being made to walk the plank, or a combination of all three. He thought about it again. "I don't think so."

"Picky, picky, picky," Catherine scolded, and just as she did, her telephone gave a clattery ring from behind the bar. She rose to answer it, continuing her lecture as she walked. "You know, unless you've got a secret nest egg, or a scholarship to some fancy university, you haven't got a prayer. You'd better get real flexible, _real_ fast." She picked up the earpiece of the clunky wooden box fastened to the wall next to the swinging kitchen doors, and spoke to the operator. A few words later, she stepped back and called out to the unproductive lump on the other side of the room. "It's for you."

Blinking with surprise, Heero flung the newspaper onto the nearest table and took possession of the earpiece. The conversation was brief but filled with disappointed noises and hasty promises, and afterwards he hung up the earpiece and slowly turned around with his hands in his pockets. "That was Duo. He was going to come over this afternoon, but he suddenly can't."

"What's wrong."

"...he can't afford to. He's overdrawn on his allowance." The words came out with all the blandness of a railway schedule, and none of the credibility. Duo knew, on the other end of the line, that his explanation of events was holey like Swiss cheese, but there was no time to talk before the new butler came marching through on his rounds, caught a downstairs person upstairs, and put the miscreant's name down in his little leather book of doom, which would have upset the balance of the entire universe.

Catherine just folded her arms and shook her head. "You men...totally helpless about money." She left him standing with that thought, off to balance the book of accounts and count out the week's wages again.

**********  
  


Bertram Augustus thought most assuredly that he heard a hushed voice in the north hall, but as he rounded the corner coming off the main staircase, there was no one there. He walked slowly past the telephone on the Chippendale table, noticing that the slender black instrument had been very slightly moved. Taking out his handkerchief so that he wouldn't have to touch anything that had been recently touched by someone else, he gently nudged it a quarter of an inch back to its original position, looked carefully in all directions for the guilty party, and then reversed direction heading for the parlour. As soon as he was gone, an angular wood panel underneath the stairs creaked open, and Duo slipped out of the little crawlspace hidden behind it, swiftly latching it shut again and sprinting back to the kitchen. At least being a thief still came in handy once in awhile.

Back in his old domain, the chef was finally able to relax a bit, but his nerves were still critically on edge. The whole kitchen had been placed on a strict budget, and every solitary coin had to be accounted for, recorded, rationalized, explained. No unnecessary expenditures whatsoever. This meant that Duo could no longer sneak a little money out to pay for cab rides and train fares, thereby firmly re-seeding him in the weedy garden that was the lower class. It sucked to be poor, again.

His other problem was standing at the kitchen table, deftly whipping together a soufflé with about as much effort as it takes a person to tie their shoes. Merlyn was a miracle-worker in the kitchen, and more than made up for her bohemian looks in cooking savvy and imaginative recipes. She also seemed to have made all the sandwiches for lunch, and even hand-squeezed the lemons for the season's first batch of lemonade. Duo stuck his hands in his denims pockets and sauntered up with a snide snarl already in place. "So...anything I can do to, uh...help?"

"Not really," Merlyn tweeted in her sing-song way. "Soup's on the boil, parfaits are in the icebox, and this is going in the oven any second."

Duo squinted. That didn't sound anything like the lunch menu _he_ had planned. "Um...I wasn't really thinking along the lines of soufflé and parfait and anything else that rhymes, I thought maybe something simple, like those little chocolate frosty cookie things in the purple tin."

Merlyn looked sweetly amused, but wasn't looking directly at him. "Were you really? Oh, how jolly! Be a dear and give the lemonade a quick stir, would you?"

Duo had learned fairly quickly that there wasn't much point in arguing with the woman. Once she had made up her mind about something, she could tune out a herd of elephants tramping through the kitchen. All in all, it was better just to stir the damn lemonade and get on with something else, like getting his hiding place ready for Heero when he arrived that afternoon, as he promised he would. With resignation, he walked around the table to the drawer next to the washbasin, where he kept the long wooden spoons, but when he opened it, the spoons were gone. Instead there was a vegetable brush, some dishcloths, and a few other things that were usually kept in the drawer on the _other_ side of the washbasin. Leaving the first drawer open, Duo went to the second drawer, opened it, and found the tin opener and the pastry blender, which were usually in the ugly blue jar sitting on the far end of the counter. He went to the jar and found the egg whisk. He went to the drawer that usually had the egg whisk in it, and it was empty. A huge section of _his_ kitchen had been mysteriously rearranged without his knowledge or consent. This was inexcusable. He wheeled on Merlyn and folded his arms angrily. "What's been going on in here?"

"Hm?" It took her a moment to look up after closing the oven door on the delicate soufflé. "Oh, I see! I did a bit of shuffling while you were out fetching ingredients."

"I already had this place perfectly arranged so that everything was right where I needed it!" Duo shouted, irked by her perpetual smile.

"Yes, but now everything's arranged so it makes sense," Merlyn chirped. She went straight on to some other pre-lunch task and forgot all about him.

Duo fumed. He stalked all around the kitchen, opening and closing cabinet doors and grumbling inwardly about what they contained, or didn't contain that they should have. It was all wrong, all of it. The whole room was wrong. Suddenly it didn't feel like his kitchen anymore. The walls were closing in on him, and he was running out of air. Teeth gritted and fists clenched, he stormed out to Trowa and Quatre's room, shut the door, picked up a pillow, pressed it to his face, and screamed into it. That felt somewhat better, but it would only get worse later when he saw what else Merlyn had done to the kitchen...

**********  
  


A good day was getting harder and harder to find at Bridlewood. Trowa hadn't seen one in more than a week, and they seemed to be getting progressively worse. First, Otto ordered a scratchy red uniform jacket for him, similar to Tristan's, and he had to wear it all the time, whether he was driving the coach anywhere or not. He could tell it was going to be murder wearing it all summer, but at least he looked a little more stylish than Quatre, who had been banned from wearing anything but tacky overalls. Still, he wasn't getting any breaks when it came to his chores; Otto had demanded a full tune-up for all the joints and moving parts in the entire carriage, and Trowa was somehow supposed to give it a total spring-clean without getting his new red jacket dirty. He hoped he might at least be able to take the silly thing off in the carriage house, but with Otto constantly entertaining strangers that wanted to see the grounds in all their springtime splendour, one could never know.

After lunch, he headed for a storeroom in the cellar which held a few specialized tools that weren't kept in the carriage house because of space constraints. He knew the room so well that he could navigate the shelves and cabinets in the dark, and so he didn't bother bringing a lantern because he felt sure that he could locate the items he needed purely by touch. It was therefore a total surprise when he slammed his foot into something big and heavy on the floor that wasn't supposed to be there, and let off a quiet stream of obscenities in Spanish as he hopped around on the other foot.

Hobbling out of the room, he eventually returned with a lantern, intent on glaring on the foreign object that had the nerve to insert itself in front of his boot. It was a box, a heavy-gauge cardboard box with the flaps folded together on top and a note pinned to it. Scowling, Trowa bent down and snatched the note off its pin, and read it.

_"These are not cookbooks and therefore belong somewhere other than the kitchen. Please relocate them."_

It was a woman's handwriting, and since it referred to the kitchen, Trowa guessed that the note was from Merlyn. He had a vague memory of her shuffling around objects in the kitchen when he slipped out after one cup of coffee that morning, anxious to get away from her sun-shiney bubbliness, but he knew of no details relating to this box. Suddenly brimming with contempt, he placed one foot on the top edge nearest to him on the box, gave it a mighty shove, and knocked it over, loosening the folded flaps and spilling some of the books inside onto the floor. It gave him a momentary rush of power, and then it was back to searching for the tools, but after he found them, and began to step over the mess of books to get back out the door, something strange caught his attention.

One of the books sitting on the top of the pile had fallen open, somewhere in the middle. It was fairly large, and black, and it was full of photographs, but something about the photographs didn't look quite right, even at a distance. Carefully finding a place for his feet this time, Trowa crouched down and gave the book a closer inspection, bringing the lantern right down to fully illuminate the pages, and then it hit him. There were several people in the exposed photographs, but none of them was wearing a stitch. He was staring at two huge pages of naked cavorters, revelling in all manner of lascivious acts. For one paralysing moment, he wondered if there had been hidden cameras in the crimson den where he and Quatre had been drugged and trapped, but then reassured himself that he didn't recognize anyone pictured. Even if there had been cameras present, the people in front of them would have had to hold those unnatural poses for several minutes while the film was exposed to their exposure, and he couldn't remember anyone in the den holding still for that long. After a deep, cleansing breath, he dared to reach out and turn the page, quickly and carefully as if the paper could actually burn him, and he found more of the same. Page after page of lurid, depraved sin in various shades of black and white.

He should have put it back in the box, or at least looked away, but his arm moved under its own power to reach out and pick up the devilish volume. He couldn't seem to stop it. Now the book was in his hand, and before he could raise a mental protest, it was tucked under his arm. A tiny, filthy grain of his consciousness wanted to keep it, even though the rest of him was highly dubious of the idea, and making him aware of it by giving him sweaty palms and a very dry mouth. Looking all around him to make doubly, even triply sure that no one was watching him, he crept out of the storeroom and made a hasty and highly secretive stop in his room before continuing on to the carriage house.

**********  
  


If one went through the pantry, past the scullery, and down a long hall that connected half a dozen other rooms dedicated to the service of laundry, dishes, and hot running water, one arrived at a murky little room that still had giant hooks dangling from the ceiling from the olden days when the family would buy an entire side of beef and hack bits off of it as needed. It was easily the coldest room in the house, set well into the ground with no heating ducts and only a tiny window at the top of the outside wall, in the bit of the north wall that was in constant shade from the fence. The room laid unused for decades, until Duo found himself stuck at the manor without a bed. He didn't have the money to get across town, and his old room in the attic had been expanded into by the housemaids. Reduced to spreading a threadbare bedsheet on the floor and sleeping huddled up in a little ball wrapped in his plaid blanket, Duo found his lifestyle rapidly deteriorating into what it was before he ever met Heero.

He had to stand on a chair to reach the tiny window in the top of the wall, and for close to an hour he stared out at a miniscule patch of shaded grass until he saw a pair of shiny black shoes creeping around the house. "Psst!" he called out to them.

The shoes stopped, as their owner looked left, right, up, and finally, down. Heero crouched down on his hands and knees and peered into the open window. "...what are you doing down there?"

"Just...can you get through this thing?" Duo huffed in frustration, tapping the window frame.

Heero looked at the steepish drop from the window to the floor, thought about it for a moment, then straightened up and took off his black jacket, passing it through the window to Duo. He motioned for the chair to be taken away, and Duo did so without question. Then, flattening himself out on the grass, Heero slithered through the window head-first and seemed to crawl down the wall, defying gravity, until he could just squeeze his legs through. Then, still holding himself up by the fingertips pressed against the interior wall, he pushed off the window frame with both feet, flipped over, and landed in a tidy crouch in the centre of the room. Duo spontaneously applauded, it was that spectacular. "Nice to know I'm still good at _something_," Heero quipped as he stood and dusted himself off.

Duo couldn't stand there another second and not be physically attached to Heero, so with the jacket still dangling from one hand, he hugged his friend tightly and sighed. "Missed you big time," he said quietly.

With an almost parental smile, Heero returned the hug, and then looked around at the room, particularly at the blanket rolled up on the floor. There was a moth-eaten pillow too, with feathers creeping out of several unwanted holes, and an alarm clock. "Have you been _sleeping_ down here?" he asked with needless shock.

Loosening his grip, Duo leaned back and frowned. "It's been awful around here with all these new people," he whined. "This was the only corner of the house I could claim for myself, now that I'm not allowed upstairs anymore! And the new guy that's in charge has _no_ sense of humour! I made him this great little sponge cake and drew a frowny face with fangs on it on top to let him know he's being a jerk to everyone, and he put my name down in his book _again_!"

Always willing to practice his sarcasm, Heero ground the knuckles of one hand into the palm of the other, looking menacing, but with a small smirk. "Want me to have a quiet word with him?"

Duo considered it, but not for long. "Nah, you don't need to mess up his face, he's ugly enough."

"Really, I don't mind...it's not as if I've got anything better to do..."

As Heero's tone turned sombre, Duo glanced down at the concrete floor, and at the various discolourations that decorated it unpleasantly. "No job yet?"

Though it was difficult to detect, Heero was slightly ashamed of his failure, especially as he had more and more time to think about the morning argument in the pub. He shook his head, letting the silence speak for itself a moment or two. "And until I find something, there's no chance of getting a place of our own. We can't even afford to pay Catherine much longer."

In unison, they leaned against the wall with the window in it, and stared across the tiny room at a waist-high wooden table, which, aside from the wobbly chair, was the only real furniture to be seen. Duo glanced here and there with a worried pout. "Well, what _can_ we afford?"

Heero jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "A hammock tied between two trees in the back yard." Then he waved a hand in a general circle, pointing widely at the concrete hole they were in. "Or this."

"That's _it_!?"

"Unless we dip into the emergency fund."

Duo pushed off the wall and stood in front of Heero, his eyes a bit wild with desperation. "So dip! We can't go on like this and you know it!"

Heero couldn't even look Duo in the eye at that particular moment. Catherine was right. He was overqualified, under-experienced, and far too picky. "I thought it would be easier, but...I'm just not suited to the sort of work normal people do every day. I don't know what I'll be doing a year from now...a month from now...even tomorrow. It's very disorienting."

His black jacket was still in Duo's hands, and the chef fiddled with the collar a bit, looking down as well. He knew it was still a lot to expect of Heero to just blend in with society after only two years' exposure to it. It was as if he had moved to reality from a foreign country that wasn't on any map, and it took a long time to learn the language from scratch. "And I guess you look at regular people in the street and figure they've got it all together, and you'll never have that, huh? I know how _that_ feels..." As carefully as he could, he folded the jacket in half and tossed it on the folded-up woolly plaid blanket on the floor, and it landed just perfectly so that no part of it was dragging the ground. Then he scooted closer to Heero, so that they were standing toe-to-toe, and Heero had to look him in the eye to avoid being rude. Duo's face slowly took on a deliciously sneaky glaze soon after. "The way I see it, there's two major things we've gotta work on. Well...three, if you count Jeffrhyss and Relena and all that crud. One is finding a place to live, and the other one...is us."

This was not new. Every time Duo started using the word 'us', Heero knew what he meant, and he got a strange, tugging, tingling sensation right in his belly. He wasn't certain whether he was supposed to enjoy it, but it felt oddly pleasant. He returned the sultry look Duo gave him, to an extent. "Flip a coin to see what gets fixed first?"

"_Oh_ no," Duo warned, slipping away to shut the heavy wooden door to the cold room. For what he had in mind, he wanted no witnesses. "We've been using lack of accommodations as an excuse for _way_ too long."

"Excuse for what?" Heero asked artlessly.

Duo stopped halfway between the door and Heero, shifting his weight to one leg and arching an eyebrow. "I didn't wanna say anything before, but this whole 'innocent' act? It's getting kinda old."

The tingly tugging around Heero's bellybutton grew stronger, and out of a need to just move around to see if it would go away on its own, he stepped away from the wall and crossed the room to the table, studying it. The table was stained a bright yellowy pine colour, and was heavily glazed, even after so many years in storage. What little light came through the tiny window bounced off its surface brilliantly. He smirked slightly, without realizing that he was turning the tiniest bit red. "Is there any way I can talk myself out of this?"

"Not after you've been talking yourself around in a circle for the last year," Duo countered, walking right up to Heero and trapping him against the table. Heero turned around, and there were suddenly two lithe arms on either side of him, propping Duo up as he leaned into him, while he leaned back into the table. "You know all this stuff about seduction, and then you act like an amateur when I want to get close...you looked through that big black book with me and then pretend you don't know what my weirdest dreams _really_ mean when I tell them to you..." As Heero propped his own arms up on the table, his were on the outside while Duo's were on the inside, and Duo curled himself right around Heero's waist and leaned heavily into him, smiling coyly. "C'mon. I'm not buying it anymore."

Heero finally identified the tingly tugging. It was an invisible rope tied around his waist at one end, and tied around Duo at the other, and some celestial force pulled the rope tighter and tighter the longer they stood so close. He had missed his mouse terribly, but like any other one of the strange feelings he had learned to feel, those not associated with his default programming, he didn't know how to say it. It was so much easier to wrap his arms around him and bury his nose into Duo's warm, cinnamon-scented neck, so he did. Duo exhaled after a long pause and wriggled contentedly in Heero's grasp, moving just to feel the arms around him a little better. He never felt like they were truly alone anymore, not at the pub with so many people coming and going who might have their ears to the door, but this was different. Nobody would ever think to look for them there, not ever. Suddenly confident, he pulled one hand off the table and used it to tip Heero's chin up and off his shoulder, coaxing him into a kiss. Falling into the comfortably familiar, Heero let his eyes flutter closed and was blissfully unrattled, until Duo's free hand travelled down his neck to work on the buttons of his waistcoat. Then the hand crawled back up and started fumbling with his shirt buttons, all the while hiding under the blanket of distraction provided by the kiss. When the hand got to Heero's belt buckle, however, he made a small noise and pulled away, breaking the kiss. New territory was often a bit daunting.

Duo was the picture of understanding, and rubbed noses with Heero before leaning back far enough to look at him properly. While Heero had never been able to vocalize what the problem was with taking the next logical step in their relationship, Duo knew how he felt regardless. "Look...if it makes it any easier for you, why don't you think of me as...that plum-and-cherry upside-down cake I made before. Remember that? How you weren't too sure about it because I put yogurt in the batter?"

Heero laughed lightly at the memory. Every once in awhile, Duo came up with something unusual for dessert and used anyone he could find as guinea pigs. "I remember."

"But it turned out to be pretty good, once you got used to it," said Duo, running his fingers teasingly back and forth just inside the waistband of Heero's trousers. "So, all I'm suggesting is...think of me as that cake. Have a taste now, just to try it, then wrap it up and put it on the shelf for awhile, and if you decide you want more...well...you know where to find me."

Gradually, as he thought it over, Heero leaned away from the table, and Duo let him go, wanting him to have as much space and time as he needed to make his decision. Heero turned slightly away to think for a moment, and a surprising sentiment popped out of his mouth. "You're so lucky."

Duo laughed in a kidding way, running a hand through his bangs. "Yeah, but I won't have my looks forever..."

"I mean your freedom," Heero added, running his thumbnail down a groove in the table's woodgrain. "You got to _choose_ your sexual identity...instead of being slapped with one before you were old enough to know whether you wanted it or not."

Duo shrugged. "I didn't exactly pick it either, it picked me." Then he crept up behind Heero and rested his chin on the boy's left shoulder. "You wanna know when it started?"

Heero's eyes lit up with curiosity, and he turned his head a little towards him. "When?"

"Remember when you told me to measure every room in the house, and I kept getting in your way on purpose?" Duo asked in a quiet, smiling voice. With one hand, he reached up and squeezed Heero's arm, then massaged it a little as the memory was fleshed out in his mind. "And then I started whispering in your ear, about how badly you needed some excitement in your life...and you _shivered_, and I could _feel_ it...right then, I knew I had to get closer to you, I just didn't know how."

Heero remembered that day, but remembered it differently, through a shameful lens that took in the whole picture of their relationship at the time. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but back then, he used to hit Duo, often. And pull his braid. And call him stupid. And tell him to shut up. And after all that, Duo reached out to him, and had been reaching out ever since. He deserved better than to be pushed aside yet again. He deserved a _lot_ better. As he turned around, Duo slid his hand from the arm to inside Heero's shirt and around his back, as Heero leaned close and tapped their foreheads together. "No one else has ever understood me the way you do."

Duo slipped the other hand underneath Heero's shirt and held both hands flat against his back, absorbing the warmth of the roughened skin underneath. They were both looking as far downward as they could without their eyes actually being closed, and were guided closer together by touch and smell alone. "Just a little slice...and save the rest for later."

Their lips drew nearer, so that they shared the same breath. "Now?" Heero whispered.

Duo nodded faintly. "Right now."

A few seconds into the kiss that followed, Heero turned Duo around so his back was to the table, and pushed him on top of it, swivelling him so that he could stretch out fully across the lacquered wood surface. Heero leapt up onto the table after him, pressing him down as their arms and legs tangled together into a messy knot. The kiss intensified as they tried to devour more and more of each other in a single stroke. One of Heero's hands broke free and mimicked Duo's earlier action, fiddling with the buttons of his white chef's tunic, while Duo laced his fingers together behind Heero's lower back and pulled down as hard as he could. Soon they began writhing together in an effortless, synchronous rhythm, and Duo involuntarily lifted a hand up to land on the back of Heero's head and ruffle his silky black hair, as his partner's warm kiss moved down to his neck. Apart from the searing, dizzying physical contact that Duo craved so desperately, there was a growing pressure of anticipation pulsing around them, blotting out all sights and sounds except those hovering an inch off their skin.

Then after awhile, they slowed down, and Heero found himself unsure about his role again. He had partially unbuttoned Duo's tunic, but he didn't know precisely where to go from there. He had an impulse to pull his braid up from where it was dangling off the edge of the table and unravel it, so he could finally satisfy his curiosity about how it would feel to sink both hands into those wavy chocolate locks, but he couldn't decide. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked Duo's heaving form up and down fully before looking him in the eyes. "What comes next?"

Duo glanced from side to side, thinking, as his rapid breathing gradually slowed. His hands were firmly fixed on Heero's upper arms, but his fingers twitched from deep thought. Finally, he inhaled strongly and patted Heero on the shoulder. "Lemmie get the book."

Without hesitation, Heero sat back on his heels and let Duo out from underneath him, and the chef re-buttoned his buttons and ran out of the room. He was no mere boy, but a bullet, as he sped through the dingy underground hallways back to the kitchen, to retrieve the item he had hidden there weeks before. Ignoring the busy scenery around him as the red-haired menace was already preparing dinner, he went straight to the bookcase. Since nobody else ever touched the contents of that particular bookcase, being traditionally full of cookbooks, Duo thought it was the safest place to store the big black book of evil until he felt comfortable taking it to Heero's room at the pub without making it seem like a demand notice. He would have kept it in the cold room, but the rising damp problem was a threat to the ever-so-delicate pages, and he couldn't risk it. On the bookshelf, there was no way on Earth that anyone could discover his filthy, wonderful little secret.

Duo couldn't find the book. It wasn't on the exact shelf where he left it, so he checked the one above and the one below. Then he checked left and right. Then he crouched down on the floor and looked _under_ the shelf. Slowly, he got up, dusted off his hands, and with a glare that could have knocked a budgie off its perch at twenty paces, he turned to face Merlyn, who was just ferrying a tray of canapés to the table for garnishing with parsley. She looked up at him, and was honestly shocked at the anger in his gaze. Duo was motionless except for the furiously twitching of his left pinky finger. "What have you done?"

"Good gracious, you're in a mood today!" Merlyn crooned.

"What did you do to this bookshelf!?" Duo hollered, flinging a hand out to point at the ravaged wall unit.

"Oh, that!" Merlyn rearranged herself, flipping her hair over her shoulder and clasping her hands together in a matronly way. "I've noticed an awful lot of superfluous material on that shelf, like soppy romance novels, and dusty old mysteries, and even a few about the French revolution, but just because the previous staff had a sloppy system of organizing their things doesn't mean I have to live with it now. You may not realize this, but I have a very delicate constitution that can be adversely affected by my environment, and I do like things to be just so. Last Thursday I went through the whole thing, chucking everything that wasn't a cookbook into a box, and I've sent the box into storage."

Duo paled. "You.....you...did _what_!?"

"I made the kitchen more efficient! Isn't that jolly?" Merlyn's shining smile returned, and Duo just wanted to scrape it off her face with a spatula and toss it to the horses.

"Did you..._actually look_ at the books you were throwing out!?" Duo wasn't sure what a heart attack felt like, but he was probably getting close.

"Good Lord, no," Merlyn laughed. "I just pulled out anything that didn't give off culinary vibrations and out it went!"

Dizzy, Duo collapsed into a chair, his head swimming. He sat there muttering something incomprehensible under his breath for awhile, but then remembered his house guest, and figured he would just have to go back empty-handed. He stood up and was about to flee via the pantry when Bertram Augustus came marching down the stairs and blocked his path. "Where are you going?" he asked in his snide, nasal tone.

Duo swallowed and pointed over the man's shoulder. "I've just gotta--"

"It is nearly five o'clock. Your place is here, working. Back to your position."

"_But_--"

The butler's hand went for his little leather book, and Duo backed away quickly, grovelling off to the washbasin where a stack of potatoes were waiting to be peeled. The man practically stood over his shoulder all throughout the preparation of dinner, tipped off by scattered reports from the other staff members that the chef had been missing from the kitchen an awful lot lately. Over and over, Duo searched for a hole in the butler's defences, wide enough for him to slip through to tell Heero what had happened, but the man did everything but tie him to the table with his sock garters. The minutes ticked by like a year and a half each, but there was no escape. Duo was a prisoner in his own kingdom.

**********  
  


Heero waited...and waited.....and waited. Duo never came back, and the air outside was getting cool as evening set in. There were some very tantalizing smells drifting in from the kitchen, but even though he was ravenous with hunger, he didn't dare poke his head out of the cold room to beg for a morsel.

That wasn't the most disappointing part, though. In spite of all his play-acting at purity to delay something he couldn't completely define anyway, he felt unsatisfied, and hungry in a way he hadn't felt before. Something was definitely about to happen between himself and Duo, and the interruption left him cold and empty, like he was missing something vital to his survival. In the lonely hours he spent in the cold room waiting for his mouse to come back, he thought to himself that even if he had lingering doubts about seeking his sexual self with anyone, he didn't trust anybody in the world as much as he trusted Duo. He told himself that it was time to stop playing games, and after he did, he felt quite a bit better about the situation.

Unfortunately, the rumbling of his stomach was getting worse, and memories of Catherine's renovated menu were swirling in front of his eyes as he stared at the four concrete walls around him. Eventually, he had no option but to reclaim his jacket and climb back out the window, headed for his temporary home. When Duo finally got Bertram Augustus and the others off his back and rushed into the room, he was long gone. Duo slumped miserably. He didn't blame Heero for leaving, but still wished that he could have hung on just a little while longer, long enough to hear the explanation what had happened to the big black book. Now he felt like crying, because they had come so close, and were knocked back yet again.

Then, as he wandered further into the desolate little room, he noticed something on the table. He stepped closer and saw a handful of objects that Heero must have left behind. There were some coins there, just a few farthings and such, not nearly enough for a cab ride but perhaps enough for Duo to treat himself to a small bar of chocolate, to brighten his day. There were also four pieces of salt water taffy wrapped in waxed paper. They must have been a surprise that Heero hadn't sprung on him yet. Duo hopped up and sat on the table, leaning right up against the wall, and picked up the candies, turning them over and over with a grateful smile. _He's right...I am lucky._

One of the waxed-papered treasures had something written on it, something that had to be retraced a few times to actually make an inked impression. Duo held the taffy right up to his nose, squinting as he read the tiny message.

"Genki...dashite." ..._'Cheer up.' Aww._ Duo smiled at the sentiment, then unwrapped the taffy it was clinging to, and ate it. _Sweet dreams, pal._

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Awwww. =^-^= *warm fuzzies* Okay, so, about this Dreamwater-kicking-us-out thing...we've already gotten some very worried emails wondering if this is the end of Bridlewood forever. No it's not! I fully intend to see this story through to the break, and no piddly little server problem is gonna stop me! MWA HA HA HA!! =P But anywho, we will of course post our new address (as soon as we have one) on the main index page, but if you can't get back there for some reason between now and the 4th of May, check my profile at FFN, and the addy will (should) be there. Next episode will be out on May 10th...that should give us a teeny bit of extra time to set up the new site. May 11th at the latest. =P These are desperate times, my friends... *salutes*


	81. Looking Glass

**Disclaimer:** If the Easter Bunny gave anyone any chocolate pilots, I wanna know about it. =P (Oh, and, all the best characters in this story were made by someone else, darnit. So don't sue me.)

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Eighty-One: Looking Glass

_"The secret of happiness is not in doing what one likes, but in liking what one has to do." ~James M. Barrie _

May 10th, 1903

At two in the morning, Heero woke with the biggest screaming migraine yet. It felt like someone had drilled a red hot fireplace poker straight through his left eye and was twisting it viciously. In spite of the unimaginable pain, loss of vision and ringing in his ears, he made not a sound as he felt his way downstairs in his pajamas, and for a while, he wasn't sure where he was. He ended up standing at the door to the kitchen after only one set of stairs, instead of the three or four he was subconsciously expecting, and then it struck him that he was at the pub, not Bridlewood.

Fighting the blurry coloured lights that speckled his sight even in the darkness, he fumbled quietly behind the counter for Catherine's first-aid kit, from which he removed not one but _two_ packets of salicylic acid, his old crutch. Gulping down the contents of both packets at once in a shallow glass of water, he tried futilely to decide where the crippling headaches, which seemed to be increasing in both frequency and intensity, were coming from. He had fewer responsibilities, fewer obligations, fewer demands on his time than ever before. And yet, he felt wretched.

After wincing and scowling at the bitter concoction he had just forced down his throat, he looked around for some instant relief, and happened upon a bottle of sherry, a costly and therefore better variety than usual, which Catherine kept hidden for important customers. At that moment, Heero couldn't think of a more important or needier customer than himself, so he poured himself a large shot glass-full. It didn't occur to him at all that he was stealing liquor, as the landlady might have thought if she appeared suddenly in the doorway, but unlike Duo, Heero didn't automatically label stealing as 'wrong' or 'immoral'. To a spy, theft was either necessary, or it was not, and as long as the veins inside his head insisted on painfully constricting to the point where sleep was impossible, it was very necessary.

Heero raised the tiny glass and as he turned, got a glimpse of himself in the large mirror hanging behind the bar, serving the decorative purpose of making the room seem bigger than it actually was. He froze briefly, staring at the dark-haired stranger. He'd had a bit less than three years to get used to that face, having hardly ever been allowed to see himself as he grew up, save in a puddle of water or the top of a highly-polished wooden desk. He occasionally wondered what he had looked like at age four, age seven, age twelve.

_...as if knowing who I was then would tell me who I am now._

Heero downed the sherry in one gulp, cleaned the glass, and put it back in the exact place where he had found it under the counter. Perhaps he did know why he was getting so many headaches, on some level, but becoming consciously aware of it meant looking deep inside himself, and it wasn't pretty in there. Best to just get upstairs before the different chemicals he had just consumed had a chance to blend in his bloodstream and knock him flat. He tiptoed back to his bed and thought no more about it, for awhile.

********** 

In retrospect, Hilde should have seen it coming. If she was going to crouch down on all fours beside the bed in one of the guest suites to clear the dust bunnies out from underneath, she should have closed the bedroom door first, and if she was going to stay in that position for more than two minutes, she _certainly_ should have locked it. Something ominous was creeping up on her from behind, something that trod lightly and breathed even lighter, to avoid detection. Eventually, the creeping beast attacked, inflicting a brief but extraordinarily painful squeeze upon poor Hilde's derrière. Naturally, she screeched.

Anyone standing outside within earshot of the bedroom doorway would have heard a sickening thump as the housemaid banged her head on the underside of the bedframe, followed by cursing, shouting, a vigorous slapping noise, and a tumble of overturned furniture. Amid the ruckus, Tristan the footman came barreling out of the bedroom like his shoes were on fire, and Hilde quickly followed, spewing mild obscenities and brandishing her feather duster like a weapon as she chased him down the hall.

There was some difficulty to be had, however, with running in a long dress, so Tristan got away with his crime, leaving Hilde to pat her sore behind and trudge back to the bedroom to clean up the mess, muttering under her breath. The new staff arrangements weren't working out at all, to her mind.

She hastily put the bedroom back together and temporarily abandoned her chores, fleeing to the cramped servants' stairwell that led to the kitchen. She hardly got to spend any time there anymore, and knew she was likely to be told off if she was caught lounging there instead of working, but thought that if she could just perch halfway down the stairs, just for a little while, she would gain a small sense of calm and only be bending the rules to get it. When she snuck into the stairwell, she saw that someone else had been hatching the same plan. Duo was sitting on a step geographically positioned halfway between the cellar and the first floor, hunched over and staring down the steps with his chin and arms resting on his propped-up knees. His braid dragged lifelessly on the step behind him, picking up who knows how many varieties of dirt. He looked pitiful.

Hilde gathered up her skirts and sat on the step next to him, on his left-hand side, slouching a bit to match him. "So, who're you hiding from?"

"Queen of the Vampires," Duo mumbled, barely moving. "You?"

"Doberman Pincher," Hilde answered.

Duo sighed instead of nodding so he didn't have to move in order to agree with her. "He's got quite a grip, hasn't he?" Hilde didn't answer, as no answer was needed. "Do you get the feeling we're not wanted around here?"

"I feel _very_ wanted," said Hilde, "Just by the wrong people, that's all."

"I mean the whole idea of bringing in new people, not just what kind of people Otto picked." Duo paused for thought. "Although, it's hard not to imagine an ulterior motive in hiring Merlyn. He might not care whether you quit or not, but he definitely wants _me_ gone."

"You're not going to give him the satisfaction, are you?" Hilde asked in a militant tone. Otto had long cherished stern feelings of resentment for Heero and Duo as a matching set, and when the persecution flared up, at least they had each other to lean on. She worried that without adequate support, Duo would give in to the pressure.

"No way," he affirmed. "I can't afford to quit. Everything I've got now is going towards Helen's medicine. Otto doesn't know it, but he's got me trapped here until I'm absolutely positive she's got her health back."

Hilde cooed at him adorably and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "You're so sweet! I hope Heero realizes what a nice guy he's got!"

Duo looked away briefly. "Yeah, me too..."

His voice wasn't supposed to sound that sad when talking about his soul mate, Hilde thought to herself. She squinted. "Something wrong between you two?"

"Just the usual," the chef moaned. "We hardly have any time together, and when we do, there's never any privacy. Makes it kinda hard to.....y'know.......stuff..." His voice faded away as he tried to bury his chin further down into his folded arms, preferring not to go into intricate detail.

Hilde dropped her head down onto his shoulder and sighed along with him. She desperately wanted the two of them to be happy together, partly so she could fulfill her sickest fantasies and live vicariously through them both, so she honestly felt a portion of his pain. "It can't last forever...sooner or later, something's bound to get better. Good things always happen to nice people, in my experience, and it's lucky for you that you've always been at the top of my 'nice' list."

Duo wished he could return the pleasant sentiment, but just then, he was too clouded with rage and disappointment. He scowled. "This is all Relena's fault. If she hadn't gone poking her uppity little nose where it shouldn't have been, Heero would probably still have a job, and life around here would be infinitely closer to being bearable."

Hilde rubbed his arm a bit. "I know.....wonder what she's doing right now..."

"Probably sunning herself on the patio of her big, fancy country house."

"...yeah...sipping lemonade and eating raspberry tarts..."

"...bought from a bakery," Duo added snidely. He still had a hard time accepting that anyone could eat well without him, which was made worse by being constantly on the defensive with Merlyn around. "She sure has got it easy out there. Hope she's enjoying herself."

Hilde hummed in agreement, and they stayed hidden in the staircase a little while longer, reluctant to re-integrate themselves into the hostile environments waiting above and below them.

**********  
  


Most people in Southampton who had the affluence and leisure time to do so were out enjoying the sunshine in between the spring rains. There were a thousand and one things to do when the weather was fine, and the well-to-do liked to pack in as much fun as possible between dawn and dusk. It was only natural to want to do so.

There were a few residents, however, who were far too busy for such trivial things, and one young lady in particular who hadn't seen the sun in weeks. For days and days, Relena hardly left the confines of Sutherby House as she oversaw renovations. There was no public announcement that the glorious old estate was being gutted in a multitude of places, simply a few private and confidential calls to reliable contractors who had been parading in and out of the building ever since her return from Morocco. The house was being updated for some secret purpose, and only a tiny circle of people knew what was going on.

She sat, as usual, in the inner sanctum library with no windows, growing ever paler as she crunched numbers by flickering orange gaslight. There were so many things to keep track of and every one of them seemed absolutely critical. Relena felt that she had to do it all, because that was the only way it was going to get done properly. So focused was the girl on her furious pencil-scratching that she failed to notice Lucrezia entering the library until she was standing right in front of Relena's work table. Eventually she glanced up, re-rolled up the sleeves of the plain beige peasant dress she wore, but then kept right on working. "What can I do for you?" she asked in a bland tone.

Lucrezia looked tired, but not _as_ tired. She too had been putting in some long hours, but for every hour she used to work out battle strategies, she spent two simply reuniting with her beloved. It left her with a very healthy, rosy glow, a dreadful contrast to Relena's prison pallor. "I wondered if we could talk."

"I'm really very busy right now--"

"It'll only take a moment..."

With a churlish pout, Relena eventually put her pencil down and sat back in her chair with her arms sternly folded. Though she didn't feel that she was actively and purposely making Miss Noin feel unwelcome, it happened all the same. It had been happening since Morocco, when her brother unilaterally announced that Lucrezia was joining the team. Walking around to the guarded side of the table, Lucrezia gathered up her white lace-trimmed dress of darkest possible turquoise and perched on the edge, looking down at Relena like a non-threatening but quick-with-an-honest-opinion aunt. "Now, tell me why you're pushing me away."

Relena blinked innocently, still looking down at the desk. "I'm not."

"We were practically best friends a few months ago," said Lucrezia. "Now you're keeping secrets stacked on top of secrets...aren't you dying to tell me what this is all about, like you would anything else?"

"Why don't you ask my brother?" Relena snarked.

Lucrezia leaned down towards her, propped up on one arm with the other draped across her lap, displaying a tiny, whimsical smile. "I'd rather hear it from you."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

Relena's neck muscles tensed up and then released, briefly exposing angry cords carrying tension up and down her form. "Because I can't stop wondering whether or not I can trust you," she said sharply. "I started losing faith in people when I found out about the Cinq Association...and then to find out that you were _working_ for one of them--"

"I was a _prisoner_," Lucrezia reminded her with equal acerbity. "Lord Jeffrhyss used my fear of being discovered by my family as leverage to keep me as his office girl, and I hardly think that counts as employment."

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" Relena countered desperately. "How do I know _anyone's_ telling me the truth anymore? For all I know, you could have plotted all of this out very carefully just to lure my brother into a trap! How can I believe you or anyone else after what I've been through?"

It was a sad reality, that the poor girl had been through so much, and that the damage to her trust might have been irreparable, but Lucrezia held out hope for the scrap of confidence that might have remained. "There's probably nothing I can do or say that will change your mind except see our problems through to the finish. Until then...you're in a bit of a spot, because you've got no one else to talk to. Certainly, Milliardo's a fine conversationalist, when he gets going...but you'll never have a 'girl chat' with him, not like you and I used to have..." She saw her argument beginning to take effect and smiled a wily smile, knowing she was striking at Relena's biggest weakness--the need to network. "Milliardo and I are going to be married one day, which means you and I will be sisters.....and sisters shouldn't be this way with each other. If your own brother can trust me, I think you should too."

A calming defeat was settling in around Relena. She _did_ miss talking to people. The workmen were off-limits to her because of their social stature, Otto was gone, Pegan was too old to understand most of her viewpoints, and her brother, try as he might to make her happy, was still just a man. She hadn't had a good gossip session in so long, and had so little except the house to gossip about, that she felt ready to burst if she didn't find _someone_ to drench in her most valuable information. Swayed ever so subtly by Lucrezia's debating technique, Relena smiled widely, shifted giddily in her chair and leaned forward, sitting up quite straight and flipping her hair over her shoulder. "It's all rather exciting, actually...it's been awful not being able to share it with my friends."

Lucrezia hopped off the edge of the table and pulled up a chair next to her. "Tell me all about it."

"Well!" After rubbing her hands together gleefully, Relena turned to her left where a stack of papers decorated the table top, and pulled out several large sheets from the bottom, spreading them out flat before her. They appeared to be architectural drawings, and there were quite a lot of them. "This house has been in my family for generations, but we've hardly used it in recent years. Aside from occasional parties and spending the winters when we felt like it, we rarely bothered with it even when Father was alive, so I don't think he'd protest if we put it to good use. To make it into the Cinq Association, we need a steady income, something that's gone downhill over the last few years. Father's investments were frittered away, and I know it was a mistake putting the finances in Uncle Treize's hands...he probably helped himself to whatever he felt was his share along the way.

"Since our net worth is a bit limited, we've decided to use the resources we already have," she added, turning over to a newer, more complicated drawing that made assumptions about what the renovated house would look like, all while peppering her speech with enthusiastic little hand twirls. "We're turning this place into a luxury hotel and conference centre, with a bit of a health spa thrown in, and lots of outdoor activities! We have the financial backing of some of the family's closest friends, in exchange for special perks, and adding that to our gold reserves and a minor loan from the bank, we'll _just_ be able to finish the renovations, hire some staff, and officially open in the fall, in time to welcome the seasonal crowd. It's the _new_ money we're after...businessmen and investors who can't trace their lineage back for centuries. The Empire will never be the way it was before, where the oldest power always won out...but instead of fighting it, we've got to take advantage of it, by attracting the newly wealthy who don't have summer homes to go to yet. That's the plan so far, and I do believe we're going to meet our deadline."

"Sounds impressive," said Lucrezia, and the tension level in the room finally hit bottom. They were on speaking terms again, which was good, but it was only half of the work she had to do to get the Peacecrafts sorted out properly. During the remainder of her conversation with Relena, during which she smiled and chatted and did everything girlfriends were supposed to do, she was amassing a second strategy to use on someone else, because a lot of harmful ideas were floating around Sutherby House, and they weren't being swept away with the workmen's dust.

**********  
  


Three times in the past week, Heero had tried to sneak up on Bridlewood to see Duo, but someone had gotten wise about the cellar window trick and squealed to Otto, and there were suddenly some very prickly hedges getting in his way. It would have been easier to scale the brick wall at the back property line, but that meant creeping across the lawn in broad daylight, or waiting until after dark, and with the days getting longer, no sooner would he be over the wall and up to the house then it would practically be time to turn around and head back to the pub. He was finally getting a glimpse into the tough travelling times Duo had been complaining about all along.

The best solution was still for Heero to find a job, and then find a place to live that was closer to the Manor, but even after taking Catherine's advice he wasn't having much success. He scoured the commercial neighbourhoods closest to Bridlewood, five blocks in all directions, but only ever got as far as his name and a convoluted description of his work experience to date before the prospective employer lost interest. Perhaps it was his age that was scaring them away, or his accent--he couldn't be sure what error he was committing, even when he tried to be sweet as sugar to them. It left him awfully discouraged, and more out-of place than he had ever felt before. Never in the years he had been working for Jeffrhyss had he ever been made to feel like he didn't belong.

_What am I doing wrong?_ he wondered, walking across a bridge that spanned a creek somewhere in the suburbs with his hands in his pockets. _I've done everything Catherine said...'Smile and tell them your name, firm handshake, list your credentials, maintain eye contact, speak clearly and...'_ The last of Catherine's words of wisdom got lost for awhile, and then snapped back to echo soundly over and over. _...and be yourself._

There was no self to be. That might have been the problem.

Heero stopped mid-way across the bridge, ignoring the sunny day, the green grass, the blue water, and the twittering birds, and leaned over the edge to look at his distant reflection, rippled and faded like a projection on a stained glass window. _They don't want anything to do with me, because they don't know me...and I can't tell them who I am, because...I don't know either._

He thought as long as he had Duo to tell him what he _should_ be feeling, and had some idle task with which to occupy himself, it would be enough. But it wasn't enough. Since he was old enough to hold a firearm, there had been a higher purpose designed for him, and in the act of taking a potshot at his master, he threw it all away. His bridges were severely scorched now, and even if he had been able to keep his job at Bridlewood, it was a temporary solution at best. How any ordinary person could find and keep a higher purpose comparable to the one he once owned was beyond him, and that oversight was what ultimately set him apart. Until he could learn to simply exist like them, he would never be one of them; as long as he equated this with squashing himself into the same tiny box as everyone else, he would remain in an even smaller box.

Pushing himself off the stone edge of the bridge, he walked swiftly back toward town, looking for a distraction before he gave himself another crushing headache. Fate could have led him in any direction, but after following the one he randomly chose for about half an hour, he started to see familiar blurs that seemed out of place. There were two, one tall and well-dressed, and the other slight with jet black hair. He tailed them at a distance through various city streets, long enough to determine that one of them was following the other, and the blur that was being targeted had no idea of it. As Heero edged closer to the slim blur in white, he realized with some surprise that it was Wufei.

Wufei was dressed in his usual plain white garments, except for sturdier shoes than he normally wore. Feeding his obsession, he had been watching Treize like a hawk and had followed him on one of his routine trips into town, taking down notes in a little notebook with his standard-issue retractable pen. While Trieze was busy in an ultra-fashionable tie boutique, off on another tangent of propping up his ego by adorning himself in the finest of everything, Wufei paused across the busy street, in the narrow alley between two tall brownstones. Still, even while he was heavily engaged in watching the store window while Treize tried on a few dozen silk ascots, he was aware of a presence behind him, and laughed his most mocking inner laugh at the approaching force attempted to sneak up on him. _Fool!_ he thought, and he spun in place, aiming a fist at the approximate location of the intruder's head. It was expertly deflected into the brick wall faster than he could wince at the pain of his scraped knuckles, and he growled as Heero's face came into focus.

"_Don't do that_!!" he snarled.

Heero smirked. "Do what?"

"Some people shouldn't be allowed to have free time," Wufei murmured before turning back to focus on the window.

"Just what I was thinking." Heero looked over his rival's shoulder at the store window, saw Treize, and leaned back to look at the back of Wufei's head with a peculiar sense of pity. "How long have you been at this, exactly?"

"Long enough to establish a reliable pattern of behaviour," Wufei crowed, jotting steadily in his notebook. "I know what time Treize gets up in the morning, where he buys his newspapers, right down to which way he turns out of the front door when he goes on his evening walk. When I decide to take action, he won't suspect a thing. And then I'll _pounce_..." He trailed off, totally absorbed in the thrill of voyeurism. He didn't even know that he had just blabbed his master plan to the one person who was in a significant position to stop him.

Heero stared at him sadly. _That used to be me,_ he thought, unable to tell whether he missed it or not. At least Wufei had something to do, even if it stemmed from an unhealthy inner haunting. _Look at him...he doesn't have official orders or even an endorsement from Jeffrhyss. He's completely cut off from the power structure, and yet he keeps on at his 'work'._ As he watched Wufei furiously jotting, he realized something else, something that made him twitch. _No one's come after him, to reclaim him. No one's come looking for me since Morocco, either. I thought they would have by now, but they haven't. Could they have lost interest in us completely? ...in Wufei, perhaps...but Jeffrhyss has good reason to haul me in for punishment, whether I claim to belong to him or not. Why hasn't he made his move? What's he waiting for?_

Minutes ticked by, with Wufei still jotting and Heero still puzzling, until he dared to tap Wufei on the shoulder. "Do you keep in touch with any of your old contacts?"

Wufei didn't turn around. "A few. Why?"

_I'm not sure yet...still thinking._ "Do any of them try to keep in touch with you for a reason?"

"Not really. If I need something, I look them up. They're usually willing to do me a favour, for a price."

Establishing that Wufei wasn't totally out of the loop finished off the calculations in Heero's head, and he rubbed the fingers of one hand together briskly as he delved further. "Could you do something for me?"

"Ha! Why?"

Heero chose to ignore that. "I was hoping you could keep your ear to the ground...listen for chatter among other agents, if you happen to be around any."

Mild curiosity kept Wufei from brushing off the request, but he still wasn't ready to show actual interest by turning around. "What am I listening for, exactly."

"...my name," said Heero. "My...status. If they're discussing me on any level, I want to know about it." _I might get advance warning if there's still danger ahead, and if there's nothing...maybe that's what's holding me back with Duo. Maybe I'm worried about unfinished business that could put him...put us both in danger. Maybe I can't relax until I know, one way or the other._

Wufei shrugged. "I suppose I could...but I'm not guaranteeing I'll come up with anything."

That was about as amiable as Wufei got. Heero smiled slightly at the back of his head, clapped him on the shoulder, and left him to his studies. If he hadn't been so focused on his own problems, he might have really heard the talk about pouncing on Treize and done something about it, but it slipped his mind completely. They parted without another word, or another thought.

**********  
  


Of course, Lucrezia already knew about the plans to turn the country house into a hotel and health spa, but it was worth hearing the epic saga a second time if it meant that she and Relena were friends again. Next, she had to sort out the other sibling, and she had a feeling that this one would be much more difficult.

During the renovation process, certain areas of the house were being set aside as 'staff only', and the areas that would be needed by the family were included. The library, main bedrooms, downstairs kitchen area and a host of other rooms were invisbly marked out as forbidden to visitors, and some rooms were already being rapidly transformed for the family's use. One of these was an old sitting room that had long ago had its furniture removed for fear of rising damp due to a hairline crack in the foundation, right under the window. Milliardo had it gutted, had new flooring installed, had the walls stripped of their decorative wallpaper, and turned it into a miniature gymnasium, with just enough room for himself and one sparring partner, if he could ever find one; if he was going to fight amongst the veterans of Cinq, plain old army training probably wouldn't be enough to help him. He spent almost as much time in that gym working on his fighting technique as Relena spent in the library, trying to make columns of numbers add up properly.

In recent weeks, he had gone from boxing to fencing to target shooting, basically everything he had already learned in some form from his army days but at a much higher level. He brought in a series of experts on one-to-one combat to help perfect his style, and when he felt he had exhausted their resources, he branched out into more exotic forms of individual warfare. Now he was practicing with a long wooden staff, swinging and jabbing at an imaginary opponent, dressed in a loose-fitting bathrobe-like garmet of white terry cloth, and no shoes. Lucrezia thought it was similar to what Heero wore in his own gym, but it was somehow less authentic. After a long, choreographed series of blows with the staff that covered the entire length and breadth of the polished hardwood floor, he brought the wooden rod down sharply with a solid 'thwap', crushing the skull of an imaginary enemy. He then rose from his crouch, gazing at the floor, and stalked off in another direction, fuming at himself. "Not good enough."

Lucrezia had been leaning against the doorway the entire time, watching with her arms folded. If it had occurred under any other circumstance, she might have found the display of raw, male, muscular prowess quite alluring, but it was kept under a dark cloud of conspiracy that forever tainted it in her eyes. "How are you supposed to know what 'good enough' is?"

"I just know," he said, pacing back and forth with the staff dragging behind him. It was times like this when it could be very difficult to get a read on his emotions. His smoky voice rarely changed timbre even under extreme duress, which meant that a person could push him over the brink of self-control without any audible warning.

Still, Lucrezia was confident that no matter how angry he got, he would never strike her, so she pressed forward. "You need to talk to Relena about this. She's taking on way too much responsibility, and it's costing her."

"I can't discourage her from doing what she feels needs to be done."

"'Needs to be done'!" she mocked in frustration. "I don't care about 'needs to be done,' I'm worried about her feeling she has to do it _all_! I've already tried talking you out of this damn fool adventure of yours, and it didn't work, so I won't try it again. I know I can call you crazy a million times to your face for trying this, and it won't do a bit of difference, so don't get defensive on me."

Milliardo stopped his pacing and actually sighed a sigh tinged with anger, a rare display indeed. He turned to face the doorway, looking her in the eye for the first time. "What exactly do you want to know?"

"I want to know if you've _both_ thought this through as well as you say you have. Joining up with those...those..._mercenaries_ and _terrorists_...that's not how a girl of sixteen should be spending her energy. She should be going to soirées with that Marcus boy, and gabbing to her friends about the latest fashions, not organizing a plot to unbalance the power structure of the world!"

"You want me to send her away when I'm the only family she has left?"

"I want you to cut her loose!" Their escalating voices echoed back from the hallway, and it startled Lucrezia into calming down, lest Relena hear them arguing. "You and I can do this now. She doesn't have to have any part of it. And wouldn't you rather know she's safe somewhere else instead of dealing directly with the likes of Lord Jeffrhyss?"

"Would she really be safe?" Milliardo shook his head morosely. "No...the safest place for her to be is where I can protect her, and don't tell me I'm keeping her here for my own benefit, either. She was involved long before either of us, so she feels she has a right to confront the people who turned her life upside-down. If it weren't for Cinq, our father's murder wouldn't have been necessary. We _both_ have a right to this." As he let his final word sink in, he turned away, raised the quarter staff to the attack position at the start of his choreographed training sequence, and ended the argument there. "My instructor will be here this afternoon to gauge my progress. I have to get back to work."

He went straight into his succession of jumps, kicks, blows, and jabs, and Lucrezia watched for a little while, just in case he decided to re-open the topic, since she couldn't do it herself when he was in a mood like this. Soon, she gave up altogether. She thought she might try again the next day, or the day after that, because she wasn't convinced that the Peacecraft siblings were necessarily doing the right thing. After hearing the extended explanation from Milliardo weeks before, not just about the renovations but about everything, she decided it was totally unsafe, and that they were both headed down the road to disaster.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Eighty-Two: Duo gets a visit from an old friend, and it sends him into a downward spiral of guilt, while Heero believes he's pinpointed the secret to getting hired. Quatre receives news from abroad on the fate of his family._

It's Mother's Day tomorrow! =^_^= I hope you've all arranged for your cards/gifts/flowers/special dinners, because it's a little late now. =P *lol* I got my Mom some pretty soaps and hand lotion from the Body Shop, and my brother got her some nifty earrings and perfume. Now we just have Father's Day to shop for...hm... *eyes Future Shop* Anyway! The new temporary site is working out not too badly, a pop-up here and there but overall, not a problem. We DO plan to move to permanent quarters eventually (might not be for a couple months, though) and then we'll be able to do a total site makeover because we won't have those stinkin' ads getting in the way! =^o^= Next episode will be May 24th, and that will be Bridlewood's SECOND ANNIVERSARY! YAAAAAY! ...don't be expecting a huge episode as a form of celebration, though. =P Just a normal-sized one will do, I think. Hm...also... *looks at one of our happy couples* ...I'm wondering whether or not I'll have to slightly raise the rating on this fic soon...it's a possibility that we might surpass PG-13 very shortly... =}


	82. Stay

**Disclaimer:** If the Easter Bunny gave anyone any chocolate pilots, I wanna know about it. =P (Oh, and, all the best characters in this story were made by someone else, darnit. So don't sue me.)

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Eighty-Two: Stay

_"Give me the benefit of your convictions, if you have any; but keep your doubts to yourself, for I have enough of my own." ~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe _

May 24th, 1903

This was the last stand. The final battle. The ultimate risk. If this didn't pay off, he would have to pack it in for sure. All his other resources had been exhausted without any gains and the whole ordeal was about an inch away from not being worth the trouble.

Only a few ticks of the clock past dawn, Tristan approached the doorway to the conservatory, constantly looking behind him as he advanced on the mere balls of his feet. He hadn't been getting anywhere with anybody, and it was frustrating. If only one of the beautiful people he worked with had been willing to oblige him with the naughty boy's spanking he had wanted so badly, he was sure they would have become great friends. As it was, zilch.

Finally, Tristan rubbed his hands together and made his move, vanishing into Bridlewood's miniature greenhouse with the singular purpose in mind of trying the last remaining avenue of affection open to him. All was unusually quiet outside in the hallway, and a passer-by who might have seen Tristan go in could have easily gotten the impression that he at last found a willing body with which to play his favourite games.

Tristan backed out of the conservatory in slow motion with his hands in the air. He was followed by the point of a thin sword held an inch from his chest. The sword was followed by an arm, and the arm was attached to Quatre. The gardener was not amused. He backed Tristan slowly up into the opposite wall, now back to wearing his usual pale pastel clothes for indoor duties, and despite the frilliness of his colour choices, he didn't look like he was going to take any guff from anybody.

"If you have to use your grabby hands instead of your voice to say something," Quatre said, slowly and with purpose, "I don't think I want to know what it is." His own voice was fierce yet icy, sending out a clear, unspoken warning. After a moment, he lowered the sword, but kept it at the ready.

Flushed with both defeat and embarassment, Tristan grabbed the front of his red uniform jacket with both hands and yanked down sharply to straighten it, vainly attempting to salvage his pride even as his nose and ears were turning bright crimson. "You're all nutters," he blurted angrily, and as Quatre's eyes followed, he walked away and quickly picked up speed as he fled the scene, mortified but indignant.

He went straight to Otto and tendered his resignation.

**********  
  


There was a morning shower in Southampton, just enough to give the flowers a drink, and then it stopped, much to Marcus' delight. He had made an express journey to the Peacecrafts' country estate, driven by a touch of spring fever, and didn't want his one perfect day tainted by an excess of rain. He was wearing one of his favourite outfits, a velvety forest green frock coat--not necessarily in style anymore, but still his most cherished--over fawn trousers, a silvery-patterned waistcoat, and a brown satin ascot tie. It was the same outfit he wore the day he was introduced to Relena, plus a few alterations to allow for expanding shoulder breadth, hence its peculiar significance.

Marcus patted one of the great stone lions on the nose as he walked the long gravel path from the gates to the front door, surrounded by austere pillars, pretty planters full of new spring blooms, and the odd horse and cart belonging to a tradesman. One was marked as belonging to a plasterer, and another was the property of a plumber. There were surely many more like them around the back. Marcus smirked to himself as it seemed that Relena's crazy idea of opening a hotel was beginning to take shape.

He hopped up the front steps to the sprawling mansion and took a few deep breaths, talking himself up to actually ringing the doorbell. In his right hand, quivering slightly, was a bouquet of tulips, tiger lilies, and bright green ferns all wrapped in decorative paper. He held it in front of him like a shield, and yet it seemed to be sapping his defensive energies the longer he possessed it. After running a hand through his unorthodox mane of wavy tan hair for the umpteenth time, he took a flying leap and yanked on the bell pull, bobbing around nervously from one foot to the other.

When the door eventually opened, Marcus froze briefly. It was only Pegan standing in front of him, but still. "Can I help you?" the butler asked in a fatherly way.

".....I would...I would speak to like with Re--.....I would _like_ to _speak_ with...Miss Relena," he croaked out, clearing his throat once or twice along the way. "...well, I mean, I don't know if I _can_, that's what I'm supposed to ask first, 'can I,' or '_may_ I,' rather. Please. Mustn't forget 'please,' or what would you think of me?" He laughed a jittery, uneasy laugh. "Um...is she.....is she in?"

Pegan smiled at the boy, thinking back to an incident between himself and the father of a certain Miss Fannie Pettigrew when he was no more than seventeen, also involving a bouquet of flowers and a temporary speech impediment. "Do come in, Mr. Wyndham," he entreated, stepping away from the door.

Marcus expressed his hasty and embarassed thanks as he all but jumped into the marble-tiled foyer, and Pegan retreated to the inner depths of the house to fetch Miss Peacecraft. Upon hearing who was standing in the front hall, Relena gratefully dropped what she was doing in the library and was halfway there before she remembered she was wearing a dismal dress, no jewellery, and not a lick of her subtle maquillage. She started on a detour up to her room to make herself up, stopped, berated herself for still being at least partly obsessed with her looks, began rushing back down the stairs, stopped again, reminded herself that it was _Marcus_ waiting for her after all, and then wheeled back up to her room, deciding she could bend her principles as far as a pinch of rouge and a nicer dress. Marcus could hear the frantic and distant footsteps changing direction, but couldn't make heads or tails of any of it.

Finally, dolled up to a minimal degree, Relena came down the main staircase in a dress of lavender chintz with tiny roses on it, all smiles. "Marcus!" she twittered happily, trotting down the stairs in poor brown shoes that she forgot to change, but also that Marcus didn't seem to notice. Her eyes lit up when she saw the bouquet. "Are those for me?"

"For the loveliest flower in the whole of England," Marcus delivered in an exquisitely-rehearsed phrase as he handed the bouquet over, the first thing he had said all day without stuttering.

Relena let herself squeal just a little bit as she took the flowers and cradled them adoringly. "They're beautiful..."

"Rumours are flying about what you're doing to this place, and if any of them are to be believed, you must be working _very_ hard. I thought you needed a surprise."

"Oh, I _did_," she agreed emphatically, after giving the blossoms an extended, luxurious sniff. "I'll fetch Pegan back so he can put them in some water, he won't have gone too far. Would you like to put your feet up in the main parlour? It's one of the few rooms left that hasn't been mauled beyond recognition..."

This was the tricky part. "Actually," Marcus ventured, rubbing his hands together as a reflex, "I've also come to have a brief word with your brother, if I could see him before we get into a really deep 'catch up on things' chat."

Relena didn't find this to be the least bit strange. She nodded brightly. "Of course! He's in the library right now with Miss Noin. I'll show you the way." Turning quickly to the centre of the house, she stepped lightly along, leading Marcus past vast areas of ongoing renovations, with brusque but precise workmen plying their trades over miles of white drop cloth. She took him straight into the library without stopping to talk to anyone, and found her brother behind the well-used work table, crunching his fair share of the numbers. Lucrezia didn't appear to be present, and Milliardo looked up just at the point of his sister's arrival. "Look who's come to visit us!" Relena chirped merrily, still cuddling the flowers.

There was an unusally awkward silence as she left the men to their business. Milliardo only barely acknowledged Marcus, of whom his sister spoke from time to time, and always with a smile tickling her lips. Marcus kept his hands in his pockets and looked around, partly for a place to sit and partly for a sign of acceptance. He could locate neither. "...your Lordship?" he begged quietly.

"I am not 'Lord' Peacecraft," Milliardo corrected sternly, still looking down at invoices and financial statements.

"Sorry," said Marcus sheepishly. He ambled up to the desk, in the absence of a chair, still very non-threatening. "Um...could I have a word?"

Milliardo begrudgingly put down his pen and folded his hands on the mahogany table, gazing out through wisps of platinum hair obscuring his eyes like a self-protective cage. The gas lamp on the corner of the table gave the whole scene a mystical orange luminescence, and perhaps an over-inflated sense of gravity. "If you must."

Marcus blanked out for a moment, once again snowed under by nerves, but he made a rapid recovery, leaning forward enough to just brush the tabletop with his fingertips. "This is bound to be a bit odd, no matter how you slice it, but circumstances bein' what they are.....what I'm trying to say is, this is something I should have liked to discuss with your father, but in his stead...well, I'm reasonably positive that you _are_ the right person to talk to.

"I've come to...ask your permission.....to court your sister, officially." Marcus glanced down, hoping the gaslight would hide his faint blushing. "I come from an old-fashioned family, you see. We like to do things properly. So...with that in mind, I'd like to build the first cordial bridge between your family and mine by...declaring my intentions." He was lucky he could speak at all by the end, but he got it all out, and breathed an inner sigh of relief.

Milliardo was appalled. He seemed like a nice boy and everything, but his sister was presently engulfed in a global _war_. It was hardly the time to be playing doctors and nurses behind the bicycle shed with her sweetheart. Even he himself had stepped back from Lucrezia a bit in recent weeks, choosing to focus his attention on more wordly matters. "I doubt she'll have time," he said rather curtly.

"...for what?"

"For _you_." Irked, Milliardo slapped the stylograph that laid on the table, clasped his fist around it, and threatened to squeeze the ink out from both ends. "Her priorities have changed. She can no longer afford the personal luxuries that ordinary people enjoy, and at the top of that list is fanciful ideas about romance." Little did the man realize that during his tirade, Lucrezia was creeping out of the shadows with two books tucked in the crook of her arm, listening with interest. "If you want to do her a favour, just leave her be," he continued in ignorance. "Under current circumstances...I cannot endorse anything more."

Marcus looked like a kicked puppy. "You're not...going to give us your blessing?"

Milliardo rotated the pen around in his hand, leaned forward over the papers, and got back to work. "I have none to give."

It went deathly quiet in the library. Marcus looked from side to side, evaluating the possibility that the elder Peacecraft was simply in a rotten mood, and that he would have gotten the same response no matter _how_ nicely the subject had been brought up. Milliardo failed to look up at all after that, so Marcus had little choice but to grovel backwards out of the room, as quietly and unobtrusively as he could. He slipped away from the library, determined to enjoy the rest of his visit with Relena by not revealing her brother's opinion, and as soon as he was gone, Lucrezia stepped out of the shadows, looking miles away from happy herself. She strode up to the table, waited for Milliardo to look up and acknowledge her, and when he failed, slammed the books she was carrying down onto the table with frightening force.

At last, he looked up. "Something the matter?" he asked, only half-trying to sound interested if something was.

"I heard what you told that poor boy," Lucrezia said, icy-faced and sounding more than miffed. "What do you mean, interfering in Relena's friendships like that!?"

"I wasn't interfering. _He_ came to _me_. And it's up to me to set people straight when they start inflicting their over-romanticized selves on my family. Relena doesn't have room in her life for that sort of thing anymore."

Lucrezia slowly paced away from him, to the corner of the table, and tilted her head slightly towards him, her entire manner turning positively ghostly. "Does that apply to us as well?"

The scene froze. All the effort each of them had expended to return to each other's company, the months upon months spent either being smuggled across Europe or walking the frontlines of the Boer War, all of the heart-wrenching angst over the horrible separation they had endured, all of that was called into question in the blink of an eye. Suddenly it wasn't just a momentary withdrawal of affection that was taking place, something Lucrezia had told herself was to be expected what with all the pressure Milliardo was heaping on himself, but a saddening about-face that was threatening to make itself permanent. On top of all this, he still hadn't said anything to reassure her.

Eventually, Lucrezia turned her head back to centre and walked back into the shadows without uttering another word.

**********  
  


There was a lot of wisdom in everything Catherine had to say on the subject of seeking employment, which was rather surprising when one took into account that she had only ever had one job herself. Her advice was succinct, valuable, and well thought-out, but in spite of all this, she had missed one very important point, and Heero felt certain that he knew what that point was.

He thought about it as he chose his clothes that morning; the black suit, however faithful, was getting a bit worn in places, so he swapped it for his casuals in various shades of beige, but being well-dressed or not wasn't the point Catherine missed. He thought about it as he contemplated his breakfast in a middle-class café; after watching those socially above him eating their meals, he noticed that he had been holding his knife and fork in the wrong hands all this time, but being well-mannered at the table wasn't the point Catherine missed either. He stopped thinking about it for awhile when he passed a candy shop, pausing long enough to buy some butterscotch sweets for Duo. Thinking of his friend reminded him of how disappointed the chef would be if he found out what Heero was planning to do, but a little avoidance and perhaps a white lie or two would fix that.

Hiding the little paper sack of hard candies in the pocket of his camel-coloured jacket, he proceeded directly to the address he had picked out of the newspaper the day before, in a well-to-do but not overly snobbish business district. He made it to the appropriate door without incident, and took a moment to read the sign. It was an employment agency.

A bell hanging just over the door gave a cheery chime as the door was opened and a handsome young man in a tan suit stepped in. He had a healthy aura of confidence and eyes of a determined sort of blue, which reasonably made up for his messy dark brown hair. Opposite him, in a chair behind a smart-looking desk behind another chair, was a bespectacled man of about thirty-five with thinning hair and a bushy moustache, in keeping with the current men's styles. When the young man entered, he looked up from his desk immediately and smiled. "Good morning, may I be of assistance?" he asked in a chipper accent.

The young man took the plain wooden chair in front of the desk and looked around the little office, populated also by two busy lads with their heads buried in their own work, not much older than he was. There was a tastefully understated decorating scheme, with photographs of local landmarks and a few potted plants, making it moderately welcoming, but still very professional. "You may, if you can find a position worthy of my peculiar talents," the dark-haired youth said with self-assurance.

"That _is_ why we're here," the balding man said with a smile, opening a drawer in his desk and taking out some papers. "We can start a new file on you right away. Your name, sir?" He held his fountain pen at the ready, awaiting a reply.

This was where the important point Catherine missed was about to come into play, and also where Duo would have had a few choice words to spout on the subject of being true to one's self, had he been present. The dark-haired lad crossed his legs casually and balanced his clasped hands on one knee, the picture of serenity. "Harvey Young," said he.

"Harvey...Young," the balding man repeated as he wrote the name down at the top of the registration form. Then he squinted and looked up. "Do pardon me for asking this, sir, but are you an American?"

Here came the second blow. "Yes, I am," said the boy with a faint smile.

"I should warn you straight away, in order to be employed properly anywhere in the British Empire, you'll need the proper paperwork..."

Mr. Young barely blinked at the problem. "I can get you anything you need by tomorrow." Indeed, there was a more than sufficient set of credentials sitting in the writing desk of one Heero Yuy. After many months of disuse, the alias was finally coming in handy.

"Excellent!" the balding man cheered, adjusting his specs. "I'm sure there won't be any problems at all, in that case. Now, before we can start matching you up with prospective employers, we'll need to complete this worker profile..." And so went the rest of the interview, as Mr. Young answered the next fifty questions with grace and good humour, providing a sugar-coated version of his work experience to date.

On the inside, Heero sighed with a pinch of sadness when it became clear that his suspicions were correct. Not every door was open to a foreigner like him. The farther removed one was from the English 'norm', the more likely that person would end up in the sweatshops, and the slums. Certain groups might get slightly better treatment, for political reasons, such as the Americans, the east Indians, and perhaps even the French, but the Japanese were barely a blip on the map to the average English employer. Hardly worth considering.

Harvey Young, however, was potentially in very high demand, and was told so during his interview. Harvey Young could do just about anything he wanted.

**********  
  


"...and that's the _proper_ way to tell if a loaf of bread is done," said Merlyn, after she turned her fresh-baked loaf onto a wire rack and rapped on the bottom, creating a hollow knocking sound. "Of course, I wouldn't expect _you_ to know that, why, you're just a child!" she laughed as she patted Duo on the head. They were standing at the kitchen table--or rather, Merlyn was standing and smiling, and Duo was slouched right over the wooden slab in agony, propped up by two weary arms. The perky redhead didn't seem to notice. "Now, if you're baking _baguettes_, that's an entirely different matter, and here's what you do..."

Duo could have sighed audibly, but he knew it wouldn't make a darned bit of difference. She wouldn't listen. She never listened. She would keep on pontificating to him about the best way to do everything in _his_ kitchen until her voice gave out or he hit her over the head with a cast iron frying pan. So far, neither one had ever happened.

"...and then in the fall of '96, I was selected to join the kitchen of Francois Dupris, and _that_ was a wonderful day, let me tell you! And the _food_! Now, _those_ people are _really_ on the cutting edge of cuisine. Did I ever tell you about the time I met the creator of the Orange Chocolate Brioche that won top honours at the Seine Valley Cooking Competition in '93? I was out choosing eggplants, when..."

She was a bragging machine. Duo met the creator of the Waldorf Salad, but he didn't ram it down peoples' throats at every opportunity. He leaned heavily on both arms, hung his head, and counted to ten. _God, please, make her stop. Give me some kind of interruption. Make the phone ring. Make it rain with thunder and lightning. Make the roof cave in. Just shut her up for five minutes! Puh-leeeze!! I'll take anything, you hear me!? I will take absolutely any kind of interruption!!_

The back door to the kitchen opened, and Merlyn stopped speaking at last. Two scruffy men in overalls and tweed caps entered without invitation, carrying a toolbox each, and walked right past the pair at the kitchen table and into the little room off to the side that contained the guts of the bell pull system. Without so much as a word of greeting, they set down their toolboxes, armed themselves with this instrument and that, and set to work dismantling the massive board of bells.

Yes, it shut Merlyn up, but Duo wasn't sure that this was really what he had asked for. He stomped into the bell room and poked one of the workmen in the shoulder, hard. "Hey! Whaddaya think you're doing!? Who said you could come in here and start mucking around with things!?"

"I did," said an unpleasantly familiar nasal voice, and Bertram Augustus stepped out of the stairwell, staring Duo down. "The bell pull system was badly mangled by someone. These men are here to put it right."

If Duo hadn't become so paralyzed by the prospect of being put down in the butler's little leather book of evildoers, which could have cost him in the pocketbook, he would have whipped up a marvelous protest against the destruction of Heero's invention, but he couldn't muster the courage to do anything but stand and watch. The workmen began taking down the multitude of bells that both Heero and Duo had scoured the city to find, and it felt like just one more attempt by fate to erase all evidence that Heero had ever lived under that roof. Biting his tongue, Duo wrapped his arms tightly around himself and turned away from the bell room in a bit of a resigned gesture.

Satisfied that the chef was becoming much better trained in obedience, Bertram Augustus deemed him worthy to receive the information he had coming to him. "Very good. Now, if you're quite finished expressing your opinions, you have a visitor."

Duo looked up in surprise, letting his arms fall back at his sides as the thrill of the unknown tapped him on the shoulder. He never got visitors. There was hardly anyone out there who would _want_ to visit him, he thought, who couldn't just let themselves in through the back, unless it was Heero in disguise. "Who is it?"

"A relative of yours, I gathered," the butler said blandly. Had it been a visitor for a member of the family instead of one of the downstairs staff, he might have put more effort into remembering the name.

"I don't _have_ any relatives," Duo snapped back, scowling.

The butler began turning back toward the stairs, but paused to look down the end of his nose at Duo from head to toe, and flicked his eyebrows up in a mock apology. "My mistake for making assumptions based on appearances," he said. "You have my permission to go as far upstairs as the butler's pantry. Your visitor is waiting for you there." And then he left.

_Typical,_ Duo thought. _Most guests go to the parlour, but that's way too good for the likes of me, now. I wonder why he just didn't bring whoever it is down here..._ He waited a moment or two for the butler to get well ahead of him on the stairs, and then ascended, preparing himself as best he could for the new arrival.

**********  
  


After seeing that the workmen were well-established in the bell niche, and informing the chef of his caller, Bertram Augustus went looking for another member of staff on equally important business. An overseas telegram had arrived for the gardener, so he headed for his last reported location, which was the conservatory.

The glass-walled room overlooking the back patio seemed to be empty, except for the hundreds of potted green things all staring at the intruder. After only a moment's inspection, the butler was about to leave and search somewhere else when some faint motion outside on the lawn caught his attention. Mr. Sagheer and Mr. Barton were on opposite sides of a six-foot tree, a narrow evergreen with its roots balled up in burlap. They each had ahold of the tree at the base of the trunk and at the side of the burlap ball, and were shuffling the very heavy plant ever so gradually toward the exterior door, keeping it less than an inch off the ground. It was a difficult task, having to pick the tree up and move it half a step at a time while fully bent over at the waist, so in a rare display of empathy, Bertram Augustus opened up the French doors and propped them out of the way by sliding their locking pegs into the pre-drilled holes in the floor, then stepped back to observe at a safe, clean distance.

Trowa and Quatre very carefully brought the tree into the greenhouse, bit by bit, exchanging glances that seemed to communicate wordless volumes about the butler's presence. When they made it just inside the doorway, they stood at attention, politely waiting to hear what the man obviously had to say. As usual, the first words out of his mouth were a criticism. "Would you care to explain what _that_ is doing here?" he said acridly, nodding to the tree. "Even with my limited knowledge of botany, I do perceive that this is not an indoor plant."

In Trowa's mind, it would have made more sense to object _before_ they went to the trouble of bringing it inside, but Quatre understood that it was very uncouth to admonish the staff out in the open where the neighbours might see. "It's a replacement for one of the cedars at the back," he explained. "It's dying of root rot, and if I don't plug the hole with something the same size, it'll make the windbreak useless."

"Even so, why bring it in here?"

"Because I have to treat the roots of the new tree with a special solution before transplanting, not to mention how long it'll take to clean out the diseased soil the old one left behind, and this was the only day the tree farm could deliver, an--"

"Very well," the butler snapped him off, holding up a weary hand to stop him. He hadn't the faintest clue that he had just been fed a load of horticultural hooey, but by his own admission, he wasn't much of a botanist. "That's not why I'm here anyway," he continued, taking an envelope from his inside coat pocket and holding it out formally in his white-gloved hand. "Telegram for Mr. Sagheer."

The boys both stared at the outstretched envelope, but strangely, neither one moved. They gnawed on their lower lips, twiddled their fingers and glanced from side to side, but they couldn't seem to budge from their spots, tightly mashed up against either side of the tree. The butler was growing impatient, they could tell. "Fine," Quatre said hesitantly. "I'll just...walk up and get it from you...right now," he added, and he seemed to be talking to someone who wasn't even there, if that was possible. He slowly stepped away from the tree, and the stubby branches he was leaning against shifted down to fill the space he left behind.

Bertram Augustus squinted suspiciously at the pair of them. They were up to something, but he couldn't be sure what. Quatre took the telegram from him at last and smiled with a sweet 'Thank you,' even as he searched the other man's psyche for signs of skepticism. He did, however, have more important matters to deal with elsewhere in the house, so he left the boys to it, whatever it was, based on their fairly good records of obedience to date.

Quatre watched the butler leave, swallowing and feeling the tiny beads of sweat shift on the surface of his throat as he did so. Once the man was safely gone, he dashed to the door, closed it gently, and locked it. "All clear!"

Two tired sighs were heard from the direction of the cedar tree. One belonged to Trowa as he lurched away and massaged his lower back with one hand while brushing cedar sprigs off his green turtleneck with the other. The second sigh belonged to Heero, as he dove out from behind the tree, collapsed into a white iron filigree garden chair and bent over to rub his calf muscles. He had been tip-toeing and sidestepping into the house with the tree as cover, mindful of Otto's threat to have him arrested if he was caught on the property again. The last three minutes straight of holding a precarious position on the balls of his feet while barely breathing were by far the worst.

"Are you alright?" Quatre asked Heero, standing by his chair and leaning over a bit.

Heero frowned tiredly, disgusted at the lengths he had to go to in order to break into his old home. "If nothing else, it's convinced me _never_ to take up ballet."

"If you don't like that, you should try being a professional duckblind," Trowa snarked, still kneading his lower back.

"I owe you both dinner, if the warden will ever let you out of your cells to collect it," said Heero. Then he tilted his head towards the telegram as the other two each took an identical chair around the matching white iron table. "Good news?"

Quatre blinked at the telegram, which he hadn't hardly glanced at yet. He tore into the envelope, stamped with the insignia of the local telegraph office, and quickly examined the contents. "...it's from home!" he exclaimed. The other two looked at each other and leaned in to hear the rest. "Rashid says the fighting seems to have stopped! The last two of my sisters who were so fixated on winning the tontine _both_ died last week."

Trowa laid a hand on Quatre's arm without a thought. "I'm so sorry," he said right away. "Who's left now?"

"The ones who value the strength of our family more than money," Quatre answered, preparing to read further. "It seems the final pair who couldn't rid themselves of avarice had something of a showdown after one tracked the other down in a village north of our ancestral home. There was a fight...something about a street brawl...but before the locals could pull them apart, one of them was stabbed." He turned to the second page, already paling. "She died before anyone could get her to a doctor."

"What about the other girl?" Heero asked.

"...strange...this says she escaped the crowd and fled the village on horseback...but she was less than a mile down the road when the horse went mad and ran straight into a fifty-foot gorge." Quatre put the telegram down slowly, staring ahead and slightly down at nothing. "The horse must have smelled the blood on her hands and gotten spooked...but why wait until they were so far out of town?"

Trowa folded his arms thoughtfully and solemnly. "He realized he was all alone with a murderer..."

Heero glanced back and forth between the two of them, not unsympathetically, but anxious to get to the more crucial business. "Where does that leave the status of the tontine?"

"Well...several of us are still missing, including Nadia," Quatre said. "She's the oldest...and she also has her husband and children to think about. They could be captured, they could be just hiding. Rashid will do his best to make contact with the other survivors, and if they're all accounted for, we'll know Hassan doesn't yet have a way to collect his 'winnings.' If he was smart from the beginning, though, he would have taken someone before the fighting even began." He folded the pages back up and tapped the corner of the tidy package on the trellis-like table top. "I don't know how I'm going to get out of here to tell Yasmeen and the others. This house feels more like a prison every day, but I can't quit any more than Duo can. We both need the money to help our loved ones, in one way or another."

"I can pass along a message until you can get away," Heero offered.

Quatre handed him the telegram with a grateful smile. "I'd appreciate that."

"As urgent as this is," Trowa added, "it's not going to make it any easier for us to sneak out to do anything about it. The fellow who took over your job makes us sign a _chart_ when we want to leave the property, putting down where we're going, why, and how long we'll be gone, and there's a two-hour time limit!"

Quatre made a distasteful noise and shook his head. "You'd think he gets some sort of perverse pleasure out of locking us up with _Tristan_ all day!"

"Yeah!" Trowa chuckled bitterly.

Heero fell silent. ".....Tristan? ...Tristan's real?"

Quatre blinked at him again. "Of course he's real. What did _you_ think?"

".....um..." He wasn't sure anymore. When Duo brought him horror stories about Tristan the Bottom-Pinching Octopus, Heero assumed that, despite Duo's committment to truthfulness, he just invented the boy as part of some charmingly juvenile plot to make him jealous, but if Tristan was real, perhaps the threat he posed was also real. Maybe if Heero didn't supply Duo with all the affection he needed, he really _would_ be able to find it somewhere else. "...nothing, I must have misunderstood, that's all," Heero blurted, standing up. "I should go find Duo."

"Be careful," Quatre reminded him as he crept up on the door.

Heero opened the wooden slab a crack, peered down the hall, then glanced back at the others slyly. He couldn't let on to anyone that he had just been hurled face-first into a relationship crisis. "I'm always careful."

**********  
  


Duo puzzled and puzzled all the way upstairs. Who could possibly be so interested in seeing him, especially given the mood he was in lately? Buried just a thumbnail-scratch beneath his kind, calm surface was a boiling hot fire that he was unable to quench on his own. The flames licked at him from the inside out, scorching his skin in places where he could never reach. Every second that his heart continued to beat, he needed Heero twice as much as before, and he couldn't imagine any visitor who could take his mind off his maddening physical thirst.

As he rounded the corner into the little nook off the dining room, with the tiny wobbly table and the cupboards whose doors hung shakily on their hinges, the world turned upside down in an instant. Standing in the middle of what used to be Heero's only personal realm in the house, back turned and looking at the wine rack, was a woman in a pale blue dress with a long blonde braid hanging down below a wide-brimmed straw hat decorated with fresh flowers. Hearing movement behind her, she turned around, and a delicate heart-shaped face with a healthy, peaches-and-cream shine lit up with glee upon seeing Duo. Duo's jaw dropped, but he quickly picked it back up, grinning and laughing as he rushed forward and captured Helen in a giant bear hug. Helen hugged back just as hard, her strength restored at last, and let a few joyous tears escape unchecked. "Ohhh...me darlin'...me sweet, sweet darlin'!" she cried as they squeezed each other tightly. "How good it is to see you."

"You too!" With one last hug, Duo stepped back, still holding both of her soft hands, and gazed wide-eyed at how strong she seemed. "You look fantastic!"

"I've got you to thank for that," she said in her lovely Irish lilt. "You and your fine doctor friend. I never would have gotten well again without you both."

Duo let go of her hands and wiped what he was sure must have been a half-inch of sweat off his brow. "I can't get over this...I'm just in shock! I didn't know you were _coming_, much less that you weren't sick anymore!"

"I wrote you a letter to say I was coming to London, didn't you get it?"

Then and only then did Duo remember the letter he consciously chose not to read, because he was tired of Helen harping about his oh-so-sinful life. He couldn't let her know that he had practically thrown the letter away, but he couldn't lie either. He split the difference, and just hugged her again. "Oh, never mind! You're here! That's what really matters." The truth spoke for itself. Sure, Helen got on his nerves when she started getting all preachy with him, but he loved her like his own mother, if he could imagine what it felt like to have one. Oddly, he couldn't imagine forgetting about Heero either, but that happened too.

**********  
  


Early on in his struggles, Heero briefly considered hiding within Bridlewood's walls like Wufei once did, sleeping in a three-foot-wide niche on a bare wood floor and only coming out at night to hunt for scraps of food. He dismissed the idea for several reasons, reasons which became excuses as time went on. All in all, it was simply too uncomfortable, too risky, too boring to be sitting in the wall all day and having no one to talk to all night, as Duo would always need his sleep for the following morning. He wondered how Wufei managed it, then wondered how he himself managed it through years of training. It seemed so long ago now.

Otto may have had the police on his side, but Heero had the advantage of having memorized the entire layout of the mansion to tolerances of an inch or less, and he felt he knew his way around even better than the house steward did. He knew exactly where to stand in order not to be seen by a particular angle in particular lighting, and he knew where anyone was likely to stand in any place from the wear patterns on the floor. In this way, Heero crept up behind a tallish man in a long-tailed coat and white gloves without being noticed. The way he carried himself suggested arrogance, among other things, and that plus Duo's description made it a safe bet that this gentleman was the new butler. Heero was hiding across the hall from him, just inside a doorway, and he could have easily scooted past to get to the kitchen and deliver the bag of sweets to Duo, but for some strange reason which he couldn't figure out, he wanted to get a good look at the guy. Maybe it was envy, or maybe insecurity, but he would possibly never know, because no sooner had he begun a detailed distance inspection of the man than an interruption broke his rhythm of cognition.

"Sir! Sir!" The frantic call of a female voice prompted Heero to flatten himself back against the wall. Outside in the hall, pudgy Pearl and horse-faced Grace were running up to Bertram Augustus in a most untoward fashion. They were obviously in a state about something, and skidded to a halt just as the butler turned around to peer disapprovingly at them both.

"What is it?" he asked in a starchy tone.

"We've seen that prowler again, sir!" Pearl said loudly, gesturing at the general direction of the exterior wall Heero skirted along on his way in.

"...prowler," Grace echoed in a soft, gormless voice, grinning stupidly as if she invented prowlers in a previous life.

The butler frowned and leaned forward with his hands clasped behind him. "Was it _definitely_ the same one?"

Pearl nodded emphatically. "Oh, _yes_ sir! Not too tall, dark hair, but diff'rent clothes this time." She then rubbed her hands together nervously and looked down at the floor. "We...we wasn't sure whether or not you believed us last time, so we've been discussin' whether to tell you since it 'appened..."

"...happened," Grace echoed again.

"How long ago did you see him?"

"Ooh, not more than twenty minutes, I'm sure, sir," Pearl went on. "I spotted 'im from the window, an' we both watched him dive 'round the back and disappear!"

Heero wanted to beat his head against the wall. He was _sure_ he hadn't seen any faces in the window when he did his security check before dashing between the south wall and the hedge, but perhaps he just hadn't looked hard enough. A tiny peek out from behind the door frame revealed the answer--Pearl had a very dark complexion, and Heero had expected to see pale, pasty faces in the windows, if there were any. His own fault. Now these two housemaids knew he was lurking about the property, and they had just told the head of the household as well. If Otto found out, he was cooked.

"This is quite serious. I shall telephone the police at once." Bertram Augustus started toward the north hall, but paused to look sternly down at the girls. "You should have come to me with this immediately, do you understand? By arguing amongst yourselves, you may have given the prowler valuable extra time. Now...back to your duties."

Pearl lowered her gaze and curtseyed quickly. "Yes, sir, thank you, sir," she said before turning around and attempting to walk away, but Grace was still grinning at the butler as if she had no idea the conversation had ended on a disciplinary note. Pearl walked back a few paces, grabbed Grace by the arm, and pulled her away. Bertram Augustus twitched his moustache and went to telephone the police.

At that point, Heero decided to high-tail it to the kitchen before things went any further downhill. The butler went one way, the housemaids went the other way, and Heero nipped straight up the middle, into an empty hallway. It was a pity that there was no direct hallway between the greenhouse and the kitchen, because it forced him to loop around the service passage that connected the north and south halls behind the grand staircase at the front. This took him quite close to the dining room, which he never intended to visit, but he heard something familiar coming from that general direction that made him pause and draw nearer.

"...know you're settled here, but...I worry about you so very much." There was a woman's voice coming from somewhere. The dining room was empty, he observed, so he crept up on the swinging door to the butler's pantry and gave a listen.

"You don't _have_ to worry! I'm perfectly fine!" a second voice said.

_Duo?_ Squinting, Heero leaned back and looked at the door oddly. _Who's in there with you?_

"It's your _soul_ I'm concerned with, Duo," the woman's voice said, and it finally clicked into Heero's memory. The voice was Helen. It sounded much stronger than it did when he was sitting outside her bedroom on the top floor of a townhouse in Ireland while she and Duo caught up on life in general. "After all you've been through, I wouldn't ordinarily begrudge you a few friends, but I wish you could have chosen them more carefully. You're startin to establish yourself in the world now...you could have the same life anyone else your age is entitled to. A wife, and children, and a home of your own...please, I don't want you go go spoilin' it all for the sake of some misguided...infatuation."

Heero couldn't see it through the door, but Duo looked absolutely mortified. This was exactly what he was afraid of most. Even though he never really told Helen how he felt about Heero, somehow she knew, and she wasn't going to let up until she converted Duo back to the way of righteousness. She wasn't doing it to be mean, far from it, but it was irritating and scary nonetheless. He turned quite pale. "...what are you saying?"

Helen gazed sadly at her little potato dumpling, almost all grown-up. She reached out and stroked his cheek lightly. "I want you to come home with me...to Ireland."

Duo lost his voice. A moment later, Helen made a sympathetic sound and stepped forward to embrace him. He couldn't return it. He was frozen, staring over her shoulder at the wine rack, counting the bottles and not knowing why. "Swell," he said quietly. There was no medical explanation for the total loss of feeling in his arms and legs.

Heero backed away from the other side of the door, reaching a shaky hand behind him until he made contact with the nearest chair around the dining room table. Whatever training in psychology he had accumulated that he could still remember was failing him, badly. Why wasn't Duo telling her that leaving London was out of the question? It _was_ out of the question, wasn't it? Had he changed his mind about something? About everything? Was he going to leave? Was it too late to stop him, after being so wishy-washy on the subject of physical intimacy for so long? Had Duo finally given up? A ringing started up in Heero's ears, first one, then the other. Dizziness followed. Rejection was imminent. Escape was necessary. He didn't understand why it was necessary, but he needed it all the same.

Just as soon as the paper bag of sweets in his pocket crunched against the back of the chair, he found his legs again, and walked swiftly out. The first window he saw, he leapt out of, and he was around the corner and gone in a flash.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Eighty-Three: **CRISIS!!** A choice must be made while a grand love hangs by a thread. Duo struggles not only with moral issues but also with his mixed loyalties, while Heero asks himself how much is too much to sacrifice for an uncertain friendship._

Wow...two whole years. When I started this thing, I had no idea it would be going on as long as this...but all good things must (at least) come to an intermission, and the clock is ticking. (Don't panic, we've still got some time left, enough to see what happens with regards to... =^_^= ...but then if I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise, would it?) Next episode will be June 4th...and DON'T go anywhere that day. =^_~=


	83. Joining You READ THE WARNING!

**BIG-ASS WARNING:** ...you heard me. What lies ahead is not for the prudish. Semi-graphic sexual content of the shounen-ai variety, but not in a NC-17 you-must-sign-a-waiver-to-read-this kind of way. I'm not upping the rating on FFN because, as some people have quite rightly pointed out, anyone who's made it this far through the story sorta knows what to expect. But I _could_ have upped the rating, so you get an extended warning. I'm soooo deadly serious. Don't go on reading unless you're ready for it. (And you might wanna watch out for a kind of time-distortion, so I can show you the same moment from two perspectives.)

**Disclaimer:** These characters are used and abused without permission, I admit that. But they enjoy it. :)

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Eighty-Three: Joining You

_"Your love is better than chocolate,  
Better than anything else that I've tried." ~Sarah MacLachlan, "Ice Cream" _

June 4th, 1903

It really wasn't in Wufei's nature to be particularly helpful, but in the back of his mind he remembered his half-hearted promise to Heero, that he would keep an ear to the ground in case there was any chatter about him along Jeffrhyss' lines of communication. He was strangely eager to pass along what information he had gathered, and waited at the top of the stairs for Heero early that morning, pacing anxiously. When Heero emerged from his room, still yawning, Wufei strode right up to him and blocked his path.

"Do you have a minute?" he asked quickly, grabbing the drowsy lad by the arm before he could stumble down the stairs.

Heero wasn't having the best of weeks, and therefore wasn't in the best of moods. He scowled and took his arm back grumpily. "I suppose so."

Oddly, Wufei ignored the truculence of his reply. "It's just that I've been..." He paused, looked down either end of the hall, and resumed at a low whisper. "I've been listening for your name, like you asked me to."

That woke Heero up instantly, and they both looked down either end of the hall again, to make sure they weren't overheard, and then tramped halfway down the steps for good measure. "And?"

Wufei shrugged. "And nothing," he said simply. "I've asked around to all my old contacts, and none of them have heard so much as a peep about you from the higher echelons. I didn't believe it at first...I mean, the thought that you of _all_ people would get off without a scratch after shooting--"

"Keep your voice down!" Heero insisted with a hushing hand gesture.

"I don't see why," Wufei snarked. "If Jeffrhyss doesn't care that you're a trigger-happy lunatic, nobody else should. Just be grateful you're not being hauled in for disciplinary action."

It made little sense. After quite possibly maiming Lord Jeffrhyss, the organization as good as let Heero escape, and he still couldn't work out why, but perhaps Wufei was right. He nodded. "I appreciate the effort."

He nearly got down the stairs again for his breakfast, but Wufei caught him by the arm a second time. "Just a minute..."

"What, another one?"

"I did _you_ a favour, now I want to ask you something..." A third and final time, Wufei looked around for eavesdroppers, then moved closer, to an almost unnatural proximity. "The day you gave me this assignment...was I my usual self?"

Heero was trying to lean away from the boy, but was impeded by the wall, trapped like a frightened gazelle. "How do you mean?"

"I mean...did I say anything...unusual?" Wufei realised far too late after that meeting that he had been babbling about pouncing on Treize in front of the one person with the wherewithal to stop him from exacting his revenge. Now he wanted to assess the damage.

Heero shrugged. "Not that I recall...but I'll admit, I wasn't paying much attention. Why?"

Wufei stared straight into his eyes to make sure he wasn't lying, then slapped him on the back and smiled. "Never mind." He went back up to the second floor of the pub and vanished, and that was that.

While Heero puzzled over the exchange, the telephone rang down the stairs and around the corner, behind the bar. Catherine was there in a flash to answer it, and by the time Heero made it the rest of the way down the stairs, she was standing with her entire weight shifted to one leg, staring at him tiredly. She had the earpiece pressed to the front of her shoulder and a hand over the receiver, to muffle her words from the caller's ear. Her eyes were throwing tiny daggers in Heero's direction. "I'm not lying for you anymore. You got something to say to him, you tell him yourself."

Heero stared at the telephone and took a deep breath. Duo again. They hadn't stood in the same room since before Heero overheard him talking to Helen. Talking about leaving. Heero kept making excuses for not dropping by. It felt terrible, but he was too scared to do anything else. Never in all his years of training had he ever been threatened with being tossed out into the cold if he failed to perform, so these new fears were doubly excruciating. He dropped his head down a bit and took the earpiece from Catherine as she gratefully marched away, then spoke quietly into the device. "Hello?"

"Where have you been?" Duo sounded more desperate than usual. "Every time I call, you're out somewhere, and it's not that easy to get upstairs to talk to you! Why haven't you come to see me?"

"I've been busy," Heero lied, ".....interviewing." The employment agency hadn't come up with anything yet. He hadn't had a single job interview in spite of the fact that the domestic servant market was still booming.

"Well, get your butt over here," Duo demanded. "There's something very important that we need to discuss, _now_."

_I'll bet there is,_ Heero thought morosely. _'It was nice knowing you' followed by 'I'll send you a postcard now and then.'_ There was no explanation for Heero's lack of faith, except what doubts were embedded into his poor self-image, to which he was blind. "It's not that easy getting over there to talk to _you_ either."

"Oh, come off it. Every time something goes 'bump', the girls all think it's you and they start panicking. Otto's had the police here three times in the last week over nothing, and he's _that_ close to getting written up for wasting an officer's time. Even if you walk right through the front door, they won't bother investigating, seriously! Just come over and talk to me, please?"

Heero stood for a long time, not saying anything. "It might not be until after dark," he managed at last, giving himself ample time to think about what to say when Duo said goodbye.

On the other end, relying on his faithful lookout to give him the high-sign from down the hall in case Bertram Augustus came near, Duo sighed quietly. "I'll take what I can get," he told Heero, and they wrapped up the conversation quickly after that. Duo fled back down the north hall away from the telephone and collected his lookout, Quatre, pulling him downstairs to the kitchen, where they immediately hung a right and hid in the communal bedchamber.

"Is he coming?" Quatre asked after catching his breath.

"Yeah..." Duo picked a bunk at random and slumped down onto it, sighing again. "I wish he'd just _tell_ me what's wrong instead of..." He shook his head. "I dunno what I'm going to say to him now. I don't think I even know why I bother sometimes."

"Yes, you do," Quatre prodded. "Maybe you just need reminding from time to time. We all do."

Swayed momentarily by sweet wisdom, Duo smiled at a vague patch of blank air near the floor. "You're right, as usual...I just get so frustrated when he goes back to acting like a soulless machine, but...that's still part of what makes him so..." Falling back against the bed, he splayed his arms out to either side and gazed at the ceiling. His voice grew continually softer as he reminded himself of his affection, hugging himself tightly. "He's everything I wish I was. He's smart, he's strong, he's not afraid of _anything_...he's pure danger and he's everything I've ever needed. That's why I have to find someplace quiet to talk to him...because...I'm, uh...I'm going to ask him.....if he wants to..."

He really wasn't going to say it out loud, but little did Duo know that he didn't need to. Quatre could feel the sensual tension building up in the other boy's body, and at that point, he officially knew more than he wanted to know. Then he struggled, red-faced, for a way to change the subject, but a shrill woman's yell coming from the kitchen changed it for him. "In the name of _sanity_, what's _this_!?"

Duo sat straight up, then leapt off the bunk and raced into the kitchen, where Merlyn was attempting to frost a butter pecan layer cake with what she thought was vanilla icing. In one hand, she held a fully-charged pastry bag with a shell tip, and a kind of pale goo was oozing out. Some of the goo was on the cake, and it didn't hold it's scalloped shape at all as it flattened out and dripped down the sides of the golden brown slabs. Merlyn had a dollop of the stuff on her free hand, her face contorted in disgust as she sniffed it periodically to confirm her horrific discovery. Duo looked at the scene and paled with a scream caught in his throat.

Quatre couldn't see exactly what was wrong. "What happened?"

Merlyn stopped to sniff the gunk one more time and wheeled on Quatre with gallons of undirected rage. "Some addlepated _twit_ has filled this with _lilac hand cream_!"

Duo shielded his eyes with one hand and tried to sneak out the back on tip-toe.

"You!" Merlyn shouted, twisting around to catch him in the act of escaping. "Did _you_ do this!? Look at that cake now! It's ruined! I can't serve pecan gateau that smells of lilac! Whatever _possessed_ you!?"

Squaring his shoulders, Duo turned around to face her indignantly. If anyone had a right to be angry, after all, it was him. He had carefully searched all the shops for a substance of just the right smoothness and consistency, as per Sally's instructions, gingerly poured it into a disused pastry bag, sifted through a whole box of metal piping tips looking for just the right one that didn't have jagged points for making star shapes and rosettes, and squirrelled the whole package away in his secret drawer, not to be touched again until that glittering, magical moment when he suggested to Heero that it was time they shared their bodies on the highest possible level and Heero said yes. He wasn't sure what would happen after that because he couldn't seem to plan past that one obstacle, but he had a right to leap in without looking, and for that, he needed the treasure that Merlyn had _stolen_ from him. After the disappearance of the big black book, the pastry bag was the only tool he had left. She rearranged his kitchen, usurped his authority, and bored him with endless tales of her own culinary glory on a daily basis, but now she had gone too far. "What possessed _you_ to go snooping around in my private drawer!?"

"So you admit it!?" Merlyn squawked. "My God, man, we have hygienic standards to keep up here!"

"Don't start the lecture until you've answered me! That was in _my_ drawer, on _my_ side of the kitchen, and you had _no_ right to mess with it!!"

Merlyn didn't seem to hear the point Duo was trying to make. She shook her head, making a disapproving cluck of her tongue and stalking right to the dustbin. "I don't know how you expect to get on in the world if you're going to pull stupid stunts like this! If a jar of something breaks, you find another jar to put the contents in, not--" Without warning, she lifted the bin's lid and prepared to dump the pastry bag inside, but Duo flew right across the room in one leap and snatched it out of her hands. In the resultant flash of panic, they both squeezed the bag at the same time, and an enormous stream of lilac hand cream spewed forth, partly in the bin but also partly on Duo, and a great deal on the floor.

There was a shocked silence, during which Merlyn wanted to scream but couldn't because of etiquette constraints. Duo simply inhaled, tensing and straightening up as he composed himself and looked over at Quatre for support. The gardener was staring bug-eyed at the pastry bag, and had been ever since he figured out specifically what it was for. He looked positively paralytic. Finding no help there, Duo looked back at Merlyn just as a blob of cream slid off his arm and onto the floor with a splat. It was an unmistakable signal that to remain there would only bring further dishonour. Duo brushed a slice of hair out of his eyes, coating it with cream in the process, turned on his heel, and walked slowly and smoothly out of the kitchen, heading for the puny cold room where he had made his temporary home. He felt suitably justified in leaving Merlyn with the mess.

Merlyn looked at Quatre. Quatre looked petrified at being left alone with an angry cook. He backed up into the pantry, pretended to look for a snack, and bolted up the stairs the first chance he got.

**********  
  


Sally was the first to admit, years ago, that becoming a doctor would be an uphill battle, but there was just no preparing for days like this. A mother had just brought her young son to her, seeking only a tiny scrap of good news that no other doctor in London would give her, that her child was at all likely to see his next birthday. The boy was afflicted with diabetes mellitus, and was doomed to a diet bordering on starvation until eventually, he wasted away to nothing. Days like this made Sally wish she had stayed at her first job, where the emotional investment was much lower.

She waited until the woman left, holding back tears and towing the child along by the hand, before she shut her front door and gave herself up to tears of her own. They didn't talk much about this at medical school, about what to do when you couldn't do anything. The whole reason she became a physician was to heal the sick, but it looked a lot simpler in the textbooks for some reason. She couldn't save the whole world, so she settled for a pot of herbal tea and no visitors for the rest of the morning so she could save herself.

The tea calmed her down a bit, but she was still a bit puffy-eyed and sniffly when the doorbell rang. Even thought she had _ordered_ herself to avoid all human contact until she had put her professional face back on, she ended up rising to answer it anyway, pausing to sniff once at the mirror next to the door of her townhouse and put a few strands of hair back into her curly up-do before twisting the knob.

Heero was on the front step, facing away from the door and gazing at some point across the busy street. He turned around soon after the door opened and looked Sally in her slightly reddened face, instantly wondering if something was wrong. He swiftly queried his mental catalogue of things to say to women for all occasions, but found nothing he could feel comfortable with saying to his only maternal role model. "I can come back later."

"No!" Sally commanded. "C'mon...you came all this way, it must be something important." She stepped back from the door, and thought momentarily that she would have to drag him in by the scruff of the neck, but he gradually ducked his head and squirmed his way inside. Sally noted two new things about him; one was his change in style, characterized by a tan suit instead of his usual black, and the other was the strange quiet that had fallen over him. "Is this visit business or personal?" she asked, closing the door.

Heero half-turned around in the rosewood foyer, sparsely decorated with china cat ornaments, and could only barely look her in the eye as he shrugged, a bit hunched over. "Whatever," he said in an unusually light tone.

Sally folded her arms over her plain white blouse and squinted. 'Nervous' didn't look good on him at all. She beckoned and led him to the back room where her tiny office and examination room sat in a peaceful corner of the townhouse. Heero helped himself to the first chair he saw and slumped forward on his elbows immediately, while Sally perched on the corner of her desk, observing carefully. The boy sat and stared so long that Sally had plenty of time to finish collecting herself from the earlier ordeal. Here was a chance to redeem herself. "So, what's wrong?"

".....I don't know, exactly. Duo...." His hands twitched, one in the other. "He wants something from me."

If Duo had wanted money, time, or anything else that could be measured in analytical units, he would have said so, which gave Sally a pretty good idea of what the problem was. She held back a smirk. "I've been expecting this conversation for some time. Actually, I'm surprised it took you this long to come tell me about it."

Heero looked up quickly. "...about what?"

Sally smiled at the cagey, prideful way he kept his worries to himself, though showing up at her door at all said much more. "Duo came to me for advice awhile back...advice about some very..._personal_ subject matter." She actually saw Heero's cheeks tint themselves rose as he glanced away. Only then was it clear that they both had the same thing in mind. "I listened to his questions, gave him my best medical opinion, and...that was all, for awhile. I figured you'd be along eventually." Memories flooded back to her of Duo's two separate visits, and especially of the second, when he brought the big black book along as a visual aid. It had been an interesting afternoon of sex education, to say the least. "That _is_ what's bothering you, right?"

Again Heero was fiddling with his hands, looking down at them to study every scratch and crease. "Not as much as..." Every few seconds, he tried to look up at her, but couldn't. It was impeding his progress so much that Sally had to shift him to the red plush chaise longue facing away from her so he could concentrate. She stood behind him, forced him to lie back, and even kneaded his shoulder blades a little to loosen him up.

"Start at the beginning," she nudged quietly.

Amid several little noises of frustration, Heero massaged his right temple where a headache was developing, and began the story. "He's been...regrouping with an old friend," he said, "the one you've been sending packages to."

Sally's eyes lit up. "Helen O'Daly! She stopped by here the other day for a checkup, and I took her off the medication. Nice lady."

"You'd think so..."

"...that doesn't sound encouraging. What do you know that I don't?"

Heero didn't like to put such a negative spin on Helen's good nature, because she still seemed to be a very caring individual. "There's nothing _wrong_ with her, it's just.....she wants to take Duo away to Ireland, permanently...and I think he might go."

"He 'might' go?" Sally swiftly put that together with the shaky-voiced visits and the big black book, and crouched behind the lounger so that she was just looking over Heero's left shoulder, keeping a comforting, motherly hand on it. "And you're worried that if he doesn't get what he wants out of you--"

"He never said that!" Heero snapped, almost angrily defending his friend's character.

"Yes, but that's how it feels anyway, isn't it? Whether he comes out and says it or not, it still feels like a gun to your head...and once you've had that feeling, you can't seem to do anything without worrying about whether or not what you do will make him leave."

There was an uncharacteristic tremor in her voice, just a small, soft wavering, and though he couldn't see it, he could almost hear her eyes glazing over. "One would almost think you'd been through this yourself," he gambled.

Sally smirked again, and slapped his shoulder as she stood up beside him. "What, d'you think I hatched out of an _egg_ this way? A worldly know-it-all who never makes mistakes? I've _had_ my share of relationship blunders, for your big fat information."

The disarming way she could lay things out on the verbal table couldn't help but make Heero smile just a tiny bit, and his overall tension level dropped slightly. "And what words of wisdom can you offer, thanks to these blunders?"

Sally paced and thought before pulling a chair up to the chaise so he could make eye contact as she sat, leaning forward with her hands folded on her knees. "I know Duo wouldn't really smack you with an ultimatum like that, and I think you know it too, but that's not really the issue. If the _only_ reason you'd do something would be to make someone else happy...then don't do it. If you're giving up too much of yourself to avoid abandonment, it's not worth it, and it never will be." Then she leaned back a bit, flicking her eyebrows upward. "Then again...if there _are_, indeed, _other_ reasons..." The question hung in the air, laden down with innuendo and yet wafting effortlessly between them.

_Other reasons..._ Heero slowly sat up, swung his feet back down to the floor, and faced Sally again, hunched over with thought. "When I look at him...I wonder if that's how I might have turned out if I'd been left with my family, whoever they were. He was the first person I was ever really close to after my trainers cut me loose, and he always seems so...naturally happy. In spite of all the ways he sets himself apart from the world...I've come to think of him as...'normal.' Duo represents everything I'm missing in myself.....everything I should've had from the beginning."

_What a concise, calculated, boring way of putting it,_ Sally thought. She leaned forward eagerly with a catlike smile. "That, and...?"

For all of Heero's pretense at innocence, he saw the smile, and understood. Maybe he didn't quite know how to say it yet, but there was an element of love in the equation, hiding behind the psycho-babble. He smiled back a tiny bit, but turned his head away, blushing again. "That...and," he added in a whisper.

Impressed, Sally reached out and patted him on the knee. "When the time comes, you'll know what to do," she advised. "Just remember...Duo thinks the _world_ of you, and a rejection at this point would be devastating."

Heero didn't point out that Duo wasn't the one who had cause to worry about rejection, and that 'when the time comes' should have been 'if.' He never fully opened up on the subject, but Sally was still able to lend him some courage, enough to look Duo in the eye and find out where he stood. All he had to do was get through to him before Helen led him away by the hand like a naughty child.

**********  
  


Arthur had taken the horses out for a bit of exercise, and that left the miniature barn way at the back of the back yard blissfully empty. Trowa vanished from sight at that point. Nobody could find him, though hardly anyone tried. He was often the least in-demand of all the staff, and recently, that lack of status had allowed him to pursue...other interests.

He flopped onto his back in a bed of soft straw, gasping for air as he slowly inched down from a dizzying physical high. A thin layer of sweat glazed his forehead and throat, and his heart stopped racing over a span of two minutes. Lying there, basking in the afterglow, he swam through a mist-covered lake of secret, giddy guilt, the kind one enjoys after doing something just wicked enough to want to avoid getting caught. Up in the hayloft, he could indulge his most private passions without fear.

"...'lo...Trowa! Are you in here?"

Trowa's eyes snapped open in panic. At no time in human history had any man sat up, brushed bits of hay off himself, wiped miscellaneous moisture from his hands onto the bottom hem of his turtleneck, tucked it back into his trousers, buttoned his trousers back up and hid a particular object in the hay as blindingly fast as he did when he heard Quatre's voice at that moment. He finished re-arranging himself and leaned casually back against the wood slat wall with his hands clamped under his arms just as the gardener climbed a few steps up the ladder and poked his feathery blond head into the loft. "Here you are! Is this where you've been all morning?"

Trowa thought so hard about not swallowing nervously that he swallowed nervously without even knowing it. "Sure, I guess."

Not feeling as though he needed an invitation, Quatre climbed the rest of the way up the ladder and into the hayloft, sitting next to Trowa and leaning against the wooden boards in roughly the same way. Trowa mentally calculated the position of the article he had hidden in the straw, and it was smack-dab between them. He swallowed again.

"I hope you won't think I'm meddling," Quatre said without preamble, "but I'm worried about Duo. It was only natural that he took it hard when Heero left, but I think he's been getting worse lately."

Duo was the farthest thing from Trowa's mind that morning. He shook his head like he'd just gotten off a very tall ferris wheel spinning at high speed. "_What_?"

"He's missing someone very important to him and it really hurts!" the gardener explained. "I just think we should do whatever we can to help him, since he's done so much for us."

"Um...alright..." Trowa still wasn't sure what all this was leading up to. "What did you have in mind, exactly?"

Obviously, Quatre wasn't going to go into tremendous detail about what Duo and Heero might have gotten up to later that day, which would have constituted a breach of a friend's confidence, so he improvised. "Well...all I'm saying is, if they need some time alone to...y'know...talk...then it's up to us to, um...distract the establishment."

Trowa stared blankly. "Distract the people most likely to fire me for insubordination, you mean."

"...essentially."

"...."

"Okay, maybe not," Quatre chuckled as he propped himself up in preparation to clamber back down the ladder. "It was just a thought, really. Anyway, I've got plants to water, and..." His voice trailed off as he looked down at one of his hands. It had hit something hard just underneath a thick layer of hay. While Trowa squirmed and screamed in silence next to him, he shuffled through the hay and extracted a fairly bulky object, a large black book. "What's this?" the blond boy asked innocently.

Trowa panicked and made a sort of 'blgzt' noise as Quatre opened the book somewhere in the middle. Quatre's eyes bulged, and Trowa wanted to run down the ladder, grab a crosscut saw, run back up the ladder, cut a window out of the hayloft wall, and fling himself out of it. He was staring at those evil pages, full of evil photos of evil people doing very, very evil things to other people, who enjoyed it quite a lot. He would soon want to know what Trowa was doing all alone in the hayloft of an empty barn with a behemoth volume of lewd 'reading material,' and Trowa knew well in advance that he wouldn't have a suitable answer. He was trapped like a bilge rat.

Quatre continued to study the pages of the dirty book with growing disgust, turning over the yellowing leaves as fast as he could absorb their content. "This is...this is _shameful_..."

Trowa ran both hands through his hair, flattening his bangs against the top of his head in a kind of death grip as he curled up into a ball to shield himself from Quatre's judgement. "I know..."

"It's indescribably _awful_..."

"I _know_!"

"...it's the most _reprehensible_ thing I've ever seen in my _life_!!" While Quatre got madder and madder, Trowa couldn't see the disapproving face he was making, as he had his own cherry red face pressed hard into his knees. Quatre shook his head once. "Why, _I_ could take better pictures than _this_!"

Trowa's head popped up, and his bangs flopped down. "...'scuse me?"

"Well, just _look_ at that!" Quatre barked, slapping a depiction of the last days of Sodom and Gomorrah with the back of his hand. "The lighting's all wrong, it's underexposed, and there's a motion blur right by this person's arm, see? The photographer should have caught that and made them do it again! And look at this one over here...see, he should be looking _into_ the camera, and _she_ needs some pressed powder to cover up that shiny nose. It's terrible, just terrible..."

For a moment, Trowa wondered if something deep inside Quatre's brain was translating the images from naked cavorters to happy little children picking wildflowers. It was either that, or he was toying with the boy before delivering the lecture to end all lectures. "...you're kidding, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"Seriously, you don't really look at _that_ and see nothing but the flaws in the photography, do you!?"

Quatre looked up at Trowa and turned another clump of pages before looking back down. Certainly, he saw lots of things, including the image of a muscular lad, who was not unlike Trowa, leaning heavily over a slender, fair-haired youth not unlike himself, all together on a velvet couch, and the mental picture of the pastry bag full of lilac hand cream kept insinuating itself into the scene without warning. Slowly, he put the opened book down between them, face up at that page, and folded his hands in his lap, trying to disguise a faint smile with thoughtfulness. "Photography is an art form, and I like to see it done right, that's all." That wasn't all, however, and he couldn't stop his own face from showing it. He shrugged. "Maybe I should have knocked before barging up here while you had your..."

Their eyes met. Trowa wondered if Quatre could, in any way, use his abilities to tell what he was doing earlier.

"...hands full."

_Yep, he knows._ Trowa was just about ready to fall through the floor and die. His face was so hot, he thought his eyeballs would evaporate any second. "Maybe I should get rid of this," he mumbled, reaching for the book.

"No, leave it," Quatre said softly, stopping the other boy's hands and covering the book with a layer of straw. There was something both funny and strange about his smile as he did so, a knowing grin that refused to pass judgement for fear of being excluded from all fun in the future. "I've got plants to water," the gardener said pleasantly but firmly, and with a final grin, he levered himself onto the ladder, climbed down, and left the barn, carrying his friend's most illicit secret with him.

Trowa waited for twenty heartbeats or more before moving, and then it was only to brush away the hay covering the book. He stared at the open page and saw shadows of himself and Quatre in the dimly-lit scene. The young man who most closely resembled Trowa was quite muscular indeed, and it actually made him squeeze one of his own biceps in envy, and then pout as he judged himself to be substandard.

_I don't know, though,_ a vain piece of his psyche prodded from within. _You've got potential...put a little work into yourself and that could be you._

Trowa dog-eared the page before burying it in the hay again, but kept thinking about it for a long time after he left the barn.

**********  
  


Relena didn't need the aggravation that she was getting lately, having to drop what she was doing to follow up on some offhand rumour that drove her mad to the point where she could no longer concentrate, but life was like that sometimes. She was sorting out the latest problem from the small lounge in Sutherby House that had the telephone in it, grumbling into the receiver as she paced with the phone in both hands. "I hope you can explain to me why I had to hear about this from Mrs. Burkitt who runs the annual Strawberry Social," she barked across the line. "It was humiliating!"

At the other end, Otto held the earpiece at arm's length during the times of intense squawking, and the tinny noise of Relena's complaint flooded the north hall of Bridlewood. "I'm sorry, but I just didn't see the good in pestering you until we had concrete evidence," he said.

"Nonsense. If there was a prowler in the yard, I should have been the _first_ one informed of it. Has he actually broken in? Or did he just frighten the staff? Do the police have any leads?"

Otto paused. His theory about the phantom prowler who had yet to be caught or even identified was a frightening one, but Relena insisted on knowing every detail. "The police haven't spotted him."

"Well, do something about him yourself then," she demanded. "Leave lights on in every room, set bear traps around the house if you have to, but I want rid of him as soon as possible! We simply _cannot_ afford to be burgled right now!"

"...we may want to be careful in how we deal with this man," Otto said after another long pause.

Relena stopped pacing and blinked. "And why is that?"

"Because I don't think we're faced with an ordinary prowler," Otto explained. "We can't know for certain...but I think it's..."

When Relena heard the suspected name of the prowler, she paled, and a thousand conflicting feelings crashed into each other in her mind. She stared out the window, barely moving. "...are you sure?"

"Based on the housemaids' descriptions of him...quite sure. It could be he's still bitter over being sacked, or he could have some other motive...either way, we ought to tread carefully. The first step is to convince the detectives that he's trying to harass us, and once they find out where he hides during the daytime--"

"No," Relena refused.

"...Miss?"

She took a deep breath and let it out with her eyes closed. Somewhere along the line, it turned into her private battle, and it was imperative that she fight it her way. "Don't involve the police. I want to deal with him myself."

"That would be _highly_ unadvisable under the circumstances!"

"I don't care. I'm coming straight over, and I'm not leaving until I've had a word with him. If he's really skulking around the house, he'll talk to me. Trust me." That was the last of Relena's tense exchange with Otto. Without his unneeded approval, she slipped out and boarded the next train to London, making up an excuse to her brother. She was going to settle things with Heero once and for all.

**********  
  


Duo might have had mixed feelings about Helen's motives, but that didn't stop them from having an enjoyable few days together. Otto agreed to offer her one of the guest suites for her stay, and Merlyn was only too pleased to take over the bulk of the kitchen duties while Duo took his guest sight-seeing. Together they strolled up and down the same streets they used to visit, and with Helen's guidance, they even found the very same store window the young woman had been gazing into when a scruffy little boy with long, braided hair crept up and stole a shiny red apple from her shopping basket. It was an emotional moment for both of them.

Helen agreed to give Duo as much time as he needed to decide about going back to Ireland with her. She understood the magnitude of the decision, but also tried to subtly sway his opinion with remembrances of their happy days together running the flower shop and taking picnic lunches down to the riverbank. Most of their time was spent talking about the old days while, in the background, they visited all the famous tourist spots together.

As the afternoon wore on, they found themselves at a little flagstone church with a name that went something like 'Our Lady of the Covenant.' At Helen's urging, they went inside, and found a peaceful atmosphere to contrast with the bustling city sights they had been exposed to all day. Dimly lit by glowing candles at the front, row upon row of shining maple woodwork invited them forward, past a scattered handful of others who had come to wait their turn for confession. As a matter of honoured routine, they both lit a candle and offered with it a silent prayer. They always lit candles for the same person; Duo for the birth mother he had never known, and Helen for someone dear to her that she let down in a terrible way. Neither one knew the name of the person they sought in prayer, only that they existed, and neither one ever really talked about who they were and why they were so important. It was just implied. After extinguishing their tapers, the pair stepped quietly back down the carpeted centre aisle, Duo first, and they both made a brief genuflection before the symbol of the cross before ducking down one of the highly polished pews and taking a seat.

Once or twice they glanced at each other, first with an air of panic and then with embarrassed smiles, as if they were both trying to open a can of conversation but too scared to cut their hands on the razor-sharp lid. After awhile, Helen tried to poke a relatively safe, small hole through the imaginary tin, clearing her throat and nudging Duo with a well-intentioned elbow. "...it's nice here, isn't it?"

"Mm-hm," Duo hummed, smiling and nodding.

"D'you ever miss that little whitewashed church with the rose bushes all down the front path?"

"...yeah. Yeah, I do, sometimes," said Duo. "And the way that gargoyle of a curate used to check the pockets of everyone under thirteen in case we tried to smuggle pea shooters and catapults into the service..."

They laughed together. "He never caught _you_ with anything, I made sure of that," Helen affirmed, poking him in the knee.

"Yeah, by not letting me have any fun!" Duo chuckled back.

"Well, I had to protect my wee treasure, didn't I? If I'da left you to the mercy of them _other_ filthy little ragamuffins, you'd've come home with all sorts of wicked ideas..." It was the best possible segue into the topic at hand, so she took it. "You _do_ know that...that I did ev'rythin' I thought best for _your_ sake...and I know that you're a good person with a good heart, and if you've picked up a few bad ideas from the wrong crowd...I know it's really _my_ fault because I was too ill to take care of you properly."

Duo was frowning two words after the tone of the dialogue changed, and looked away gruffly. "Helen, _don't_..."

"I think your friend is very nice," she said quickly, trying to recover. "A bit odd, maybe, but _nice_. I just want to know....._how_ did he convince you to be his--"

"I can't talk about this here," Duo snapped, angrily but quietly, and as he spoke he leapt up off the pew.

"Please, don't!" Helen whispered, leaping up also. She lightly touched a hand to his arm through the sleeve of his threadbare brown tweed suit, still experiencing a sort of time shock at how fast her darling was growing up. "The last thing I wanted was to upset you."

"I'm _not_ upset, I just..." He avoided her eyes fiercely, certainly not wanting to upset her either. This had been coming for some time, and neither one had wanted to ruin the lovely holiday, but Duo had always known it couldn't last. "I can't do this," he muttered. "Not here.....not in a church."

With that, he scooted down the length of the pew towards the outside aisle, turned, and fled the building. Helen went after him, pausing at one point to gaze after his retreating form, but once outside she easily caught up with him. He was pacing along one of the front steps that led down to the square, hands in his pockets and eyes on his shoes as he traced the foot-wide stretch of concrete. When she got close enough to speak to him, he surprised her by launching the first assault on neutral ground, stopping to stare into her sea blue eyes. "I _told_ you once before that none of this was Heero's idea," he growled with stern courage. "It's not _his_ fault, it's not _your_ fault, it's not _anybody's_ fault because it _just happened_."

"Duo, nothing 'just happens'!" Helen cried. "The Good Lord gave us free will for a _reason_!"

He just couldn't believe she was throwing that in his face again. With a slow, single shake of his head, he transfixed her with an earnest gaze from only two feet away. "Haven't you ever been in love?"

A peculiar, visible pain welled up in Helen's eyes, and all at once she turned away, making Duo think he'd touched a nerve, and also making him wish he hadn't. He became frightened that he might have hurt her, and began reaching out a hand to her shoulder, but before it got there, she finally spoke. "I made a mistake," she said in a trembling voice. Confused, Duo stood there and waited for more.

"I knew what kind of life I wanted when I was younger than you are now. Ev'rythin' was laid out before me, plain as porridge. I never had any doubts, and I never feared bein' alone, or sick, or poor.....and then I threw it all away because I made a mistake!"

Still uncertain, Duo gently took her by the arm and turned her around. Two shimmering ribbons of tears painted her cheeks, and she was unable to hold them back as she continued her story. "I gave me heart away when I was too young an' too foolish to know any better, and it changed ev'rythin'! I don't want you makin' the same mistake! You've _got_ to come away with me, _please_!"

Now, Duo understood a little better. Never in all their seasons together had she ever mentioned a misguided love affair or the damage it did to her life, but it clearly happened. Silently, he hugged her as a simple reassurance that he recognized the loving concern she harboured alongside the effort to break up his own relationship. When he drew back from her, though, no amount of sympathy for her past injuries could dissuade him from walking the same path, if it was indeed the same. Long before he spoke, she could see his answer in his eyes. "I can't."

"...but you _must_..."

Smiling, Duo shook his head. "I don't know what you went through, but what I've got isn't some throw-away deal where you only stay when everything's rosy and then take off at the first sign of trouble. He's not like that, and neither am I. What we have is _real_, and whether it's right or wrong isn't up to me. We need each other...and I can't let him go just like that. I'm sorry."

Somehow, seeing him so confident and sure in his bizarre love enabled Helen to dry her tears. "I'm not going to convince you, am I?" she asked.

"Not this time," he answered, clasping both her hands and stepping close to lean his forehead against hers. It was the first time he was tall enough to do so. "Are you angry?"

"Oh..." Helen reached up and stroked his cheek in a motherly way, smiling sadly. "I could never be so angry that I'd stop loving you, not for a minute. I'll still worry about you...and I've not given up on turnin' you away from this mad quest of yours...but if it all goes wrong, I want you on my doorstep, first thing, you hear me?" It seemed as thought she'd had his final word, and by rule, it was almost time to go. "Don't be so long in comin' to visit me either. I at _least_ want to see you for Christmas."

Almost surprised at how easily she backed down, Duo reached around and gave her another long squeeze. "I'll even bring my own fruitcake," he promised. "...and, um...I won't...bring _him_ along, not if you don't want to be reminded..."

Helen sighed into his shoulder and stroked his hair. "Like I said...the Good Lord gave us free will for a reason. I can _ask_ you to live a certain way, but I know I can't _tell_ you. Bring 'im if you want, or leave 'im if you want. Just come home safe."

Duo couldn't argue with that. The subject was closed for a little while, with the understanding that either of them could open it up again in the future, but now it was time to pack up Helen's things and send her on her way. It would still go down in the books as a perfectly lovely visit.

**********  
  


Getting into London was an unforeseen nightmare. Relena had to cope with a ticket takers' go-slow at one train station and a lost luggage fiasco at the other. One little old lady clogged up the platform with policemen for thirty-five minutes on the suspicion that one of the porters had pinched the bag with her jewellery case in it. The bag was found unpilfered on another platform, but it still added to the delays that stood between Relena and her rightful argument. It was dusk before she got to Bridlewood, and if not for her steely determination to confront the so-called prowler, she might have turned back.

When she arrived, a horse-drawn cab was just leaving. She couldn't tell whether there was anyone inside, but it had definitely been parked in front of her house. She made a mental note to ask about it later, but there were more urgent matters. As she stepped out of her own hired vehicle, the front door magically opened as the new butler she had never met anticipated her arrival with clockwork accuracy. He greeted the lady of the house and took her shoulder wrap of French lace, after which she got straight to the point. "Assemble the staff in the front hall, please," she said, fluffing up her hair in a business-like manner as soon as her arms were free.

"My apologies, Miss," said Bertram Augustus. "Had I know this was to be a formal visit, I would have gathered them earlier."

"It isn't, I just want them where I can see them." She continued a few steps north and called out, "Otto!"

Just as Bertram Augustus vanished to carry out his orders, Otto appeared from the depths of the house, still unconvinced that Relena was doing the right thing. "I can't talk you out of this, can I?"

"Absolutely not. He obviously wanted my attention, so, now he's got it." She was all business as the first few servants were herded into the foyer, and it wasn't long before she took charge completely, lining them up in her preferred order while Otto stood by and worried in his own way.

At the back of the house, oblivious to the round-up, Duo was looking out Quatre's window in desperate contemplation. If Heero came through for him by actually showing up, he still wasn't sure where to meet him. Even though he made light of the dangers of actually entering the house, he knew they were real, and if he put Heero in a position that got him arrested for trespassing, he'd never forgive himself. At the same time, Duo would be in plenty of trouble if he vanished from the property, under the new rules. There _had_ to be some other place they could go, some reconciliation between being alone and being safe.

Then, as he watched the sky over the back yard turn from light summer violet to a deeper periwinkle, his eyes landed on a potential solution: the hedge maze. His face lit up. Nobody ever went in there. It might just give them enough cover to have a serious discussion uninterrupted. Dashing out of Quatre's room, he blasted around the corner to the dinky cold storage, gathered up his fluffy plaid blanket and what was left of the lilac pastry bag, and flew out the back door the second he saw that the kitchen was empty. He threw repeated glances of panic over his shoulder at all the windows in the west wall of the mansion, but saw no one observing as he scampered across the thirty or so yards between the house and the hedge maze.

As luck would have it, Heero was studying the front facade of the house from across the street at that very moment, and the first thing he noticed was the cab waiting at the end of the front walk. _Could I be too late? It must be waiting for Duo and Helen...who else could it be for?_ The boy couldn't have yet known that Helen left in a separate vehicle several minutes earlier, and it was more the pity.

He made his way along the north wall to the back of the house, stopping to peek in the window of the cold storage, just in case Duo was there, but he wasn't. Then he crept around to the kitchen, ducking underneath the other windows as he went. He couldn't see anybody, which was most peculiar. While he crouched in front of the window by the washbasin, he wondered for a moment if he could locate Arthur anywhere on the grounds, just to prove that somebody was still about, for the house looked deserted. He twisted around for a look at the spacious lawns by the diminishing daylight, turned back to the window, and found himself looking directly into the eyes of horse-faced Grace.

Heero yelped and fell backwards, startled by the stringy-haired blonde's sudden appearance. Knowing that she would surely sound the alarm, he scrambled away from the window in a frenzy to escape. Grace, who was still staring out the window over her gigantic nose, needed a little extra time to process the information. She looked to either side for a minute or two, thinking as hard as she could until she gradually decided that she had just seen the prowler. Then she screamed.

It was a pathetic, airy little scream with no 'oomph' to it whatsoever, but it was loud enough for Duo to hear from the hedge maze, since the kitchen window was slightly ajar. He navigated the twisted puzzle until he reached the entrance, and could see the house. Heero was flattened against the wall, wondering which way to run. Duo put his hand to his mouth and gave a shrill whistle, which showed Heero a target to run to, and run he did. There was no Grace at the window as he sprinted into the hedge maze. For the moment, he was in the clear.

Heero allowed himself to be led deep into the leafy labyrinth, to a spot far into the north-west corner, where they looked at each other and laughed. Once that reaction slowed down, it became real to them that it was the first time they had seen each other in more than ten days. Duo was the first to break the long silence. "Howdy, stranger," he joked sadly. "...I wasn't sure if you'd show up."

Even in the rapidly fading light, it was easy to see that Heero was badly troubled, though anyone other than Duo might never have known the difference. "We need to talk."

"Yeah," Duo agreed nervously. "I guess we do." And so the dialogue began.

Back in the front hall of the house, Grace had finished retelling her account of what she saw out the kitchen window, while Pearl patted her hand to steady her. Otto was more sure than ever that the police should be summoned, but again, Relena disallowed it. Then, while the two of them were still standing off at a distance where they could make a plan of action without the staff hearing, she looked over the line and noticed something was missing. "Where's our illustrious chef?" she whispered to Otto, more or less knowing what the answer would be.

Otto noticed the absence too, for the first time. "His behaviour has degraded severely the past few days," he offered as an explanation. "He could be anywhere."

Many possibilities floated through Relena's mind, but if Heero was around and Duo was missing at the same time, the first vision that popped into her head was the one she least wanted to see. There was the theory that Heero was never holding the manor hostage to fear at all, that he was just sneaking in to see an 'old chum', though she knew that river ran much deeper than they let on. "I'm going outside," she announced suddenly. "Send everyone to their rooms and tell them to lock their doors. I don't want any interference."

"Relena, I am _warning_ you, _don't do this_," Otto whispered harshly, taking a risk both by addressing her informally and by shaking an angry finger in her face. "Let's just leave it for now and get your brother up here in the morning."

"No! I want Heero gone, but I don't want him _dead_!" she replied. "And that's just what could happen if we're not careful. My brother's temper has no place in this...and, I'm sorry...but neither do you." She stalked away down one of the side halls, preparing to strike out into the unknown of the back lawns.

Otto grunted in frustration at having his hands tied, and took it out on the staff, lumbering up to them with flames in his eyes. "Everyone to your rooms, and stay there!" he bellowed before stalking off somewhere else. The servants were more than a little shocked and worried, but Trowa, Quatre and Hilde shared glances of fearful understanding. As the group was shuffled into the nearest servants' staircase by the butler, the trio took the first opportunity to slip away once his back was turned and have a quick conference.

"They're both out there somewhere, aren't they?" Hilde whispered.

"I'd bet money on it," said Quatre, mindful of which words to use. Out of the three of them, Trowa was the only one who didn't really know the depth of Duo and Heero's relationship, but Hilde still thought she was the only one with privy knowledge, and it was a struggle for the gardener to keep it all straight in his mind about who knew what. "We really shouldn't let Relena go out there and disturb them while they're trying to talk. Who's with me?"

"Quat, I know you want to fix everyone's lives for them," Trowa suggested, "but they're big kids now. They don't need our help."

"Well, I happen to think they do!" Quatre countered. "Someone has to stop that girl from interrupting them, and do it fast, because we don't have that many acres here, and it won't take her long to search them all."

Hilde was dubious. "At night? In the dark? I bet if she sees her own shadow, she'll run a mile. I'm with Trowa, leave them alone and they can deal with Little Lena themselves."

Trowa raised an eyebrow at Quatre, and it only made him more frustrated. "Fine, I'll do it myself." Before the other two could lodge a protest or even grab his arm, the sprightly boy was out of their reach and headed for the patio doors on the main floor. Unable to see the urgency, they opted to retreat to their respective rooms and wait, for they were sure he would be back inside within a matter of minutes, and ready to see things their way.

**********  
  


Duo was attempting to absorb what he had just been told. It took some arm-twisting, but he finally got Heero to admit why he was being so distant. "Say that again, slower, so I can make sure I heard it right."

Already worried that he had irreparably insulted his friend, even though he firmly believed he was right, Heero swapped gazes between Duo and the grass. They could only just see each other, but a sliver of moon was out, and it was as dark as it was going to get for the rest of the night. Heero perceived it as being much darker, on some level. "I heard the two of you talking," he repeated. "I heard her say she wanted you back in Ireland."

"And...from this, you gathered that I was leaving forever and wasn't even going to say goodbye? Why would I do something like that?"

"Why wouldn't you? You knew her long before you ever met me, and it _must_ be better for your health to get out of the city, and..." His reasoning was getting a frosty reception, from the look on Duo's face, so he stopped speaking.

As it had always been, Duo had a knack for spotting aspects of people that they couldn't see themselves, and he walked up close to Heero, giving him a sad stare. "You really don't think much of yourself, do you?"

Heero had imagined that he would be accused of not trusting Duo, so this was a small shock. "What does this have to do with me?"

"Only everything," Duo said with a shake of his head. "I used to think you were this unshakeable rock of self-confidence, but I'm starting to see cracks in the foundation. What in God's name convinced you that you're not enough to keep me here? What made you lose faith so fast?"

It was a slower process than it seemed. The views of the world had been chipping away at Heero's sense of security for weeks. Even setting aside what society would think of them, which was far down on the scale of importance, he knew what happened to people who started out as friends, became lovers, failed at being lovers and could no longer be friends. If it was anything like it's portrayal in books, he wasn't sure if he could handle it if it happened to them. He felt much worse equipped to deal with the sudden loss of his soul mate, and at the same time had little doubt that Duo would soon find another, being so happy and likable and alive. He knew all of this, but didn't know how to voice it, and merely gazed up at his friend with worrisome eyes. "Duo, what if...what if this just...doesn't work for us?"

Duo seemed to understand the intricacies of his doubt immediately, almost as if he had suffered through them as well, but was strong enough to set them aside for the rubbish they truly were. "Now, you listen to me...and I expect you to be able to repeat this verbatim ten years from now, right to my face. I don't care what happens between us, or how often or how seldom or anything. We've been friends this long without it, so we must have been doing _something_ right all this time." He stood toe-to-toe with Heero, placed his hands on either side of his face, and forced him to make long, steady eye contact, through which no lie or deception could travel safely. "I, will, never, leave you. Do you _get_ that?"

The words washed over Heero from the top down, and waves of sudden relaxation made him shift downwards with his whole form. He had been a fool. It wasn't Duo who was jeopardizing their friendship with deceit, it was him, and once he saw it, he also knew how to make it right. "That's what I needed to hear," he said as he grasped Duo's hands and lowered them. Duo looked at him with delighted anticipation, and a second later, Heero dove forward and planted a firm kiss on his lips. The chef let out a happy little moan and smiled into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Heero's neck. Their embrace eventually calmed down into an extended stare, and they seemed to be speaking to each other with only their eyes.

Hoping they both had the same idea, Duo slid a hand down Heero's chest and stepped back a bit, then turned to lean down and pick up the fluffy plaid blanket, which he shook out and laid down on the grass. Their shoes came off, and soon they were lounging side by side, glancing between each other and the stars in the sky. Duo took a deep, shaky breath which he enjoyed for its nervous energy, shrugged his shoulders up and down slowly, and looked at Heero with a sweet hopefulness. "I don't think they're coming to get us, do you?"

Indeed, if the police were coming, they probably would have been there by now, Heero thought. "Not really, no." The admission set them free, and he pulled Duo by the back of his neck into another kiss, a slower, deeper one than the first. Duo poured more of his energy into it, and they sat up on their knees, still entangling their lips as their hands dared to roam freely about their new playgrounds. Duo began toying with the buttons of Heero's waistcoat, and when one of them 'accidentally' opened, he laughed. Heero pulled back and smirked at the challenge, tired of playing the innocent. He had Duo's white tunic off within seconds, deciding to show him what he had _really_ learned at seduction school.

Duo was soon pressed flat on his back into the blanket, bare from the waist up. It was a warm night, warm enough to be wearing much less without suffering the consequences. Still in possession of all his own clothes, Heero crawled up beside Duo, bent down at the waist, and inhaled deeply from the spot where Duo's shoulder met his neck, then kissed the spot, running his hands up and down Duo's unprotected arms while he hummed happily. Then, holding the boy's shoulders down to the ground, Heero kissed a trail across his neck, down the centre line of his chest, and veered to the right. Duo suddenly gasped and moaned, arching his back as Heero's tongue hit a sensitive spot. It was quite nice, he thought, but he never once saw it in the big black book, which he had pored over intensely before losing it. He wondered if perhaps the nicest things weren't in the book at all, meaning that the two of them could touch and explore each other in any way they wanted, and it was all good.

He grasped the collar of Heero's jacket on either side of his neck so that when he crawled back up to kiss him on the lips again, he slipped himself almost right out of it. The jacket was flung aside to land next to Duo's tunic, and the matching waistcoat soon followed. The beautiful sounds Duo was making brushed against Heero's ears like butterfly wings, and the resulting impulse made him slip a hand underneath him, looking for the end of his braid so he could unravel it. Pretending to make it easier for him, Duo sat up quickly and used the element of surprise to roll Heero onto his back, and sit on him, laughing. Heero pretended to struggle against the assault, laughing as well, but Duo quickly grabbed both his wrists and tied them together with his own hair. Chuckling at his helpless prisoner, he ran a hand slowly up Heero's chest, working each of the buttons open in turn, and then slid both hands up and down the exposed flesh in a warm, frontal massage, feeling every ridge and bulge of lean muscle along the way. The loose knot of hair soon fell apart, but Heero made no move to free himself, letting his hands drop away at his sides as he enjoyed the soothing attention with his eyes closed.

A light, gentle rain began to fall, but the warm air remained. Duo untucked the rest of Heero's shirt from his waistband, feeling electric pulsations at the point of their close contact as he moved this way and that. He was straddling his tiger just above the knees, and felt the front of his trousers beginning to tighten around him as Heero actually reached up and put both hands on his thighs. It gave him an idea.

He pulled the hair tie from the end of his braid and unravelled his wavy brown locks, just for effect, knowing that it was exactly what Heero was most curious to see. Then he unbuttoned Heero's trousers instead of his own, stroking the area with his other hand as he watched his tiger tensing up all over. In a voice that was neither concerned nor accusatory, but whimsically curious, Heero asked, "What are you doing?"

Duo smiled down at his hands as he worked. "Something I don't need a book for." As he pried away a layer of camel-coloured cloth, Heero felt a small rush of relatively cold air, and then the surrounding warmth of an adoring hand as Duo reached inside and grasped a handful of soft flesh. He shuddered, but did not object. Duo treated him with immense care, squeezing and massaging gently until the handful swelled and stiffened. Heero began taking deep gulps of air as his mouse was able to coax the most inconceivably magnificent sensations out of his body, and at the point where he should have heard the voices of his instructors in his head, demanding that he turn back from the luxurious plateau, he heard only his own tiny groans, and some of Duo's as well. The talented, well-practised hand built up an ever-mounting pressure inside Heero that was screaming for release, but Duo knew exactly how long to drag it out, to force the maximum effect, hopefully without being a tease. He found himself rocking faintly, following the hypnotic rhythm of Heero's heaving chest. His victim lashed out with both hands and grabbed nothing but two large clumps of blanket, while his eyebrows knit and his lips dried out from rapid respiration. He wouldn't hold out much longer. It was cruel to prolong his suffering. Duo's hand movements changed, finally nudging Heero across the threshold to his finish, a volcanic explosion of forbidden pleasure. Heero cried out, unable to hear himself for the pounding of his veins, rising up off the blanket as far as his posture would allow.

Just then, his enraptured face was the most beautiful thing Duo had ever seen, and he nearly cried. Heero had been alone in himself, a prisoner in his own body for so long that neither one knew if he could ever break out of his mental shell and fully join the human race, but just then, it happened. So paralysed by the sweet sight was Duo that he forgot he was even really there instead of in some glorious dream world, and when he remembered, he dried his hand off on a corner of the blanket and crawled up Heero's side to lie right up next to him, resting his head on his shoulder. Somewhere off in the distance, there was the odd sound of a girl shouting something, but they were both too wrapped up in their moment to listen to her words or even notice she was there.

Duo didn't want to let Heero go to sleep just yet, there was too much to talk about. Taking Heero's arm and wrapping it around himself, he snuggled closer and kissed his neck, even while he pressed his own swelling into Heero's side, trying to keep the tight, tingly sensation alive a little while longer. "You really didn't know what it was like...did you?"

Heero was only just coming out of the trance, and the mist stopping falling down on them at last. He needed a moment to register Duo's question in his mind, then squeezed the boy closer to him as he reminisced. "When your captors keep telling you things about yourself for so many years...that 'this shouldn't happen that way' or 'that shouldn't be happening at all'...you believe them." He rubbed one of his wrists where he was typically tied to his bunk at night, examining it as if he expected to find fresh rope burns. "They couldn't have allowed me to find out what it was like...they couldn't have controlled me if they did, and if you don't have to rely on them for _every last_ scrap of comfort or absence of pain...the control is gone." Heero shut his eyes tightly, not wanting the horrid memories to intrude on this exquisite moment. "They'll use every trick they have to keep you under their thumb...and even if you get away and start to think they were misleading you all along, it's hard to get their voices out of your head."

"_Try_," Duo said, and he rolled up on top of Heero again, sitting on his torso so he could stroke his chest lightly. "Stop listening to those maniacs. They've done enough damage, don't you think? Start listening to _me_ instead. We could have such a great time..._all_ the time...if you'd just _let_ yourself..."

Heero decided all at once that Duo had an excellent point, and pushed himself up off the blanket so he could flip Duo onto his back and lie heavily on top of him again, eliciting from him the most delicious moans yet. Heero's hands travelled everywhere, stroking every part of Duo they could reach, and eventually divesting him of the rest of his clothes. It took Duo by surprise, and he gasped at the sudden thought of lying there, nude, illuminated solely by starlight, but he saw that Heero was looking only into his eyes, and that warmed him so much that he scarcely noticed his own nakedness after that. Heero moved in for another long kiss, resting his full weight on Duo's midsection and shifting it as he pulled his arms around Duo to cradle his shoulders. Pulling his mouth away slightly, Heero slowly caressed one whole side of Duo's face with his own, moving towards his ear to ask permission, "...aishite-mo ii?"

Duo shivered, but with a beaming smile. He nodded and hugged Heero tightly. "...hai..."

Whatever happened between them after that would not be found out by anyone. Someone had come very close to discovering them, but they never knew it, and fate saw to it that they were left undisturbed for a long time.

**********  
  


Quatre sprinted up one hall and down another, taking the most direct route possible to the rear patio entrance, where he guessed that Relena would be venturing out from. She was there, staring out the French doors with her hand on the knob, working up the courage to actually set foot outside. Making the most of her pause, he ran straight up to her. "Miss, wait!"

Relena jumped, then turned to glare at him with a hand on her jolted heart. "What are you doing here? You should be in your room!"

"I don't think you should go out there," the gardener said, huffing and puffing. "It's not safe."

"I know that, and I'm going anyway."

She turned the handle and started to pull the door open, but Quatre leaned on it with one arm, shutting it again. "Just think about this for a moment, please? There is a _dangerous_ stranger out there, and if I may say so, it is _not_ a lady's job to secure her home against intruders. The police should be dealing with this, not you." At the same time he was hoping the police would turn their collective nose up at the job, because he didn't want to see Heero in trouble with the law any more than Relena did, if that was why she insisted on challenging him solo.

"It's not your job to tell me what to do either," she snapped before shoving him out of the way and flinging the door open. She was out on the patio in a flash, looking around for movement, but Quatre was hot on her heels. He ran ahead of her as she wandered south towards a clump of bushes large enough to hide several people, and skidded to a halt in front of her, making her scowl even more.

"Right!...if you don't get back in that house right now..." Quatre hung the phrase in mid-air, along with a warning finger similar to Otto's, then shrivelled up a little under the girl's fierce glare, but slowly recovered. "...I'm...going to...carry you back inside and lock you in your room." As soon as he said it, he understood what Trowa meant by his reluctance to challenge his superiors. It was scary. The way she was looking at him was scary. The way his stomach was doing flip-flops was scariest of all.

Relena folded her arms. "I don't know what you've been drinking, but save some for me, because I'm going to need it soon."

Like the answer to an unspoken prayer, Quatre felt a tiny drop of water on his face, and then another, and then another. There was a very fine, misty rain falling from the sky, and he raised his hands to collect the droplets while giving Relena a bold, defiant, 'See?' look. "It's raining. You'd better go in before you catch cold. Go on...shoo..."

The girl didn't even dignify that with an answer. She turned on her heel and walked off in the other direction, continuing her Heero hunt. Quatre dropped his arms down at his sides, momentarily glad that he hadn't been relieved of his duties, but at the same time irritated that she wasn't taking him seriously. He began to doubt whether it was worth the trouble after all. The others could have been right...Heero had stood up to Relena before, and he could theoretically do it again, and if Relena happened to see something she shouldn't, it was her own fault.

A lightbulb lit up in Quatre's brain. Was he really that worried about giving Heero and Duo time to be alone, or was he more concerned with Relena's feelings? He glanced after her, wandering around aimlessly under a midnight blue sky in a flimsy dress and satin shoes that wouldn't stand up to the rain, and seriously wondered if he was doing this to protect her instead. She really was a good, kind person when she wasn't being a shrew to her servants, and even then she was probably under more pressure than anyone knew, so it was only natural that she be a little cranky once in a while. There was so much Quatre didn't know about the upper classes that it was easy to imagine her as a sad, misunderstood person, just trying to get along with the world despite the world's efforts to knock her back time and again. He felt sorry for her, at times. The next thing he realized was that this feeling was far from new; he had felt sorry for her when her father died, and when her staff deserted her, and he had been there for her. More importantly, she had _wanted_ his comforting presence, and that felt nice. Before he knew what he was doing, he was walking towards her, while her back was still turned as she continued to search the grounds, keeping within running distance of the house just in case.

The path to Relena's position took Quatre close to the hedge maze, and as he neared it, a strange feeling came over him. He had definitely felt it before, but struggled to remember when. It was a warm, pleasant tugging in his belly, and it grew even when he stopped and stood still. Squinting in confusion, he brought a hand up to his chest and rubbed the spot just above his heart, and just then, a feeling of pressure began building up inside him, with a giddy tingling and a chorus of other enjoyable sensations. Then he recognized it; he had felt this way when he had nearly walked in on Duo and Heero in the kitchen late one night as they shared a small moment of passion over hot cocoa. If it was happening again...

The sensations changed suddenly, becoming more intense by a hundredfold. Fierce bouts of second-hand ecstasy were flooding his sixth sense from an indeterminable direction, and within moments, he could no longer stand up. He fell to his knees as his heartbeat quickened and his breathing deepened, clutching a handful of shirt and propping himself up with his free hand. Then he gradually straightened up, wobbling faintly and staring at the sky. There were beautiful colours everywhere he looked. The manor and its lands had disappeared. Even his sense of self was vanishing under the tidal wave of indescribable pleasure. It grew more and more powerful until, at the absolute apex of rapturous joy his nervous system could withstand, there was a final, massive jolt of energy that sent him reeling. He leaned all the way back until his thrown-back head was nearly touching the ground, and he gasped in the rain that trickled down onto his face and chest. At that very same moment, there was a powerful cry, from somewhere in the hedge maze, the primal scream of a battered soul dying and a new, gloriously alive one being born in its place. It was this transmutation from an emotionally barren carcass to a vibrant human being created out of love that blew out all of Quatre's inner circuitry and left him sprawled out on the grass.

Relena heard the cry first, and looked at the hedge maze second. It sounded like Heero's voice in a way, but it was frighteningly foreign to her ears. At first she thought he was in pain, but then doubted her analysis, not knowing why. Thirdly, as she turned around, she saw Quatre, lying almost motionless on the lawn, except for his heaving chest. She inhaled sharply and ran to him, crouching immediately beside him and shaking him by the shoulder. "What happened!? Can you hear me!? Tell me what's wrong!"

Quatre could hear nothing for several seconds, but he was aware of a warm body somewhere near him. In that drunken state of borrowed delights, he saw no reason why that body, whoever it was, wasn't experiencing the same thing he was. He wanted to make a connection with the person, and that drove him to do a very silly thing. Looking up at the blur that was actually Relena, he pushed himself into a sitting position, blinked groggily once or twice, and then pushed himself onto the anonymous body, toppling it over into the grass. Relena squealed with shock, and then made a muffled noise of protest as Quatre abruptly pressed his lips to hers in a chaste but unexpected way. She paused without knowing why, and then remembered herself by shoving him off her and slapping him across the face. Perhaps she just would have liked a little more warning before being kissed, but perhaps not.

Picking herself up off the ground and frantically brushing grass off her dress, Relena dashed back into the house and slammed the French doors so hard that the panes of glass rattled in their frames. Quatre took a moment to wake up, once the external stimulus had stopped, and then he wondered why his face hurt. Then he wondered what he was doing on the ground. Then he wondered where Relena was, and finally asked himself if he had just blacked out. He was unable to recall any of what just happened. He had chased after Relena for a bit, then thought about comforting her long ago when the house was all but empty...then nothing. Puzzled beyond belief, he stood up and wobbled into the kitchen in search of some coffee.

Relena was unable to comprehend any of it. She made straight for the front hall where Otto and Bertram were instructed to wait for her, and arrived before deciding what to tell them.

"Did you see him?" Otto asked as soon as he caught sight of her coming down the hall. "Is he going to leave peacefully? I can still have the police here in ten minutes."

Those were good questions, Relena thought to herself, staring blankly. Heero had suddenly been shoved out of the picture. "Never mind that now, I'm going home. My shawl, please, Bertram."

Otto looked dumbfounded. "But the trains have all stopped by now! It'll cost a _fortune_ to go back by carriage at this time of night!"

"I don't care! I wouldn't stay in this house tonight if you paid me!" The butler brought Relena her wrap, and she tossed it around herself haphazardly. She was about to burst back through the front door and vamoose without another word, but soon decided she would have to leave the men with some show of confidence, just to quiet them for the short term. Swallowing once and putting her managerial face back on, she turned around at the door, clasped her hands together at waist level and looked authoritatively at the two servants before her. "Gentlemen...I'm only going to say this once. There _is_ no prowler." She left them with that cryptic remark, trotted down the front walk, got back into the cab, and rolled away.

**********  
  


There was very little energy left for the boys to expend, but it was used up in a good cause. An unmeasured amount of time later, they laid curled up together on the blanket, facing the same direction with Heero cuddling Duo from behind. Their trousers were safely back on, but looked rumpled, as if they had been tossed into a corner or even caught by an outstretched limb of the surrounding hedge. The gentle rain had long since stopped, and the warm air went with it, leaving the pair unprotected against the coming chill of night, but they didn't seem to care.

Heero had one arm snugly coiled around Duo's waist, pressing them tightly together, while the other hand was stroking through the damp, loose chocolate tresses of his unravelled braid over and over again. Nearly asleep, the last of Duo's concentration was focused on lapping up the attention, but when a cool patch of air dove between the high hedges and swirled around them, he gave a tiny shiver. Heero caressed the pale shoulder right in front of his chin, and kissed the back of Duo's neck, humming. "Is my little mouse cold?" Duo wriggled and squeaked as a reply, smiling as Heero tightened his grip on him. There couldn't have been a more perfect slice of summer evening, even without being polluted with the scent of artificial lilac.

It was late, and they were contentedly tired. Heero couldn't possibly send Duo back into the cramped little hole he was currently calling a bedroom; he nuzzled his neck just underneath his ear. "Come away with me," he whispered, referring to the pub. Catherine wouldn't have locked the doors yet, and the clientele would be so drunk by then that they would scarcely notice the two of them slipping upstairs.

Duo groggily sat up, pulling Heero along with him. He nuzzled Heero back with a stupid grin. "Well, I dunno...what've you got for breakfast over there?"

"Anything you want," Heero said, and he meant it. He would climb the Alps to bring back ice to make ice cream with, if that was what Duo wanted. They each laced a hand together, still coming down from their dizzying peaks of enjoyment, and kissed one more time before getting up, gathering up their clothes, and making themselves presentable enough to walk down the street without attracting too much attention. Heero shook grass off the plaid blanket before rolling it up, while Duo searched the square of lawn for his hair tie and pulled his tangled locks back into a loose ponytail. It was getting late.

Once Relena was gone and there was no fear of retribution, Otto and Bertram argued back and forth about what to do with the prowler situation, then went out back with two lanterns and searched the grounds thoroughly, but whomever they expected to find was long gone. The prowler and his partner in crime had vanished, joyfully, into the night.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Eighty-Four: Problems carry on for the rest of the world while Duo and Heero bask in their new-found happiness. Dorothy confronts Treize and demands to know what her place is in his plans, the Cinq Association selection committee sends out a shocking memorandum, and a shift in power is revealed (or covered up?) at the heart of Lord Jeffrhyss' organization._

....... =D *eats a candy cigarette* Was it good for you? *grinz* I want you to know, this was probably one of the most difficult things I've ever had to write...not that I didn't enjoy it. =^_~= But I have to push my own envelope, and that of the story as well, so I hope not too many of you think I went too far. Probably, more of you think it was a long time coming. Either way, I'm anxious to hear what you have to say about it. And it's NOT THE END, by the way...next episode, barring a technological disaster like the one we had this week, will be on June 13th (it's a Friday! eeek!).


	84. Game On

**Disclaimer:** These characters are used and abused without permission. And they love it.

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Eighty-Four: Game On

_"I love myself today, not like yesterday,  
You're dead and gone, I'm gonna get my way.  
I love myself today, not like yesterday,  
Take another look at me now...  
'Cause it's your last look...your last look forever." ~Bif Naked, "I Love Myself Today" _

June 13th, 1903

On the night the prowler attacked, Duo disappeared. There was no ransom note, no letter of resignation, no indication whatsoever of where he had gone or why. He was missing for three days.

Then, on the morning of the fourth day, he magically reappeared at his post, cheerfully frying day-old bread for the staff's breakfast. He gave no explanation for his absence, and gladly took it on the chin when Bertram Augustus bawled him out for being AWOL. He smiled as he was penalized with a ten percent pay cut, and he laughed when he was summarily demoted to sous-chef. Nobody could fathom why he seemed so wretchedly happy, except Hilde, who got all the best gossip out of him while the rest settled for nothing.

Presumably humbled, the braided cook was sent back to work, now ranking below the hated Merlyn, but he was all grins and gleeful conversation, making for a refreshing puzzle. Within hours of his return, he was actually taking direction from the redheaded woman, and was quick to bow to her authority with regards to menu choices, ingredient shopping, and even who prepared what dish. Merlyn herself was most taken aback by the change, and was still mentioning it to Duo days after the fact. "Are you _quite_ sure you don't mind de-boning the trout for me?" she asked on the morning of the thirteenth.

"Not in the slightest!" he chirped with an angelic grin, and he got right to it without complaining. "Never let it be said that I'm afraid of menial work! Whatever's good for my kitchen is good for me!"

"Oh, how jolly of you!" Merlyn cheered, now able to focus her energies on the main course. "It's taken me awhile to realize it, but you're _much_ more sensible than _some_ of the assistants I've had in the past. Did I ever tell you about the nine months I spent cooking in a lovely little Greek taverna on the Mediterranean where I was the _only_ one who spoke English?"

Normally, Duo would have run screaming from the room at the merest mention of Merlyn's past triumphs, but today it was different. "No, you haven't! Tell me now, pleeeease?" On his way from the cutlery drawer to the worktable, he stopped next to her, and leaned into her side with puppy-dog eyes blinking away. "You know I just _love_ hearing all your _fascinating_ stories!"

Merlyn blushed through a conceited laugh, draped a dramatic hand over her heart as if she wasn't worthy of such praise, and launched into her tale while simultaneously inventing a new sauce with paper and pen, to be served with the trout that evening. "It had a _magnificent_ view, this taverna, and the owner was the typical swarthy, bare-armed brute with a moustache, and if I do say so myself, he quite fancied me..."

Knowing that she was good for another hour at least, Duo quietly left his spot at the table and slipped over to the pantry, where Hilde had snuck downstairs and hidden herself, hoping for a crumb of conversation. He leaned against the doorway with his back to the kitchen, folded his arms, and arched his eyebrows in the vague direction of his superior. "Some piece of work, isn't she?"

Hilde went up on tiptoe to glance over his shoulder. The indomitable Merlyn was still talking as if Duo was still listening. "I'm more impressed with _you_! A week ago, you would've given yourself a clump of papercuts with a cookbook to get out of one of her stories!"

"Yep, well..." Smiling again, Duo stretched both arms over his head and then out to his sides, like a contented cat standing on his back paws. "Nothing three days in Blackpool couldn't cure."

Hilde hadn't heard the part about Blackpool yet, and she almost squealed audibly from desperately wanting to know more. She bit one hand to keep quiet, and reached out with the other to snag Duo by the arm and pull him closer so she could threaten him with tickle-torture until he coughed up the facts, but he darted out of her grasp, heading back to the kitchen table where she didn't dare follow.

While the poor girl nearly tore her hair out in delicious frustration, Duo went back to acting delighted to hear Merlyn's story, and she picked up the loose end of his attention seamlessly, unaware that he had ever left. A few paragraphs into the tale later, the doorbell rand, sending a faint, melodious clanging downstairs that made Duo look up for just a moment. He instinctively knew who was at the door, and the little hairs on the back of his neck bristled in electric anticipation. His love was approaching.

**********  
  


In his characteristic clipped pace, Bertram Augustus marched his mirror-shined black shoes up through the foyer to answer the call of the musical doorbell. With no possibilities in his mind more intriguing than a charity canvasser or a salesman, he got a surprisingly large shock at what stood on the front step.

It was a young man of about eighteen, clad entiredly in black from head to foot. The suit was new, with impeccable stitching and a shine to the lapels that marked it as top quality, with a white shirt collar peeking out the top under a business-like black tie. In the spots where his spiky dark hair didn't cover his face, a pair of dark, oval spectacles blotted out his eyes, and the ensemble was capped by an imposing black overcoat that missed brushing the ground by about eight inches. The stranger had his hands clasped in front of him, still as a statue, eerily staring out at the world from behind dark gray glass. For a moment, Bertram thought that the boy was rather like the housemaids' description of the prowler, but that was impossible. He wouldn't have dared to show up at the front door. Surely not. "Can I help you?" the butler asked in is 'I'm better than you' voice.

"Quite easily," said the boy in black. "Excuse me..." He poked the butler strongly in the shoulder and pushed him back, walking briskly into the house.

"Now, see here!" protested Bertram, making chase. "Just what do you think you're doing!?"

Clearly not listening, the stranger in black strode directly to the drawing room, knowing right where it was, and ducked inside. While the aging butler was still trying to catch up with him, he went to the secret panel in the one undecorated wall, slipped inside, exited through the opposite panel into the neighbouring room, and was back out in the hall and strolling boldly towards his destination while Bertram stood flabbergasted in the middle of the drawing room, wondering how the intruder could have vanished from a closed room.

Heero smirked and tugged on the lapels of his overcoat, shaking off a few drops of lukewarm, misty rain as he headed for the conservatory. This was the new Heero, a blend of his old self and the passionate creation of three days away with Duo, with the transitional months of doubt and weakness tossed aside. It was time to re-take control, to grab the reins of the situation and pull it back onto the road where it belonged.

He walked right up to the glass conservatory door, beyond which Trowa and Quatre were having a quiet cup of morning tea, facing the yard. Heero stopped at the door and slammed an open palm on it, creating a bang that made the unsuspecting pair jump, slosh their teacups around violently, and in Quatre's case, dribble some of the brew down his chin in the ensuing shock. They both twisted around and had their level of surprise doubled by the sight of Heero in a blacker-than-black suit and sunglasses. He took his hand off the door, snapped his fingers once, pointed at the boys and then pointed to his right, disappearing in that direction a second later. Trowa and Quatre looked at each other with a mutual squint that suggested they weren't too sure who it really was at the door, but the sheer forcefulness of the gesture commanded them to get up and follow.

Ignorant of what was striding confidently to the kitchen, Hilde remained hidden in the pantry, watching as Duo deftly deflected another of Merlyn's unconscious insults, even while making her a cup of coffee. He passed the porcelain beaker into her waiting hand, and she only barely noticed it as she rambled on through her fourth story in ten minutes. As a pair of purposeful footsteps approached via the stairwell, she didn't bat an eyelid until a very well-dressed, dark-haired youth in sun specs charged in between her and Duo, snatched the coffee out of her grasp, and took a leisurely sip as he circled around the kitchen table. Duo grinned.

Merlyn, for what was probably the first time in her life, was speechless. She stood there with her mouth hanging open at the stranger, and was about to let fly with a typically acrid barb when the boy turned to face her suddenly. "Don't know if you're interested," he said, "but there's a man down the end of the block with a cart, and he's selling genuine hand-picked white truffles at thirty percent below market value."

"....." Somehow, Merlyn's jaw dropped even farther, and her face glowed with the combined ecstatic vigors of a hard-core bargain hunter and a true gourmet. Suddenly giddy, she hitched up her skirts and dashed up the stairs, two at a time in her high-heeled boots, to catch the ficticious man and his cut-price delicacies.

"Smooth," Duo said admiringly.

Behind the dark spectacles, Heero flicked up his eyebrows as he raised the coffee cup for another sip. "Bigger fish need bigger bait."

Hilde came running over, just as Trowa and Quatre emerged from the stairwell, glancing backwards at Merlyn's path of retreat. All four of them crowded around Heero, pawing and poring over his new suit. Duo had only seen it on the mannequin in the store window, so having it modelled in person at last was a double treat. "Well, _you_ sure know how to make an entrance all of a sudden!" crowed Hilde as she ran a hand delicately up and down his lapel. "And where did you get this?"

"Mostly from Knightsbridge," Heero admitted, still getting used to the sense of pride that came with the outfit. "Except the shirt. Some tailor with a foreign-sounding name...Izod, I think."

Quatre blinked oddly at the extravagance. "Expensive?"

"Absolutely. I've recently come to believe in dressing for success."

While Heero's improved presence was compelling, Trowa felt duty-bound as a member of the lower class to act offended. "That's what you do with your spare time while we're breaking our backs to serve people who wear cheaper suits than this?"

Heero smirked at the attempted insult. "No, what I do in my spare time is plan meetings for my team, like the one we're having at two o'clock today, at Catherine's."

"But...Otto's keeping us all on a _very_ short leash," Quatre said doubtfully. "We can't get away..."

"Yes you can," said Heero. He was able to make it a request, a command, and a helpful suggestion all at once. "We're all going to start working on priorities, beginning today. I expect you to be there. I _need_ you to be there." With a slight pause, he let that sink in while draining the rest of the coffee. "We've got to go to work."

Duo looked around at the other three faces and saw little bits of indecision and worry stuck to them in very obvious places. "Well, don't just stand there, start thinking up excuses for Otto," he ordered, glancing admiringly at his partner. "Less than four hours to go..."

Trowa and Quatre looked at each other, looked at Heero again, noticed that he seemed taller than before, and began backing up towards the stairs. Quatre was nodding faintly, placating the most dangerous person he knew so they could retreat long enough to think about the situation. "Okay...okay, we'll think of something..." They backed up so far that Trowa hit the bottom step with the back of his foot and stumbled backwards, catching himself on the handrail just in time. Seconds later, they were gone.

Hilde was in a very pleasant sort of awe, and stepped up to Heero from the front, reaching up to straighten his tie, blushing. "You know _I'll_ be there, even if I have to stuff my bed with pillows and play sick for the afternoon," she giggled coquettishly.

Tipping his dark specs partway down his nose with one hand, so he could give her a smouldering gaze over the top of the slender wire rims, Heero treated her to a version of the secret smile he saved for Duo. "That's ever so good of you," he purred. Hilde squeaked with delight, rising up on her toes, and skipped a few steps away. She had been wondering where this side of him had been hiding lately, and she was very glad to have him back.

More or less alone, Duo and Heero locked eyes on each other, and slithered as close together as they could get without actually touching. They had been holding in the impulse to do so ever since Heero set foot in the kitchen, but it was easier than they expected, for they knew that any separation they suffered throughout the day could be easily made up for that night in the pub. Gazing past each other's physical forms and into the warm, safe place where their minds could intermingle without the world looking in on them and judging them, they stood still for a moment, letting tiny currents of energy swirl between them, through them, around them, from one to the other. Their pulses picked up speed, and Heero shut his eyes and leaned forward, nudging past Duo's face and stopping with his nose an inch from the spot where his shoulder met his neck. He inhaled, slowly and deeply, dragging his head upwards and back until they were standing nose-to-nose again, staring into each other's eyes for a few seconds longer. Then he tapped his specs back up where they belonged and headed for the back door, after giving Duo one last, tiny, passion-charged smile that promised everything he could ever want, later. Heero slipped out into the back yard and was gone, off to make preparations for the meeting.

"Wow," Hilde breathed, after padding up to Duo's side, where they stood staring at the back door with unspoken sighs.

Duo smiled hungrily. "You said it."

"A holiday in Blackpool, a new suit...how can you two afford this??"

"We got lucky on a horse." Stopping to think about his explanation, Duo quickly amended it, red-faced. "I mean, we _bet_ on a horse, and the horse won."

Hilde pictured both versions in her head, and only barely stopped herself from grinning. "Nice save."

"Thank you, I'm proud of it."

**********  
  


For the past several weeks, Dorothy had been inching closer and closer to the end of her rope. Ever since Quatre was repatriated out from under her very nose, Treize had been very clear in blaming her bumbling for the whole issue. When she thought back on the event, over and over through many sleepless nights, she couldn't understand why it was still _her_ fault, when she had actually had very little to do with anything, at the Count's insistence that she stay out of the important business, lest she muck it up like everything else. There was no concrete reason to blame herself for the failure, but the more she heard it, the more she believed it. To make up for her dreadful shortcomings, she was staying up late, neglecting her appearance, and eating less and less while she focused wholly on developing a new plan to make Quatre their prisoner once again.

A pitiful sight she was, grovelling to Treize's study with her hair all askew, no makeup at all, and the plainest and easiest to get in and out of dress in her entire wardrobe, clutching a stack of handwritten notes on Lady Une's monogrammed stationery. He paid her no mind when she said she could get the gardener back, and after all her effort, that simply infuriated her. "You haven't listened to a word I've said!" she caterwauled at the top of her voice, shaking fistfuls of paper at him as he lounged in a wing chair with a lit cigar. "I can get him back here! I _know_ I can! All I'm asking for is one more chance!"

Treize gave her a bland look. "One day, you must learn the distinction between an interested face and an indifferent face." With his non-cigar hand, he pointed to his chiseled features, still purposely affable. "Look, and memorize."

"Alright, I've made mistakes before, but I've been working harder than ever to come up with a plan! Look at these!" She practically flung the notes into his lap, weeks of work fluttering down to him on the wings of his impending approval. "Each one a masterpiece! Any of them could put Quatre in the palm of your hand, and then you wouldn't have anything else to worry about! You'd be set!"

Chuckling lightly, Treize picked up a clump of papers and ran an eye over Dorothy's notes and plans, outlining dozens of possible scenarios, all with one goal in mind. He tossed the papers on the floor. "Child's play. Why don't I just do it myself? If this is the best you can come up with, why don't I just walk into the Manor and _take_ him?" He shoved himself up off the wing chair and stepped on the plans as he began walking in a slow circle around Dorothy. "I'll tell you why. Kidnapping a small boy isn't going to _impress_ anyone." As he passed the desk, he scooped up two trifolded sheets of premium embossed linen, bearing a neatly-typed message. "Do you see this? It's a letter...from the selection committee. They want each of the finalists, myself included, to perform what they call 'feats'...fanciful acts of power to prove our worthiness. Do you think anyone's going to care whether or not I can snatch a simple _gardener_ from his potting shed?"

Hearing the notes of contempt that she feared so much sent Dorothy into a tailspin, and she recoiled in horror. "What does it matter? In a few weeks, or even days, he could be worth a fortune!"

"Not while his oldest sister is a captive of one of my potential rivals. An established member of Cinq has her...I know because I got a tip, several months ago, in fact. Would it not be a thousand times more awe-inspiring to steal this sibling away from a secure facility surrounded by guards and snipers than to toss little Quatre in a sack while Otto's back is turned?" The Count scoffed and closed the gap between himself and the girl, taking another long drag of the cigar and blowing the smoke into her face. "You have no sense of scope.....which is quite disappointing, really. Not surprising, but disappointing." He stopped a few inches away and leaned down, pushing her back and daring her to step away and flee like the frightened rabbit she must have been, and then breathed at her in a husky voice, "I expect a _real_ baroness would have noticed that tiny hitch _long_ ago."

As Treize stood back up and moved away again, Dorothy's pale, blotchy face with the bags under her eyes and the dry, crusted-over lips, turned to a freezing-cold slab of cement, stark and unmoving except for two bloodshot eyes charged with anger, panic, and humiliation that followed Treize back to his chair. Did he know? Could he really have been humouring her all this time? What kind of man would keep an ambitious girl like her dangling around, waiting for scraps of acknowledgement or a few coins to go shopping with, when all along he was waiting to crush her back down to the level she started out on? She wanted to scream and throw things, but knew that even if she had the strength, it would only get her tossed out of the house, and she would be even worse off than before. Shaking slightly from head to toe, she fixated on Treize with a fearful glower, padding forward in her slippers, until she dropped to the floor and hastily picked up every one of her discarded papers, gathering them into a messy stack piled in one arm. She refused to meet his eyes again as she stood up and fled the room, then broke down in whimpery tears the second she was outside. Dorothy ran to her little room, which she was thinking of more and more as her cell, dropping papers along the way until she could lock herself inside and sob properly. The dream was officially over.

**********  
  


In Sutherby's grand old library, Milliardo and Lucrezia were puzzling over a document that had arrived on their doorstep a few minutes previous. It was two pages of expensive-looking paper, typed with a letter, folded in three and sealed with a drop of wax bearing the numeral '5' surrounded by acanthus leaves. The hand-delivered note took up their full attention as they huddled together at the giant worktable, trying to read it.

Milliardo shook his head at the ridiculously embellished verbage used in the letter. "...I don't know," he moaned, flipping from page two back to page one in disgust. "We may need an attorney to decipher some of this."

"It can't be that bad if it came from people who treat mass carnage as a spectator sport," Lucrezia scoffed.

"The language is horrendously ornate," Milliardo pointed out tiredly. "'Party of the first part, party of the second part, signified _ab initio_, feats to be determined _per curiam_, _sub silentio_, _contra bonos mores_'..."

"Give it to me, my Latin's better than yours." Miss Noin snatched the pages out of his hand and began studying the letter line by line, squinting and moving her lips silently. While she worked, Milliardo looked a short distance across the room to a small desk with a plush chair in front of it, and in that chair was his dear sister. She didn't look like she was able to concentrate on the message, but any thoughts he might have had about going over to her and checking on her state of mind were quashed as Lucrezia came through with a rough translation. "The Cinq selection committee wants a show of our power, to assist in evaluating us against the other candidates. Apparently finances aren't enough to guarantee our place."

Milliardo scowled, then got up and paced around the room. "A show of strength...when we have none. We have no one who will follow our orders, even if we knew what orders to give." He stopped a ways from Relena, where she still sat motionless at the desk, and walked up to her.

Relena was unaware of anything, staring into space with her chin propped up in one hand, and the other hand in her lap. No letter from Cinq, no matter how important or cryptic it was, could drag her out of the state of perplexity in which she was deeply mired. Confusion was her only companion lately. What happened with Quatre a few nights ago was still fresh in her memory, and it spawned dozens of questions that she didn't have the emotional resources to answer. Why would he kiss her with no warning whatsoever? Why wasn't she angry with him, even though her relative social position demanded that she discipline him on the spot? Why was she still thinking about it?

It had been many months ago, but Relena had actually encouraged Quatre's affection with soft, flirty advances, which he repulsed. It was a little late for him to be reacting to those advances _now_, so what on earth had changed between them? They had hardly seen or spoken to each other for a long time, so perhaps he realized what a mistake he made by refusing her, and grew more attached to her as the days worn on, she reasoned desperately. Less disturbing than the question of why he did it was why she was still dwelling on it, days after the fact. There had always been something about Quatre she liked, even when he first arrived at the Manor. He was stable, dependable, and ever so polite. Marcus was polite, but a bit flightly. Heero was dependable, at times, but also had the capacity to be unconscionably rude and self-serving. When one put them side-by-side, it seemed obvious that Quatre was the best of both worlds, but she had never seriously thought of being tied to him romantically before. Now she _was_ thinking about it, even while Marcus and Heero were still bouncing around her brainpan at the same time. All three of them were clanging around in there, tugging at her from all directions, and she just couldn't take it at that particular moment. Thinking about all three of them consumed her suddenly, and blotted out current events so much that Milliardo had to call her name three times and finally shake her by the shoulder to get her attention. She gasped and looked up at him.

"Are you not feeling well?" her brother asked with a slightly worried tone.

"No, I..." Relena dragged a hand across her brow, feeling almost feverish. "I think I'd better go lie down for awhile." She staggered out of the plush chair and through the library door, quickly and unassisted. She herself wasn't sure if she needed a distraction to keep her from thinking about the boys, or a quiet spot so she could think about them all the more.

Milliardo gazed after her, then over at Lucrezia, needed a female insight into the female mind. "What do you suppose...?"

Lucrezia didn't like the look of Relena's pale, troubled visage one bit, and glared up at the man with tightly restrained ferocity. "She's cracking. I _warned_ you! Didn't I warn you!?"

Unwilling to believe that the pressure was getting to his sister already, Milliardo shook his head and stalked off into the shadows. "Rubbish," he muttered. All the while when he was at war, he pictured his sister growing stronger instead of weaker, and she had shown remarkable mental stamina thus far. He simply couldn't accept that she was floundering around in doubt and fear, but perhaps he simply didn't _want_ to accept what might have been, for it would already have been too late to fix it.

**********  
  


When Heero said there was to be a meeting at two precisely, there _was_ a meeting at two, _precisely_. Nobody dared disobey, but it wasn't inspired by fear. Something about Heero had truly changed, like the dial of a lock clicking into its final position, the way it was meant to be. The power he now exuded was intoxicating, enthralling, impossible to ignore. The three boys, plus Hilde, were in the conference room at the pub ten minutes early just to be sure. Sally was there twenty minutes early, having been made an offer she couldn't refuse earlier that day. They all sat around the polished wooden table, leaning well back in their chairs and glancing amongst themselves with a twitchy anticipation of what would happen when their leader arrived.

When the door finally opened at 1:59, they all looked up. Wufei entered first, looking steadily over his shoulder with a trepidation that was highly abnormal for him. Behind him walked Heero, hands in the pockets of his blacker-than-black jacket, sans the overcoat but still sporting the dark spectacles, even indoors. They added to the frightening electricity of his total image. Glaring in a disbelieving way, Wufei gradually sat down, unable to say anything. Finally satisfied that he had his team's undivided attention, Heero moved slowly to the chair at the head of the table, stood behind it, took off the dark specs, and tucked them into his front pocket. Looking around the circle, he cleared his throat once, and they all straightened up in their seats. That made him smile.

"Good to see you've all retained your sense of punctuality," he said, leaning both hands against the back of his chair. "Time is crucial, so I'll get right to the point. We've been meeting like this for nearly a year now, discussing the exploits of the Cinq Association, poring over Giorgenson's notes and correspondence...hypothesizing, strategizing, training...and where has it gotten us? What have we accomplished in that time? Nothing! We talk and talk, but never actually _do_ anything. Why? Not because we're lacking information...we all agreed that something _had_ to be done, and since the authorities would never believe us, we were obviously the ideal candidates to take action...but we've been sitting on our hands for far too long."

"You have an idea?" asked Wufei, sounding surprised.

"That won't get us killed or maimed?" asked Hilde, sounding timid.

Heero ignored them both and looked instead at Quatre, who sat up even straighter at being singled out. "Do you remember one of Relena's society parties, where the older men were comparing the state of their properties, and holding some childish verbal competition over who had the prettiest estate?"

The gardener nodded slowly. "Sure I do."

"You remember what that Mr. Finchely said about his back yard? Thirty-one acres ruined in the space of one summer? What caused it?"

Quatre did indeed recall that conversation. He had been only a few paces away at the time, tending the roses, but listened with interest, and relayed the man's sad tale in passing to the rest of his colleagues. "Bugs. Some species of beetle swarmed in and ate most of the grass roots."

"A beetle. About how big?"

"Oh, I'd say..." The gardener held up his forefinger and thumb about a half-inch apart, and looked up at his commander with an estimatory lift of his eyebrows.

Heero mimicked the hand gesture, looking around the table at the other faces. "Something _this_ small....._destroyed_ thirty acres of lush parkland, and nobody could stop it."

Trowa squinted. "What are you getting at?"

"I think I know," Sally piped up with a trace of a smile to compliment her sly gaze. "Gulliver and the Lilliputians."

Heero snapped his fingers and pointed at Sally. "Exactly."

The less-than-literati among the group blinked at the pair. "What and the who?" Wufei commented.

"It's a story about an English explorer who sails around the world," Quatre supplied in his schoolteacher's voice. "He lands in a strange place where all the people are six inches high, and not being too used to visitors...they tie him up in his sleep and hold him captive."

Duo leaned back in his chair and shrugged. "You gotta have precautions. He might have tried to sell them a set of encyclopedias if they didn't stop him first." Hilde promptly whacked him in the shoulder, and he whimpered in submission.

Heero indulged in a moment's contemplation of his mouse, and drifted away briefly, back to the weekend of sensual self-discovery. There was something about finding his emotional niche in the universe that unfettered the confidence and cognitive ability that had been eluding him recently. Once he and Duo established themselves to each other as an unbreakable unit, he felt as if he could accomplish anything. "I believe the whole reason we've failed to make any moves against Cinq, or even Treize by himself, is that once we found out the massive scale on which they were shaping history...we all felt too small...too insignificant to stop them. That kind of thinking has kept us uselessly spinning our wheels for months, and it stops _now_."

Gradually, the others were energized by his determination. They saw what they had been missing, or even cheated out of, for the longest time--a strong leader. Now instead of slouching and counting the minutes until the meeting was adjourned and they could all dive into a platter of sandwiches, they were riveted to his every word, at last beginning to get excited about what good deeds they might be able to do for the world.

Heero pulled his chair out of the way and stood right up to the table, leaning forward on one arm while pointing fiercely at the air with his other hand. "The most intimidating thing about the Cinq Association is their size and strength...but _our_ size _is_ our strength! We are going to carry out a widespread, systematic campaign of sabotage, not just against them, but against the individual factions vying for that fifth chair Giorgenson left vacant. We will be too small and insignificant to be noticed until our damage is already done, and by the time they realize it, we'll be long gone. This is how it's going to work from now on, and you are all gong to be equally important to our success. Either we all agree right now that we're going to take these monsters out of the picture, or we disband and agree to hang it up...and whatever happens to the world is no fault of ours. But I know we can do it. I know all of _you_ have great things to offer, and if we really start thinking as a team, not just in this room, but _all the time and everywhere_.....we can take 'em down."

Everyone was silent, stunned by the force of his words and the passion in his voice. A magic spell fell upon them as they finally felt as if they had some direction, a place to run to and a leader to show them the way. It was all going swimmingly as Heero wove his tapestry of positive thinking, until something under the table meowed. Shadow leapt up out of nowhere onto the tabletop, invoking the most adorable surprised look on Heero's face. At the end of his speech, he had leaned forward on the table, wedged up by his closed fists lying knuckle-down on the lacquered surface, and Shadow casually climbed up his right arm, putting her forepaws on his shoulder and purring as she nuzzled the side of his face. Heero made an 'Ahem' face, and everyone snickered a bit. "So much for my new tough-guy image..."

"All in favour of making Shadow the official team mascot!?" Duo shouted.

"Aye!" the chorus hollered back, hands in the air.

"Yes, very nice," Heero snarked lightly, taking Shadow down off his arm and putting her down on the table, stroking her back as she sniffed around the tray of sandwiches looking for the salmon-filled one. "Now, about the _real_ vote? All in favour of being a major thorn in the side of the Cinq Association?"

The hands all went up again, and on everyone's face was a confident smile, and to Heero's ultimate shock and disbelief, even Wufei seemed agreeable. Now they had faith, even though they didn't have details of what they would do, or how, or when. Having a true leader was good enough, and Duo smiled in self-congratulation for helping to bring it about. The fact that Heero had rediscovered his personal power at that particular time in his life was no coincidence, Duo was quite certain. Somehow, their union made it possible for that power to emerge, stronger than it was before, and it knowing that he could change someone he loved so dramatically, even in his own small way, was a wonderful feeling.

**********  
  


While smaller bases of operations closed down and moved on a regular rotation, the Isle of Wight was an eternal constant, a solid installation that was very likely to remain where it was indefinitely. Very little ever changed there, and if something did, very few people knew about it. Lord Jeffrhyss' team worked strictly on a need-to-know basis.

In the gray-haired despot's private study, everything looked the same as usual, with one minor exception: Lord Jeffrhyss himself was strangely absent.

No one at the base had seen him since he left for the grand assembly, though they were all apparently still following his orders. It wasn't that unusual for His Lordship to vanish for days and reappear somewhere else, but the organization as a whole was still waiting for visual confirmation.

Individually, Byron needed no such confirmation, and he gave an inward chuckle to the rest of the masses who were still in the dark. At the moment, he was enjoying the high life that came with knowing what he knew. He was sitting in Jeffrhyss' chair, drinking Jeffrhyss' port, and playing with the various scientific novelties on Jeffrhyss' desk, like the Newton's Cradle and the amethyst geode. Everything His Lordship ever owned or was ever worth was at Byron's disposal, and he was loving it.

In between sips of port, he took a quill pen from its inkwell and put the finishing touches on a wobbly scrawl at the bottom of a one-page document. After putting the quill away, he gingerly lifted the page up and blew lightly on the fresh ink, then smirked as he admired his handiwork. _Not bad,_ he thought. _Not bad at all. In fact, I defy anyone but Jeffrhyss himself to tell the difference._

What he had done was create a near-perfect copy of the old master's signature, on an order to be carried out as if it came from His Lordship's own hand. Now all that remained was to have the order executed, and for that, Byron needed to summon a high-ranking officer from the council chamber. There was a drawer of Jeffrhyss' desk that contained nothing but a switchboard of buttons, buttons that would activate some bell, buzzer, or light bulb elsewhere in the compound. Byron wasn't sure which signal would be given, but knew what button to press in order to get someone important to come running.

He pressed a button. Mere moments later, a middle-aged man in a gray uniform and cap entered the study, with something less than a sun-shiney smile on his face. "Ah, good," Byron cooed. "I have something I'd like to pass along to the rest of...what do you call yourselves? Upper-middle management?"

Byron held the paper out to the man in the gray uniform, but the officer gave a slight hesitation and a scowl before taking it. He read it over and gave the boy a disapproving glare. "A berserker order?"

"I hope you're not questioning His Lordship's judgement," Byron warned with a raised eyebrow.

The gray man looked past Byron to a heavy metal door that led to Lord Jeffrhyss' private mini-residence, a self-contained suite with it's own power source and ventilation system. While it was quite possible for their leader to retreat there for a few days at a stretch, he had never been out of touch this long. "This order calls for the termination of a very _costly_ prototype. I would prefer to confirm it with His Lordship _personally_, if possible." He was practically daring Byron to either produce Jeffrhyss or tell where he was _really_ hiding.

Byron slowly rose with his fingertips perched on the desk, challenging the man right back with an icy stare. "That signature should be good enough for you and anyone else. I watched His Lordship sign the order not two minutes ago, and he was quite anxious to see it carried out. The prototype is a failure. It's no great loss." He folded his arms, wriggled, and smiled proudly. "Now, run along! Chop-chop!"

The gray man didn't trust this young upstart one bit, but he would take the berserker order to the council and see how the rest of them all voted. The odds were highly against a mass dissension. "Sir," he affirmed with an unpleasant nod before turning and striding to the door.

"Oh, just one more thing," Byron added, making the uniformed man pause. "See that the order only goes out to those with delta level security clearance and higher...we don't want any false sightings from the grunts." The gray man acknowledged this briefly, and left.

_Well, now!_ Byron praised himself with a smile. _You're finally moving up in the world, aren't you? Nicely done!_ With a grand flourish that no one but him could see, he refilled his port glass, took an extended swig, and wandered languidly around the study, patting himself on the back for his ingenuity. There had only been a handful of men present when Lord Jeffrhyss was shot, and within minutes, Byron had every one of them in his back pocket. With a late-night excursion into the desert and a few well-placed lies afterwards, Byron found himself running the whole show. Each time he forged Jeffrhyss' signature, it looked better than the last, and nobody ever questioned him. The atmosphere of mystery and paranoia that engulfed the organization was finally working to his advantage.

He stopped at a massive leather chair and sank into it immediately, draining the rest of the port in one gulp. Before him, on a low table, was a chessboard, and on the chessboard were many hand-carved pieces in exotic woods. Byron picked up a black pawn and smirked at it, glistening in the moody orange lamplight. "You shouldn't have crossed me, my friend," he said to the pawn. "I might have been able to save you from His Lordship's wrath, after all...but now you haven't a single bridge left that isn't going up in flames before your very eyes."

Byron turned the pawn over and read the name on the bottom, which spoke quietly to him in fading black ink: 'Heero Yuy'. He smirked. "I'm going to enjoy watching you die."

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Eighty-Five: Relena interviews her preferred candidates for the job of facilitating Milliardo's Cinq bid, but the six sisters she has in mind are being held back by a problem they created through negligence. Heero starts picking out special skills for his team to study._

[Edit: Yes, this new server must go. Don't fret, we're working on it.] ...and the beat goes on... =^-^= Upon reflection, Rachel wanted to name this episode "How Heero Got His Groove Back," but I talked her out of it. (Just kidding. :P Ha ha.) Next episode should be due on June 23rd, but let's not put too much pressure on Rachel-sama, because she has exams coming up. =^o^= *waves Rachel flag* I owe people some emails, and I do humbly promise that you'll hear from me soon, ok? Baibai!


	85. Spiderwebs

**Disclaimer:** These characters are used and abused without permission. But they enjoy it. =^_~=

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Eighty-Five: Spiderwebs

_"Successful and fortunate crime is called virtue." ~Seneca, "Hercules Furens" _

June 23rd, 1903

Beginning one day after Byron signed the berserker order, a lone messenger carried the one-page document from point 'A' to point 'B' within an undisclosed location. At the destination point, the document was passed into the hands of two operatives, each of whom copied the message and passed it on to two more operatives each. These four also copied it, and sent it to another two people each, and so on down the line. Within hours, the Isle of Wight was saturated with the information, and the message pushed against the English Channel, bursting for release onto the mainland.

**********  
  


Hesitantly, a slender, manicured hand reached up and yanked once on the weathered iron ring attached to a chain beside the massive front doors. Some hollow, booming chimes sounded from somewhere inside the building, and the owner of the hand stepped back. Yasmeen stood next to her sisters on the front step of Sutherby Mansion, where they had been told to meet Relena if they wanted to take her up on her offer. Weeks of hot-headed deliberation had been expended on the subject, until they finally had to begrudgingly agree that it was the best thing they could do for the rest of their family. Perhaps it was the news that Nadia, their oldest sister and only mother figure, was unaccounted for that pushed them over the edge. Learning to combat large pockets of evil as a team was the only readily available way to help their loved ones.

The twins had to stay behind at the pub, owing to Catherine's new law about not all taking a sick day at the same time and leaving her in the lurch, but Hessa, Adeela, and Kamal were there on the doorstep, ready to give Yasmeen all the support she needed while being interviewed by their prospective second employer. While they were waiting for someone to come to the door, Hessa twitched and rubbed one bare arm with her opposite hand. "Are we doing the right thing?"

Yasmeen sighed nervously. "It's a little late for _that_, don't you think?" She fiddled with the sleeve of her uncomfortable English-style dress, a light peach concoction with a faint check pattern in pink and green. They were all wearing locally-made sundresses, trying not to draw attention to themselves by wearing their own clothes, and fidgeted as a group in the hot, stuffy layers of cotton and twill. Hessa had made some alterations to her spring green dress, widening the neckline and ripping off the sleeves, just so she could move without sweltering. On their way to Southampton, three different police officers wrote her a citation for indecent exposure, but the papers all just ended up in different dustbins along the route.

"Of course we're doing the right thing," said Kamal, sounding as if she was trying to convince herself most of all. "Besides...if Quatre had any objection to it, he would have said so by now...right?" She looked shiftily from one sibling to the next, and her gaze landed on Hessa. "You asked him if it was alright, didn't you?"

Hessa blinked, wide-eyed, and shrank away. "I thought...I thought it was best if it came from Yasmeen, since she's older..."

They both looked at Yasmeen, who blinked and retreated an inch the same way Hessa did. "Well...I didn't want it to sound like an order, so...I thought Adeela should ask him. He's a sucker for her smile, after all..."

The three of them looked at Adeela, who was busy twirling a lock of deep brown hair around her finger. She stopped and blinked in a similar fashion. "I was too frightened to ask! I mean, what if he'd said no? He would have had that awful disappointed look on his face, and you all know I _hate_ that look!" Adeela stared back at them, then thrust her arms down at her sides, pouting. "I told the twins to ask him!"

Yasmeen's head fell forward as she sighed from under her wide-brimmed straw hat. Neither Nashida nor Asalah had mentioned anything about talking to Quatre about their job offer from Relena, which means they had probably chickened out as well. "So...he has no idea where we are, or what we're doing," she concluded, glaring at her sisters. The other three hung their heads in shame.

There was no time to debate it further, because at that moment, the door was opened by an elderly man in a long-tailed coat and white gloves. He glanced politely at them from under his bushy grey eyebrows, standing very straight with his toes pointed out to the sides. "May I help you?" he asked genially.

The girls all quivered and looked at each other, until Yasmeen stepped forward. "We've come to see Miss Peacecraft."

The gray-haired man stepped aside and waved them all into the foyer. "Shall I announce you?"

Yasmeen thought about that as the four of them filed in and started ogling at the massively opulent foyer, lined from top to bottom with marble, gilding, red carpet up and down the stairs, and elegant statuettes of doves and cherubs in every niche. Their jaws all dropped in unison, and the elder sister was still staring up at the brand new fresco ceiling as she struggled for a response. "We...uh.....could you just tell her...that the young ladies from the pub are here? She'll know who we are..."

"Very good, Madam," said the elderly man, and he waved them a little further into the mansion. "If you would care to follow me to the lounge..."

The quartet followed the kind old gentleman some distance into the opulent edifice, their heads constantly swivelling around to take in the splendid sight. The exterior of the house appeared hundreds of years old, but the interior, or at least what they could see of it, looked brand new. The girls had gotten used to the fading Victorian styles, but all traces of it were being erased in favour of fresh, boldly coloured wallpaper, peacock motifs, stained glass, and sleek crown mouldings that blazed a totally new trail in home decorating. Dazzling hues of blue, green, and gold contrasted against the red plush carpet and the swirling gray marble floor, and when they got to the lounge, the finery didn't stop there. A small army of new furnishings, deep chestnut with forest green velvet padding, sat strewn about in the oval room, and many fascinating works of art hung on the curved walls, each one lit with its own tiny electric lamp. The old butler left the door to the lounge open while he went to fetch Miss Relena, and the girls spread out in all directions, cooing and gaping at their new surroundings.

"This is almost as nice as Father's winter palace!" Hessa breathed in awe. "I didn't know there were such lovely homes in England!"

"Imagine what we could earn working for _this_ family instead of Miss Catherine!" Kamal added with enthusiasm.

"This isn't about money," Yasmeen reminded them, gently but firmly, removing her straw hat. "We're here to help our family...in a roundabout sort of way, and I expect you all to focus on the goal at hand, understood?"

Eventually, they all nodded, but it was difficult to agree in their hearts. The pure luxury of the place enthralled them, so much that they lost some of their conscious awareness of what was beyond the door. Even Yasmeen failed to hear the faint, padded footsteps approaching from down the hall. Someone light with slippered feet was creeping closer, desperate to eavesdrop on the girls before meeting them formally. It was Relena, crossing the new creak-proof marble floor in her softest shoes, anxious to gain the upper hand before starting the negotiations. When Pegan delivered his message, she calmly instructed him to keep any stray workmen away from the lounge so she could talk to the girls in total privacy, but a little voice told her that she wasn't ready to do that until she was certain she had a tactical advantage. Getting that required a little shrewdness and a lot of luck, in case they revealed something to each other that they wouldn't ordinarily say to her. They were all dangerous to a degree, Relena had proof of that, so having something to hold over their heads would be a good piece of insurance to make certain they didn't turn on her after signing the deal.

Back in the lounge, Kamal flipped her dark hair over her shoulder and ran a hand admiringly along the curved back of a French style sofa. "But wouldn't it be nice to be taken on full-time and get to live _here_ instead? After everything we've been through, don't we deserve to live someplace that's as beautiful as home?"

"I certainly wouldn't mind having more room to spread out my plants," Hessa chimed in quietly. "My calendula have been trying to sprout in those tiny terracotta pots for weeks, and they just don't have enough room to grow!"

Yasmeen frowned and turned away, keeping close to the door with her arms folded and her hat dangling from one hand. Some hidden instinct was telling her that something was afoot not too far away, but most of its message was being drowned out by the whining of her siblings. Taking pity on her doleful expression, Adeela whisked over and rubbed both her arms, trying to cheer her up. "Don't look so worried! I'm sure once we explain ourselves to Quatre, he'll see that we did this with the best possible motives in mind."

Outside, Relena stopped breathing. _What did she say?? What was that!?_

"Either that, or he'll hit the roof," Hessa added in a concerned tone.

Kamal folded her arms over her badly tailored grey frock and pouted. "Why should we have to seek his approval anyway? He's our _younger_ brother. I could understand all the fuss if he was _older_..."

_...brother? ..._ Relena flattened herself against the outside wall. _It's not possible...he told me he had no living relatives...but.....how many Quatre's can there be?_

"He's the oldest man in our family now," Yasmeen declared. "If we were all back home, he would have more decision-making power than even Nadia's husband, because he only married _into_ the family."

"Surely you don't believe in all those ancient rules!" Adeela shot back, picking distastefully at her boring white dress.

"_Some_ of us still believe in tradition, if that's what you're implying," snorted the elder sister. "You shouldn't be so disrespectful of tradition. How do you think Father became so wealthy if not by following the path set out by his ancestors?"

Hessa joined the two and tried to pull Adeela away gently by the arm. "She's right, you know...would we have all those fine palaces and servants and treasure houses if he hadn't played by the rules? God found favour with him for the way he did business with his neighbours, and those 'ancient rules' are to be thanked."

"_We_ don't _have_ the family fortune anymore," Kamal snapped from the corner. "_We_ are reduced to living off of crumbs and doing odd jobs for peasants! Blasted, filthy contest..."

Relena was having quite a time piecing the bits together, but as near as she could figure, not only was Quatre lying about his family ties, but it also sounded as if he was quite potentially loaded. Palaces. Servants. Treasure houses. Roots that went back for hundreds of years, and millions of pounds in gold, perhaps. Come to think of it, she didn't know very much about him at all. The whole manner in which he showed up at the doorstep looking for work was dreadfully mysterious, but she was too young to think much of it at the time, and when her own father passed away...

"Now, we agreed, there's no point in complaining about it if we're not going to change it, and we're here to start changing everything," Yasmeen snapped curtly. "Anyway...I feel I have to make up the difference for _your_ behaviour."

Adeela's jaw dropped in offense, and she perched her hands on her hips tartly. "What about it?"

"Well, for a start, you _knew_ that Father didn't approve of your dancing! You _deliberately_ learned it just to punish him for trying to arrange a perfectly sound marriage for you!"

"Perfectly sound marriage!? To a shopkeeper with a limp!?"

When the conversation deteriorated into bickering, Relena slipped away, to the very back of the hall, and put her hard-soled shoes back on.

"He doesn't own _one_ shop, he owns a whole _village_ full of shops! He's already a millionaire!"

"You tell us that we're not here for the money, but in the back of your mind, that's the only important thing to you, isn't it!? I don't want to marry some ugly lump just because he has money!"

"You don't know how lucky you _are_, sometimes! If Father were here right now, he'd--" Yasmeen froze in mid-rant when she heard a set of sharp, clonking footfalls coming down the passageway. Unfortunately, it was the first noticeable sign to the girls that anyone except themselves and the butler were within walking distance. They all went silent, unaware that it was much too late, and primped a little in the seconds until the fair-haired lady of the house sauntered into the lounge.

Relena swept through the doorway, primed for deception. She smiled simply. "It's so good to see all of you again. May I take this to mean that you're seriously considering my offer?"

"We've actually come to get some further details on this...'offer'," Yasmeen opened, acting as spokeswoman for the group. "After discussing the matter at length, we have unanimously decided that we need some more information, to help us decide. I'm sure you understand that to blindly jump into something of this magnitude would be very foolish."

Unfazed, Relena kept right on smiling. "Of course. Sit down." She waved them to whatever luxurious furnishings upon which they wished to sit, but remained standing herself for a moment. "Tea?"

Yasmeen looked at the others, and saw glimpses of the affirmative on their faces. Tea cured everything. "Yes, thank you."

Relena went to the door and pulled the great golden rope hanging next to the sculpted wooden doorframe, to ring for Pegan, but no audible sound issued forth. In such a vast house, one never heard the bells one rang from time to time. "I completely understand your reservations...but I hope you _also_ understand that I can't give away everything I know until you're fully committed." She took a seat on a plush settee just opposite them, scattered on three different pieces of a matching suite, and folded her hands in her lap as she composed her speech one phrase at a time. "What I _can_ tell you is that I can provide a much more noble goal for you than hiring yourselves out as bounty hunters and such. You have some impressive talents, so I'm sure you'd find no shortage of employment in such a city of mystery as London...but I think I can do better for you all." Relena leaned forward, clasping her hands together and slouching over her knees in a very unladylike way, but it communicated the intensity of the topic at hand. "How would you like to be a tidal force of change in the great ocean of history?"

"Everyone wants to leave their mark on the world, in some way," said Yasmeen. "_How_ we do it is what history will remember us for."

Relena looked away for a moment, collecting her thoughts. "My brother has become aware of a.....a secret society...more powerful than all the law enforcement agencies of the world put together, and able to elude them all. They orchestrate events of mass destruction and chaos as a kind of competition, trying to one-up each other by causing more and more grief to the civilian population. They have a position available right this minute, and my brother wants to infiltrate them on behalf of an interested third party, but so many people are vying for that one empty chair that the entrance requirements are very high. He _must_ to be able to show his strength in order to be considered, but he has no private army, or anyone who will take orders from him without question." Straightening up again, she paused to let the full impact of her proposition soak in. "We lead very simple lives here...we don't want to be a bother to anybody, but at the same time, my brother and his anonymous director can't sit by and watch these criminals destroy the fabric of society."

At that time, beautifully timed, the elderly butler arrived with a substantial tray of silver, tea service for five with a few biscuits on the side. He poured out for each one of the girls, purposely not noticing their various expressions of fear, worry, and indecision, just as a good servant was meant to do. He left the tray on the coffee table between them and excused himself graciously, bringing an end to the sweet interlude of normalcy. While the others slowly sipped, Yasmeen stared down at her tea, but somehow couldn't get enthused about it. "To be allowed to join these men...your brother must actively participate in their illegal activities? And for that, he needs us?"

"He needs experienced fighters he can trust...people who can see past the immediate unpleasantness to a time when we can put these people out of business, once and for all." Relena finished her tea surprisingly fast, then got up and set her empty cup and saucer on the silver platter. "I won't ask you to decide right away. Please make my home yours while you think about it." She left as quickly as she had come, her clomping thick-heeled shoes fading away down the hall, until they were hushed completely.

The sisters all stared at each other. Their whole reason for the journey was to gain more insight into the Peacecraft family's dealings, and now, they wished they had just left it alone.

**********  
  


If the middle class had some research to do, they went to the library at which they had previously purchased a membership. If the lower class had some research to do, they tagged along with someone generous and easily swayed by sad puppy dog eyes, like Sally, and leeched off of her membership. That was how Heero's team came to be scattered throughout the non-fiction stacks and periodicals of one particular small-but-friendly library, scouring the base of modern knowledge for anything that could help them pester Cinq.

Sally left them to their own devices for awhile so she could browse the romantic fiction in secret. In the meantime, Heero was hard at work searching a tall pile of books for a subject he knew of but couldn't put a name to. He was at the middle of a long hazelnut reading table in the study area, thumbing through encyclopaedias, hoping to find the thing he could only vaguely describe in his mind. Trowa was a few paces down the same table, trying to expand his knowledge of English in his semi-literate way by looking at a book of maps. What little reading ability he had came from years of sneaking peeks at the captain's navigational charts while he was aboard ship. He was just plowing through a Biblical map of the Middle East, sounding out the place names as best he could under his breath, when Heero unexpectedly slammed a palm down onto the open book before him, making several strangers jump. "Got it!" he rasped.

After recovering his balance, Trowa got up and walked over, fending off evil glared from the other disturbed patrons. "That ought to be the last time you ever do that," he whispered.

Heero ignored him. "I found it."

"Found what?"

"I've been looking _ages_ for this," he answered, pointing down at the encyclopaedia article. It was marked in particular by a large grouping of dots and dashes, arranged in a table. "Morse Code. It's what they use to transmit telegrams and such. I've always known what it sounded like, but never what it was called or how it worked."

Trowa looked puzzled. "How can that help us?"

"Some of Jeffrhyss' agents use this or something quite like it to communicate amongst themselves. It was mostly used by the older, higher-ranking operatives during training exercises...no matter how much I learned, it was always wise of them to have an alternate form of communication that I was unable to interpret. If one of us learns this system, it could pay for itself a thousand times over."

"But if this is common knowledge, trying to send messages back and forth between us would be pointless."

"We don't _need_ to send our own messages for it to be worthwhile, we just have to intercept someone _else's_."

Slowly, it started to make sense, and Trowa nodded with his hands in his pockets. "Who did you have in mind to learn it?"

That, Heero hadn't gotten around to considering yet, having only just cornered his quarry in the 'M' encyclopaedia. He was already placing a great strain on his team, what with combat training, extended lessons in eavesdropping and lying in a believable manner, and even drills on memorizing the squeaky spots in any wooden floor in order to avoid stepping on them a second time, so the choice of who to foist this new task on was a difficult one. It also required someone with very strong skills of hearing, concentration, and rapid translation from sterile symbols to measurable linguistic concepts. It wasn't for the weak-minded.

Just then, as Heero was thickly mired in the decision-making process, a faint, familiar voice drifted to the table from clear across the room, and two pairs of footsteps accompanied it. At least twenty paces away, there was a staircase leading down to the ground floor, and a bobbing brunette head in a little flowered hat came into view. Hilde was marching steadily up the stairs, gazing straight ahead, and then all around as she got high enough over the second floor landing to see the stacks. She was muttering something, and was also followed by a little old lady with gray curls, shaky hands, and another little flowered hat, toddling on behind her in a dark gray dress and a lacy shawl. The old dear's wrinkled face was set on watching Hilde intently, for reasons that were not yet clear.

As Hilde passed the study table without saying hello to the boys, they at least got a chance to listen to her quiet mutterings. "...up the stairs, to the left, third from the end, 590 J13.....up the stairs, to the left, third from the end, 590 J13.....up the stairs..." She made a sharp turn at the table, heading for the bookshelves at the far end of the second floor, with the little old lady hot on her heels. She kept on muttering, taking directions off as they were followed, until she got to the shelves and skimmed an eye over the spines of all the books, finally reaching up to grab the one matching the number in her head. She smiled and handed it over to the elderly woman. "Here you go!"

The old dear smiled broadly and took the thick volume, a dissertation on birds of Great Britain and Ireland, and cradled it lovingly. "Oh, _thank_ you, _ever_ so much," she said in a most proper English. "The gentlemen at the desk always give me the same directions, but I can never remember them, and my hands are too shaky to write them down. I really cannot thank you enough."

"It was no trouble," Hilde chirped pleasantly, pointing to the side of her head with a sneaky squint. "I've got a mind like a steel trap, I have."

As the women said their goodbyes and parted company, Heero and Trowa smirked at each other. Heero then got up and sauntered over to the bookshelf where the girl was still busy feeling proud of herself for doing her good deed for the day. "That was very impressive," he commented. "Did Duo teach you to read numbers?"

"Oh, no, I've known how to do that for _years_," Hilde replied. "Doesn't get much use, though, not while I'm dusting and sweeping. I had to know my coins a little bit when I used to sell flowers in the train stations, to keep from short-changing myself."

Thinking rapidly, Heero took Hilde's hand and led her back to the study table, putting her in his chair right in front of the encyclopaedia. "What about this?" he asked, pointing down at the page where the letters 'A' through 'Z' were listed opposite their respective dots and dashes. "Do you know your alphabet?"

"Actually...I know it better in German..." Upon looking up and seeing the bewildered look on Heero's face, she laughed and explained. "My cousin Gudrun lives on a farm in Niedersachsen. Whenever I was really down on my luck, I used to get a friend with a fishing boat to smuggle me across the channel, and then I'd hitchhike the rest of the way and spend a few weeks with her family. Gudrun taught me all my letters and numbers so I'd have an edge over the other street girls. She offered to let me live there permanently, but I'd've missed the city too much..."

Heero scratched his head, wondering if his idea would work after all. "Um..."

"No, really! Allow me to demonstrate..." With a flourish, Hilde stuck a finger underneath the first letter, and dragged it down, reciting the name of each one in her semi-native Deutsche. Heero glanced dubiously up at Trowa, who folded his arms and grinned, trying not to laugh. "...'_ess, tay, ooh, fow, vay, icks, oepsilon, tset_'," she finished, quite proud of herself. "Of course, that's not counting umlauts, but I don't see any here, anyway..."

"...can you _read_ German?"

She shook her head. "Oh, no, I just know my letters and numbers, that's all."

Inside, Heero chuckled a bit. It would probably be enough. "Do you think you could memorize these codes and associate them with their respective letters without looking at the book?" he asked, pointing down to the grouping of dots and dashes again.

Hilde looked it all over carefully, then nodded with a shrug. "I don't see why not..." She pored over the page as Heero pulled up a second chair to go over it with her, and copy it out into his little notebook, which was dangerously close to being full. All was quiet for awhile, and in the lull, Heero looked out across the central column of staircases leading both up and down, and saw Wufei, who hadn't moved since he got there. The sullen lad was peering out a window at the street below, and resisted all attempts to involve him in the search for new tactics. He used the excuse that he could think better when left alone, but Heero wasn't fooled. He was beginning to notice that something wasn't quite right with the boy, a theory that decried his apparent enthusiasm for having a fresh set of goals to reach for. Perhaps it was all an act, but at the moment, Heero couldn't prove anything, and had to settle for a dim hope that he wouldn't do anything to jeopardize their new mission.

Minutes later, even in the commonly agreed-upon silence that was supposed to be upheld in the library, a ruckus developed in the periodicals section. Off in the distance, in a veritable forest of newsprint, Duo and Quatre were having a wordless argument, shaking newspapers at each other and making very curious gestures. Duo finally pointed across the room at Heero as if to say, 'Alright, wise guy, let him decide!', and they both took off like a shot toward the table.

Heero saw them coming and gave them a pre-accusatory glare that said they had better not disturb the peace. The boys behaved themselves, but only just. Duo was the first to whisper out his harsh message, opening his newspaper to the appropriate page and holding it up as a placard for his cause. "Wouldn't you rather have a sure thing than a vague possibility that might never happen anyway!?"

"No, he wouldn't!" Quatre counter-whispered, displaying his own paper in a similar fashion. "He'd rather be on the cutting edge of technology! Anybody can see that!"

Heero shook his head in bewilderment, then looked more carefully at the items they held. Each had an article and an accompanying photograph, one of some automobiles, and one of a flying machine that, according to the banner line, 'almost' flew. They were both in American newspapers, and both went back several months; they must have taken a great deal of effort to find, so he wanted to give each item equal consideration, if he could only figure out what he was supposed to be considering. "What am I looking at?"

"Okay," Quatre began sharply. "Besides all being persons of relatively low importance and being easy to miss from the common bystander's point of view, we need a concrete advantage over Cinq, and Jeffrhyss in particular. We need something he doesn't have, but wants very badly, and who wouldn't want their very own flying machine?" He held up his newspaper a little higher to give Heero a better view of the main attraction, a piece about a pair of brothers by the name of Wright who, while still unsuccessful, had come closer than anyone to mastering the science of flight. Their latest craft, a glider with no engine, was pictured with a brother on either side, and the writer went on to say, among other things, that they were at least making the best attempts known to man.

Duo scoffed before Heero even finished skimming the article. "Nah, scrap that, they could be _years_ away from finding a model that works. _This_ is something that works _right now_!" He shoved his own find in front of Quatre's. There was a horseless carriage in this picture, a ramshackle-looking jalopy surrounded by men in long duster coats, two of whom were holding up a kind of crystal punch bowl as some sort of trophy. The automobile, owned and driven to victory by a fellow named Ford, had apparently won a race against another vehicle with three times the power, relying on superior design to carry it through to the end. Duo slapped the photo proudly with the back of his hand. "Two cylinders, lightweight frame, and more than five hundred cubic inches pumping out 26 horsepower with porcelain-insulated sparking coils, unofficially clocked at over _seventy_ miles per hour! This thing could outrun Winifred!"

Heero's face became very drawn-out, particularly his eyes. "...Winifred?"

"Giorgenson's motorcar," said a strawberry blonde as she returned from scouting another section of the library for entertaining reads. Sally tapped Heero on the shoulder as she walked behind him, picking the conversation right up as she rejoined the group. "It's his baby."

Seeing the glare of disbelief on Heero's face, Duo decided to drop that part of the presentation and move on. "Never mind the name, it doesn't matter. We can name ours something better, or not name it at all. Point is, we _need_ one of these."

"No we don't," Quatre said haughtily. "It's just a toy that will break the first time it sees a rocky hill. How are you going to drive it places where there aren't any roads? We need one of _these_!"

"But how long are you prepared to wait until _that_ thing gets off the ground!? We could have a motorcar _now_, and soup it up just like Winifred! We could break the land speed record! And the first time we take it out on a mission, we'll have the getaway vehicle every bank robber _dreams_ of!"

"How many other horseless carriage producers are there in the world? The one in that picture could be obsolete tomorrow, for all you know, and then you'll be chasing after the next model, and the next model, while a flying machine will stay at a consistent level of performance no matter how old it gets! It's a matter of physics and economics!"

"Aw, baloney!"

"That's enough," Heero demanded at half volume and triple intensity. People were starting to stare. "Aside from being out of our price range and on the wrong continent, they're both very good ideas...I just don't know whether either one is feasible for us right now."

"Maybe we should vote on it?" Hilde suggested.

"I'll bet it's a tie, right down the middle," Trowa snarked, nodding his head in the direction of the windows, where Wufei was still staring, oblivious. "Unless someone drags _him_ back from fairyland..."

Nobody made a move towards Wufei. Sally sighed heavily. "Alright, my turn...but you all owe me." She huffed and stalked away, intent on dragging the boy back by the ponytail if necessary, so they could have a proper vote on the matter.

While there was a lull in the action, Hilde got up, grabbed Duo by the braid, and yanked him over to a secluded area between the ancient history and sociology stacks. She grinned at him expectantly. "So?"

Duo rubbed the sore spot along the hairline at the back of his neck and shrugged. "So?"

"So...don't you have anything you wanna tell me today?"

"Like what?"

She elbowed him sharply and looked out at the study table. Heero was listening to Quatre's argument, nodding occasionally. "Like how you two are getting along?"

Duo shook his head, grinning back. "Ohhh, no, you've gotten all you're gonna get out of me for awhile."

"But why!? You know I won't tell! C'mon...just gimmie a little tidbit to tide me over! He wasn't really mad at you just then, was he?"

"Nooo, he just..." Wondering exactly which shade of red he was turning, Duo stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels once or twice. "Alright, don't breathe a word to anyone, but...as soon as he finds some steady work, we're going to look for an apartment somewhere."

Hilde's jaw dropped. Even though the publicity had dropped off quickly, it seemed a little soon after his gross indecency trial to be taking up joint residence with another young man in full view of the public. "You can _do_ that?"

"Friends share living space all the time in this city, it's the only way some of them can afford to live. Nobody's gonna suspect anything if we're careful, and mess both bedrooms up equally..."

They chuckled in unison, then noticed that Sally had been successful in persuading Wufei to rejoin the group, if only for a few minutes. Hilde sighed. "...oh, rats...it's back to work, isn't it?"

"Looks like."

"Can I visit you guys in your new place?"

"_Visit_?" Duo crowed with confidence. "I'm counting on you to decorate!" They laughed again, heading back to the study table, where the assembly waited patiently. There was some chatter about automobiles and flying machines, and while everyone seemed occupied, Duo looked up from the tabletop and met Heero's eyes silently. No one but Hilde noticed them staring at each other. As a hazy cloud enveloped them, blotting out their surroundings, Heero reached up with one hand and grasped the inner edge of his jacket lapel, stroking it luxuriantly, running his thumb up and down the taut black fabric as if it were velvet. Seeing the gesture, Duo answered by catching the end of his braid and entangling his fingers among the chocolate strands poking out from the black scrap of cloth he tied it with, also in a gentle, soothing stroking motion. These tiny, benign actions, while completely innocuous to everyone else, crushed a whirlwind of affection into secret little signals that could be passed across a room as easily as a paper dart without arousing any suspicion whatsoever. They had good reason not to be afraid of the law, for they had sat down together for hours at a stretch, hammering out a plan to keep their coupling a profound mystery, while still reassuring each other whenever and wherever they liked. It was the best of both worlds, in a strange way.

Grounding himself once again, Heero put his hands back on the table where they belonged, called his team to order, and started doling out instructions. The switch was so easily made that he barely had to think about it. "Now, we've had it suggested that we could make decent use of some regular transportation, something reliable that doesn't require a lot of upkeep, like horses. These are the options we're looking into, and I'm going to hand out research assignments to you all to help the group determine whether either one of these is viable..."

**********  
  


For someone who kept getting violent shocks to the brain every few weeks, Relena was taking things remarkably well. After everything else she had been through, the idea that Quatre might be a prince disguised as a pauper, heir apparent to one of the most desirable fortunes in the known world, didn't seem that outlandish. It was just another unexpected turn, even though she wasn't one hundred percent convinced that it was true. If it wasn't, the boy's name was more common than she realized. If it was...it put a lot of things into perspective, not the least of which was the surprise kiss he unleashed on her back at the manor.

She thought about it while she roamed the halls on the opposite side of the mansion from where she left the sisters deliberating. Perhaps Quatre had always had a little flame burning for her, and if he was more than a simple hired hand, perhaps that wasn't such a bad thing. Perhaps even a tenth of his net worth would be enough to propel her brother's cause a significant distance; the Cinq selection committee would look at their revised financial bottom line and faint dead away. Perhaps if Quatre _did_ inherit such wealth someday, he might be inclined to share it with someone very close to him, like a potential wife, if it was for the greater good. Perhaps, she even thought at the very depths of her depraved sense of duty towards the safety of the world, it wouldn't be such a terrible thing to marry him, funnel the money into their Cinq operations, and become more powerful than the other four members put together. Perhaps it would work.

Marcus was a problem. He was such a sweet boy, well-intentioned and with a marvellous pedigree, but perhaps he would understand. Relena was beginning to see why so many kings and queens in history had official mates as well as mistresses and secret lovers on the side.

She stopped walking and scrunched up her eyes. _...what am I thinking? It may not even be the same person, and if it is, it's a lot to gamble on the strength of just one kiss..._ Every time a piece was added to the puzzle, the picture became more difficult to discern. Confusion was her closest friend.

It was a mercy that she didn't consider any of these points out loud, for as she continued walking a few paces, she saw a slight figure in white with flowing dark hair down the hall, and believed it to be the youngest of her four guests. She was wandering around with her head down, wanting to scuff her feet against the floor but restraining herself out of respect for the fine marble. Smiling almost maternally, Relena walked up to her as she studied the bronze bust of some famous figure of music on a Greek pedestal, disinterestedly. "Bored?"

Adeela sighed and looked up at the blonde girl, who stood a full half-head taller than she. "I'm the second-youngest of the whole family, and they want me to grow up right away. They just can't see how boring they all get when they're acting like adults."

"I understand," said Relena, smiling wider out of sympathy. "When my father died, people expected me to be a proper lady right away, 'stiff upper lip' and all that other stupid, meaningless advice. It didn't help, though."

"You lost your father too?" the brunette sighed. She shook her head guiltily, thinking back to the days when their clan was reasonably happy and peaceful. "...I constantly did things to make him angry on purpose, but I never hated him. He probably died thinking I did, and now it's too late to fix it."

Now, while the girl was emotionally vulnerable, intellectually susceptible, and just plain out of it, now was the time for deception. "Do you know who was the biggest comfort to me after Father passed away?" Relena asked, sweetly and rhetorically. "Quatre."

Adeela's eyes lit up with wonder. "You know him?"

"...he was at my side constantly. I don't know how I would have gotten through it without him. He genuinely cares about people and only wants what's best for them." The next part of the lie was crucial. Relena focused every minute scrap of her energy on putting the right face on it, proof that she had learned from her experiences with Heero, after all. "That's why when I told him about the opportunity I was about to offer you girls, he thought it was an excellent idea."

"He already knows!?" the brunette gasped.

"Yes, but he didn't want me to tell you he approves, because he thinks you ought to learn to make decisions without him."

"...of course...that makes so much sense!" Adeela placed her hands over her heart, closed her eyes, and smiled. "He _is_ a kind soul, isn't he?"

"Yes, he is," said Relena, putting an arm around the girl's shoulders and walking her slowly back towards the lounge. "He's so warm-hearted that sometimes I think he desperately wants to talk about his troubles, but can't bring himself to, because it must seem selfish to him." Still composing lies on the fly, her auditory memory shot back to one of the other sisters complaining about some impediment to accessing what was rightfully theirs...some sort of contest. "Like this contest involving your family fortune...he's greatly troubled by it, and I don't know what I can do to help him."

"I know, it's awful, isn't it? Our family used to be enormous, but now so many of them have died trying to win the tontine...there are hardly any of us left, now."

_A tontine...I know I've heard that word before...I'll have to look it up first chance I get._ Relena clucked her tongue in false dismay. "It's so sad...I can't imagine any family breaking up over something as cold as money. It seems very petty."

"To a rich Englishwoman like you, I suppose it must!" Adeela exclaimed, making another sweeping glance of the gloriously beautiful hallway. "It's only a few hundred million pounds' worth, after all...but there were problems in our family long before this started. Then it turned into an excuse for them to..."

To a very slight degree, Relena's eyes bulged. _'Only a few hundred million,' she says. That's more than I ever could have imagined..._ "There, there...I'm sure it'll all be resolved in the fullness of time."

Adeela reached up and gave the hand on her shoulder a sisterly squeeze. "Oh...I know it will...it's just the awful waiting and wondering in the meantime."

"Well...there's always something to keep busy with, if you decide to accept my proposition."

"...as long as Quatre says it's alright."

Adeela's tone was changing, as if Quatre's approval was making her warm up to the idea. Relena quietly congratulated herself on her first successful attempt at pumping someone for information. She grinned a bit, and lowered her voice as they finally reached the lounge door. "Yes, but he wouldn't want the others to know, so keep it to yourself, alright?" As Adeela nodded, she pushed open the double doors and brought her inside. The other three siblings were chattering in Arabic, and quieted themselves to welcome their fourth back to the fold. Relena didn't give them much time for a reunion, however. Time was most definitely money. "Ladies! .....have you reached a verdict?"

Right on schedule with the plan in Relena's head, Adeela waved her sisters closer and whispered something to them, something not too specific but still reassuring enough to push them over the edge. After a final round of hushed exchanges, they stood up straight, and Yasmeen took a step forward to deliver their decision. "We will fight for you."

Relena puffed up with pride. "I'm glad to hear it." _I've done it! And after all of Milliardo's self-righteous speeches about how difficult it would be to convince anyone to be a party to his plan! I went ahead on my own and I did it!_ "It's a pity my brother isn't here at the moment, but I can't wait for you to meet him. No doubt we'll all have plenty to talk about in the days ahead..."

**********  
  


The one-page document that had caused such a stir on the Isle of Wight, though only among a very small and knowledgable portion of the populous, crossed the Channel into the southlands, and quickly spread. Everyone who received it passed it on to another two people, and it replicated itself exponentially. The odd thing was that although the order came from within Lord Jeffrhyss' sphere of influence, it had been decided that the subject was too important to keep to themselves, and so the document was shared with other organizations, three in total. It had begun to spread to other factions of Cinq before the sun set on the twenty-third day in June, but only among the higher-ups. Agents from all over England would soon be looking for someone, and looking to cop the five thousand pound bounty that had been placed on his head.

The clock was ticking...

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Eighty-Six: Relena introduces her new friends to Milliardo, who already has a task in mind with which they might prove their loyalty. Heero and Duo's first attempt at flat-hunting hits an unexpected bump, and Treize feels as though he's being watched, and for good reason._

It's HOT here! Summer has finally arrived, and we couldn't be happier! =^_^= We're narrowing down the potential new hosting possibilities, because we desperately need to get rid of these pesky ads, don't you agree? =P Oh well..in the meantime, next eppy should be out on July 4th. Sure! Why not! =D


	86. Daystalkers

**Disclaimer:** These characters are used and abused without permission. But they enjoy it. =^_~=

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Eighty-Six: Daystalkers

_"The personal life of every individual is based on secrecy, and perhaps it is partly for that reason that civilised man is so nervously anxious that personal privacy should be respected." ~Anton Chekhov, "The Lady with the Dog" _

July 4th, 1903

Just when it seemed like the premier quality employment agency would _never_ get Harvey Young off its books, they found him a vacant situation to fill, as a proofreader at a small local newspaper. His fastidious attention to detail and pin-point accuracy made him particularly suited to the job, which pleased his employer, the editor, but Mr. Young was just happy to be earning a regular wage again. Being able to keep an eye on the news before it even went to print would have been a bonus as well, if what passed for 'news' at this paper wasn't dog shows, bathing beauty contests, and the occasional jumble sale.

After less than a week on the job, Mr. Young was working just as hard as he had been when he started. He had a nice little desk, a high-backed clerk's stool with no lumbar support, and a darling little window through which he could gaze admiringly at the brick wall across the alley. The stack of news items and advertisements that wanted checking over for proper punctuation and typographical errors was waiting for him, faithfully, every morning at eight, and he had until six in the evening to sift through it all, though the pile sometimes seemed to grow rather than shrink. Mr. Young shared a large room with other clerks at other desks performing other vital tasks, but in the first few days of his employment, he had failed to socialize with any of them. It was long, lonely toil that, apart from the money, did nothing for the worker except strengthen his English skills.

Then, when it was just approaching one o'clock that day, there came a light rapping at his window, so delicate and secretive that no one but Mr. Young could hear it. He lowered his quill a bit, lifted his head, and saw a cheery, smiling face under a tweed cap. A hand belonging to the cheery face reached up and jerked a thumb in the opposite direction from the window, anxious to get going.

Mr. Young looked up at the clock on the wall, then pointed to an imaginary watch on his wrist and held up seven fingers. The cheery face seemed happy with this, nodded, and disappeared from the window, while Mr. Young got back to his work. As he dipped his quill into the ink, however, it dawned on him that his window was on the second floor. He paused to think, and eventually smirked._...baka._ He kept forgetting that the boy was an acrobat who specialized in alleyways.

Seven minutes later, Heero and the other clerks were let out of their cages for lunch. Duo was waiting by the front door, and slapped his friend in the shoulder as soon as he appeared. "You lecture us on getting out of the house whenever you need us, and yet _you_ can't go to lunch a few minutes early to see _me_?" he scolded teasingly. "There's no justice!"

"Want to trade places?"

"...........no." They chuckled, walking away from the newspaper building, and Duo leapt into the leadership role as Heero looked to him for direction. "You're gonna love the place I found! It's not that far away, and there's a nice park in between so you can stop and feed the ducks after work!"

Heero smirked a second time and hid both hands in the pockets of his older, more tattered suit. In certain workplaces, it didn't pay to be better dressed than the boss. "I think the ducks will do just fine without my help."

"I wouldn't insult ducks, if I were you...they can gang up on a person and start pecking them all over. It can happen." Duo looked expectantly at Heero, waiting for some hint of belief in what he was saying. He didn't get one. "Okay, bang goes my idea of having an army of angry ducks at my command...would've scared Jeffrhyss to pieces, I tell ya. But never mind...c'mon!" Tugging on Heero's sleeve, Duo dragged his rolling-eyed charge out of the business district and into a lush park, the promised land of all his daydreams. Everything around them was a most glorious summer green, from the thick carpet of grass, to shrubs and tall reeds reaching up through ponds and marshes, to the towering treetops that carefully selected which of the sun's golden rays should be allowed through the canopy. The good people of the surrounding Camden neighbourhoods were out in full force, strolling through the little patch of urban forest in cream-coloured suits and lace dresses during their collective lunch break, and a chorus of well-fed sparrows and starlings serenaded them, a song only sparsely punctuated by the cry of a baby in a pram, or the yip of a gentleman's dog. A prettier slice of heaven could not have been found anywhere.

While the boys walked, Duo regaled Heero with a complete run-down of amenities at the flat he had discovered the previous day. Now that they were both earning again, they reasoned they might just be able to afford the change in accomodations, but the first sincere dialogue about money that they had shared in several weeks was cut short when Duo spotted something far more interesting. The strains of a brass band were wafting towards them on the breeze, and Duo just couldn't stand still. He took off running, and Heero had a surprisingly hard time catching up to him.

"Look at _that!_" Duo crowed, skidding to a halt. In a clearing, there was a great wooden gazebo with white filigree trim, and on its platform was a twenty-piece band wearing closely cropped beards and red uniforms with shiny brass buttons. Some leisure-seekers were seated before the edifice on two sets of cast iron benches, gentlemen with walking sticks and ladies with very grand hats. The band was just finishing up a sprightly brass arrangement of "The Ivy Green," and their very presence left Duo surprised and entranced, today of all days. "Those guys weren't here a little while ago! They must've just set up for the lunch crowd..."

"We don't have much time to sit and listen," Heero warned apologetically.

"Yeah, just hang on a minute..." Duo was already fishing through his pockets for coinage, ignoring Heero's logic. He started walking briskly toward the gazebo, then turned around, walking carefully backwards as he threw Heero a question. "Hey, does Japan have any kind of 'Hooray for us' day once a year?"

Heero blinked and shrugged. "I don't know."

"You should find out!" Duo ordered with a one-handed point. Then he jogged up to the band just as they finished their current piece, waving to the director and shouting, "Do you take requests!?"

Heero squinted and shook his head, mostly at the way the boy could run and jump in that flimsy tweed cap and jacket without dislodging the braid tucked in behind for safe keeping. After exchanging a few words with the genial conductor and palming him a modest tip, Duo stood back a few paces to enjoy the fruits of his labour as the band lifted their instruments and broke into a lively rendition of "The Stars and Stripes Forever." Duo swayed and bounced in place to the beat of the march, almost dancing. Even thousands of miles away, he still found low-cost ways to celebrate his homeland.

Everything was going splendidly, and Heero thought to himself that they really had plenty of time to see the flat without chopping short one of Duo's happier moments, until his eyes began wandering all around the park and beyond. Heero's keen vision was still programmed to skim over and ignore civillians in order to focus on credible tactical threats, and he hadn't seen any for several months, until that very moment. An agent was on the far side of the park, moving slowly and suspiciously about as if scanning the landscape for possible targets. Heero's pulse quickened. It had been a long time since field training, but he had a good memory for faces, and the drab-looking fellow was definitely one of Jeffrhyss' men. His appearance was odd, though, because as far as Heero knew, this man didn't stray out into the open much anymore. His rank had advanced enough that he no longer needed to do his own footwork...so what was he doing in a public park?

Many possibilities swirled around Heero's mind, the first and foremost of which was that there was some sort of operation afoot that presented the perfect opportunity for sabotage, but that was soon shattered. A _second_ agent joined the first one, and the pair of them stood together, looking out of place only to Heero's eyes, in their standard-issue dime-store suits and ratty bowler hats. They spoke to each other while subtley pointing in various directions from one end of the park to the other. Neither of these men would dare expose themselves to public view unless there was something terribly important hidden in the park. Something...or some_one_.

Heero felt a twisting sensation in his gut, the instinct for self-preservation's way of telling him that he was no longer safe, especially since he was unarmed that day. Suddenly concerned for Duo, he snapped his head around to the gazebo and found him conversing with a middle-aged couple in the front row. They were all chatting happily about something, but they were too far away to hear. Heero looked back at the two agents, and they were walking his way. They didn't appear to have seen him yet, but their path would take them too close not to notice him, if he was even the target. Heero couldn't be sure, and wasn't going to waste precious seconds carrying on a mental debate about it.

As calmly as he could, which was downright icy, he strolled up to the cast iron benches and ran a quick eye over the audience before sitting down gingerly next to a fifty-ish banker type with graying sideburns, a pinstriped suit, and a monocle over his left eye. He was asleep, having sat down to read his newspaper and not gotten past page one. His head was bent minutely forward underneath his executive black Homburg, and his hands were folded neatly in his lap; he seemed to defy gravity as he sat more or less straight up while snoring softly.

From where he was on the bench, Heero could just peer out from behind the sleeping man's head, and saw the agents striding steadily nearer, heads swivelling in all directions. While they were looking elsewhere, Heero reached up, carefully lifted the sleeping man's Homburg hat, and plopped it down on his own head, then took the newspaper that sat folded up between them and opened it, burying his face in the inky leaves. All the while he kept one eye on Duo, who was somewhat less recognizable with his hair tucked down inside his jacket; there was little concrete evidence to suggest that Jeffrhyss' men might be tailing the chef, but if either one of them made even the tiniest threatening move towards his mouse, their next several meals would be consumed through a straw during their convalescence.

Silently, the agents walked past. They glanced in the direction of the gazebo, but couldn't find what they were looking for. No more than twenty paces separated them from the back of Heero's head, but he was essentially invisible to them. Once they were safely gone, Heero put back the hat and the newspaper, all without waking their owner, and walked down the aisle between the benches just as Duo was walking back up.

"A couple from Louisiana," Duo explained with a smile, pointing a thumb behind him, where the middle-aged pair were sitting back down to enjoy the final strains of the song. "Real nice, too! Told me about this shop that imports hand-ground cayenne pepper from--"

"Yes, alright," Heero said impatiently, pulling him away by the arm. "Are we going to see this place, or what?"

Unable to sense any tension in his friend, Duo laughed off his urgency. "Of course we are! And wait'll you see the view out the front window!"

They continued on in their original direction, while the band moved on to the next number in their repertoire. Heero believed he hid any residual concern very well, but couldn't help looking over his shoulder at the rapidly departing agents every few yards until they were out of the park. In a way, Heero almost wished there _had_ been a confrontation, because that way he would have at least known that they were after him all along. This way, he could only worry silently about their purpose.

**********  
  


Something about Wufei was not quite right lately. Few people noticed due to the extreme difficulty involved in getting to know him, but among those perceptive enough to tell the difference, one person was very worried.

Even after he pushed her away, often making her feel as unwelcome as she possibly could, Hilde kept hanging around him, searching for clues to which his sullen mood might relate. She noticed, on those occasions when she could escape her household duties, that he was eating less than normal, staring into space more than normal, and barely spoke to anyone. It hadn't been very long after she first tried to befriend him that he confided in her about his desire to see Treize suffer, no matter what the cost was to their little group, and since then, he had gone severely downhill.

Hilde went out of her way to visit him at the pub that morning, and found him standing at a front window, staring out at the street and unwilling to move. He picked the most remote window in the entire establishment, it seemed, and the rest of the clientele had learned to keep well out of his way. Against all of Catherine's advice, the housemaid felt obligated as a friend to try and break through his wall of silence, and appeared at his side during the middle of the lunch rush with a tray, bearing two lunches that she hoped they could share together. "Wouldn't you feel better if you ate something?" she asked in a soft but trembling voice. There was no response. ".....c'mon, you've been at that window all morning. What could possibly be so interesting?"

Again, no reply. Wufei continued to stare out into the street, standing ramrod straight with his arms folded, as if hell-bent on ignoring the girl. Eventually she gave up, setting the tray down on the table next to him and weaving through the sea of dining patrons to the door, throwing one last glance and a heavy sigh in the boy's direction before heading back home.

In reality, Wufei was so far gone that he didn't even notice her presence. The trance was already too deep, and he couldn't pull himself out of it even if he wanted to. While anyone else looking out that same window would have seen a simple scene of street life in Peckham, he saw the past, scrolling before him like a burnished sepia tone newsreel. In the depths of his psychotic episode, he saw an environment that was a blend of his native China and the San Francisco he knew before spiralling down into a life of petty crime. Through that window, he saw people walking about whom he knew were long dead, and some of them even slowed their pace to gaze back at him, accusingly, saying with their hollowed eyes and drawn faces, 'How could you let us die?'

Wufei twitched almost imperceptibly as the phantoms passed, accompanied by the ambient clinking of cutlery and dishes behind him, and as usual, his hallucination built up to a dizzying climax when a glowing figure in white strode out into the dust covered street that only he could see. It was a girl, dark-haired, with narrow eyes framed by long eyelashes. She hardly looked twelve years old, but contained the wisdom of all her ancestors condensed into one hurt gaze, which she slowly directed at the window. It wasn't the first time Wufei had seen the ghost, though the girl was becoming clearer, brighter, and better defined each time she appeared, accusing him at the same time as she charged him with his most important task, avenging her death. Behind the glass, his eyes widened. It was nearly time, she said, and there was much to do. Unseen by the oblivious pub patrons, Wufei nodded, slowly and faintly, and then he moved away from the window. As he made his way back up to his room to prepare, the ochre haze of the dreamworld outside gradually faded, blending his psychosis back into his personal reality without any outward signs that he was losing his grip, proof that the mentally unstable quite often looked just like everybody else.

**********  
  


Milliardo needed a personal army, that much was certain. It was the only solid fact he had, the only scrap of a plan available to him, and he clung to it even when it didn't lead him anywhere. For many days he had searched for that elusive army, in the seedy underground that stretched from one coastline to the other, at the docks and in the hidden bars populated only by thieves and cutthroats. He was highly unlikely to find persons with the necessary skills among the law-abiding, but sadly, the ones who were the most qualified were also the least trustworthy. As soon as he left Sutherby House, he was fated to return empty-handed, and he did.

He dragged himself up the front steps with a single suitcase and a terrible frown, looking more than a little disheveled in one of his father's old brown suits, and felt an utter failure. Still, it was nice to come home to an open door, a cup of tea, and a friendly face. Pegan was prepared to deliver all three, and gave his master the usual hero's welcome as a matter of protocol. "Pleasant journey, sir?"

"It rained slightly less than half the time, so I suppose so," Milliardo groaned with a hint of sarcasm.

Pegan took his suitcase and closed the door. "Miss Relena is waiting for you in the lounge."

Milliardo barely heard him, wrapped up in his own troubles and fiddling with one of his cufflinks. "Oh, yes?" he muttered.

"With some friends," the butler added. "She is _most_ anxious to have you meet them."

There was no curiosity about his sister's new friends, only a slightly miffed concern at how she could have made new friends at all given the current state of her responsibilities. Something else worried him more, and he cleared his throat to stop Pegan from disappearing down the hall. "Miss Noin?"

Pegan paused and turned slowly, his features slipping downward. "I'm afraid she hasn't been out of her room since you left."

Milliardo's face fell also, and he stalked away from the servant, frowning once again. _...acting like a child...thinks she can get at me by punishing herself...see if I care..._ The last thing he had the energy for was trying to resuscitate his failing romance, but the only other port in which he could hide from his problems was in the lounge, meeting Relena's simpering little chums. Ordinarily, he wouldn't have, but he was desperate.

He could hear a pack of girls chattering away long before he reached the lounge doorway, but they weren't at all what he expected when he walked in. Relena was playing hostess to four brunettes, all of whom seemed to be anywhere from five to ten years older than she, and they also appeared to be foreign. All five of them looked up when he entered, and the chatter ceased. Relena set her cup of tea down and stood, smiling. "Right on time," she praised. "No one will ever be able to fault you for a lack of punctuality."

She stepped forward and rose up on tiptoe to kiss her brother on the cheek, but he was more intrigued with the strange assortment of girls in cornflower blue dresses, like one would find on waitresses in a restaurant. He eyed each one carefully and noticed that two of the four were identical twins, but it didn't explain much. "And who are your charming companions?"

As Relena stepped back, the oldest of the guests stood up, crowned by a flowing mantle of shiny dark hair so much like the others' that they were almost certainly related. "My name is Yasmeen Winner," she said, "and these are my sisters, Kamal, Nashida, and Asalah. There are two others besides us, but regrettably we couldn't all be here to meet you at the same time. Nevertheless, this is indeed an honour, after everything Miss Relena has told us about you."

The kind introduction blew right past Milliardo as he squinted at his sibling. "Nothing but good things, I hope..." With that, Relena squirmed.

Yasmeen swallowed, unable to hold it back. "She informed us of your...current needs, with regard to..." She had a well-rehearsed speech when she walked into the house, and it had suddenly split into hundreds of tiny pieces and gone scurrying away like ants running for cover under pebbles. The most obvious explanation that Yasmeen hadn't clicked into yet was that she hadn't expected Relena's brother, the haggard war hero, to be so tall, broad, and gloriously handsome. It might have short-circuited her brain briefly, but she recovered in the fullness of time. "You need someone to fight alongside you. Our family has agreed to help in whatever way we can. We may not seem like anyone's first choice, but you can trust us, we all swear it. There are secret skills that have been passed down to us that would be invaluable in your struggle, I promise you that. Whenever you need us, we are at your command."

Well after the end of the speech, Milliardo was still looking from face to face, wondering if they could all possibly be serious, or if this was all some sort of bizarre test to see if he still had a sense of humour after all this time. He put an arm around his sister and bent down close to her ear. "Could I speak to you for a moment? Outside?" As the girl blinked up at him, he placated the brunettes with a fake smile as he steered her towards the door. "Excuse us..."

Relena didn't like being led out into the hall by the arm, but it was better than being pulled along by the earlobe, which was what she used to get occasionally from the servants when she was a little girl exerting her bossiness. As soon as Milliardo stopped and let go of her, she twirled around to face him and delivered the first blow. "I knew you wouldn't like them."

Milliardo was having none of it. "Don't take this the wrong way, but are you mad!? Are you out of your tiny mind!? Have I really sunk so low in your eyes that I need women and children to fight my battles for me!?"

"They're _good_ at what they do! I've _seen_ them fight, and they're positively marvellous!"

"Compared to what!?" the ex-soldier hissed. "Which one of us has been on the frontlines of a war!? Hm!? You've never seen real fighting in your entire life! You don't know how difficult or dangerous it is! I didn't _want_ you to know those terrible things!"

As their whispers grew harsher, their noses got closer together, her reaching up and him bending down so they could be furious across a shorter distance. "You can't shelter me forever, and you never could! I know far more about what goes on in this world than you'd like to admit, and I think I'm more than qualified to judge these ladies on their suitability!" Then, Relena was the first to back off, stepping away a few paces and turning back to glare at him. "And besides...I can already tell you _you_ didn't find anyone suitable on your travels. And how long were you off looking? Remind me."

"This is simply out of the question."

"No matter what task they carried out, nobody would ever suspect them until it was too late. Who in their right mind would? They've already proved themselves to me, all they want now is the chance to convince you as well. Just hear them out." Then, Relena brought out her secret weapon, cuddling up to Milliardo, wrapping her arms around him, pressing her head against his chest and looking up with those big, blue doe eyes. "........please?"

Milliardo sighed heavily. The whole thing felt wrong, but not just the part about letting a pack of giggling girlies take over his most dangerous dealings, squashing his ego to the size of a grape and mashing it into the ground with their high heeled boots, one at a time. It felt so wrong to be in this position at all, of having to prove how evil he could be in order to do the world the greatest good he was able. However, when he put this one decision in perspective with the big picture, it didn't seem nearly as bad as the rest of the decisions he would have to make quite soon. His only hope was that his plan to impress the selection committee would be so frightening that the girls would reneg on the contract of their own accord. "...alright."

Grinning, Relena pulled him back into the lounge where the four sisters were waiting expectantly for their answer. "I'm willing to take you on for a trial period," he told them. "Just as myself and my...'employer' are under evaluation by the Cinq Association, so too will you be under evaluation by me. I've been thinking long and hard about what task to give my new staff once I found them, so I might as well give it to you straight, before we go any further. If you agree to my terms, you're welcome to try and impress me. If not, you're free to go."

Eventually, Yasmeen nodded, and the girls all sat down. "We're listening..."

**********  
  


On a quiet little street in a quiet little corner of Camden, there was a large three-story home owned by a little old lady with many cats. She lived in a little cottage-like building attached at the back, and rented out the three levels of the main house as separate apartments, and by doing this, had managed to live quite well despite being widowed for nearly thirty years. The first and second floors were presently occupied, but the third floor was available, and among the people vying for ownership of the lease were two young men, presumably fresh out of school and willing to share expenses until they could each afford their own chunk of London real estate.

Inside the third-floor apartment, there was the sound of a key turning in a lock, and then the main door swung open, revealing old Mrs. Heddlewick and her two prospective tenants. "Each unit has a full bath, but only the downstairs has a kitchen," she spieled as she marched straight ahead into the suite, reaching up briefly with one hand to pat her bun of thinning gray hair and then fiddle with her cameo brooch as she turned to face them. "If you want a cooked meal, there's a dining room off the back porch. The menu is tacked onto the posterboard next to the hat stand. Prices for each meal will be added to the rent bill at the end of the week and must be paid in full Sunday morning, _prompt_. Rubbish pickup is on Thursdays. If you miss it, you will be expected to dispose of the refuse yourselves, and _not_ keep it in the rooms until the next week. We have a girl that comes 'round to clean six times a month, and both she and I would prefer if the rooms were vacated _before_ she arrived. And no dogs. Birds, cats, and perhaps I would even allow a rabbit under special circumstances, but positively _no dogs_. And one other thing...no young ladies, either. This is a respectable establishment, and any philandering about with the opposite sex will result in _immediate_ eviction. Is that understood?"

It was just as well that the prim landlady couldn't see the way Duo rolled his eyes. "I think we might just be able to swing that," he said, sounding only half-serious.

"And you don't mind one extra cat?" Heero asked, looking down at his feet where two chocolate point Siamese were saying hello by rubbing up against his ankles.

"Not at all," said Mrs. Heddlewick. "Your friend told me all about your Turkish Angora, and it might even be good for her to socialize with a few of her own kind."

Duo wandered over to one of two windows in the front wall that opened the space up to the city below, and on the horizon, one could just make out a vertical blob that could have been the Tower of London. "What did I tell ya about that view, huh?" he boasted, making a sweeping gesture at the glass. It might not have been an ocean view with palm trees and golden sands, but it beat most of the views in his life by miles.

Heero was fairly quiet during the showing, for his own reasons. The more he thought about his experience in the park, the less he thought that setting up house in some domestic fantasy was a good plan overall. _Who were they looking for? And if it's me, why leave it so late? ...no, it couldn't be me, not after all this time. Just my ego talking..._ Try as he might to convince himself otherwise, however, the whole event was very disturbing, and he couldn't help but feel threatened. The details of the rooms didn't register in his mind, because far too much of it was being taken up with endless loops of speculation, and concern for Duo's safety.

A banging from downstairs interrupted the proceedings, and Mrs. Heddlewick seemed to know immediately what the problem was. "Oh...if you'll excuse me, I expect that's Mr. Fortesque, forgotten his key again. He's rather absent-minded." She excused herself and padded delicately back down two flights of stairs to the lobby, and the boys could hear her opening the door and conversing rather loudly with a person on the doorstep. "Where have you left your key _this_ time, Mr. Fortesque?"

"Eh?" came the slow, weak reply.

"I _said_, where have you left your key _this_ time!?" Mrs. Heddlewick's voice increased in volume, but somehow stayed friendly and respectful.

".....key? I 'aven't got my key, I've left it somewheres."

"I _know_ that, but _where_ did you leave it!?"

".......eh?"

Duo snickered, thinking old Mr. Fortesque must have been deaf as a post, but swiftly got back to the point of the visit. He picked up where the landlady left off in pointing out all the unique and wonderful features of the apartment, starting with the two-bedroom aspect, bounding from one corner to the other as he spoke, and felt safe speaking frankly because as long as they could hear Mrs. Heddlewick yelling at Mr. Fortesque, he knew they couldn't be overheard. "Now be honest and tell me what you think of this setup! There's one bedroom in behind here, and another one on the other side of the room there, and the bath's in the middle and it all looks out over the next street so we can practically see into peoples' backyards! We can alternate sleeping between the two rooms so that when this skirt she was talking about comes to clean, it won't look lopsided, right? It's close to your office, it's close to the Manor, and it's got that great park, too! There's no telephone, but the telegraph office is right around the corner, and then you get into all these fantastic restaurants, and I can't wait for us to sample every one of them! What do you think?"

Heero stayed fairly neutral, keeping his hands in his pockets and his thoughts to himself. "...it's very nice..."

Duo pouted. "You don't like it."

"Did I _say_ that?" Heero snapped, almost unpleasantly. "I'm just wondering if it might be wise to...hold off on this a little while longer."

Duo thought for a moment or two, then scooted up close to Heero to judge whether he really liked the closeness. "...you'd better not be getting bored with me already, I can only bend in so many directions and that's it. I'm not double-jointed..."

This time, Heero rolled his eyes, and reached an arm around Duo's waist to reassure him while he searched for the right way to break the news. "While we were walking up this way, I saw a pair of agents."

"What...did they see you?" Duo asked, suddenly worried.

"I don't think so, but they were definitely looking for someone. It might have been me, and it might have been my imagination getting over-active all of a sudden...they just gave me a bad feeling."

"...so, what does that mean?"

"I _do want_ this. And especially you. I just want to make _absolutely_ certain that I'm no longer of any interest to Jeffrhyss before we get tied to a fixed address that could put us in danger. If we went back to living under the same roof and something happened to you because they were trying to get to me, I'd never forgive myself."

Duo looked down and gnawed on his lower lip, trying to distract himself with the pattern of the carpet. "How long, d'you figure?"

"I'm not sure...I just don't think now is necessarily the right time." It was agony seeing Duo slide back down into despair, and leaving him there was intolerable. While the landlady was still downstairs hollering at her other tenant, it was safe to deliver a little reassurance, so Heero backed him up into the nearest wall, slowly and deliberately, transfixing him on the same smouldering gaze that always redirected his attention. "We'll just have to hope we're the best possible tenants she sees for the next little while."

Flat up against a blank space of wall between the credenza and a framed picture of the seaside, Duo finally smiled. He knew a lot of other people in his position who would say 'Enough is enough' and leave Heero to deal with his own neuroses and peculiar problems, and it filled him with a sense of pride to hold the promise he made to Heero like a banner, a blanket that wrapped the two of them together. He pushed off the wall a few inches and reached up with both hands to playfully straighten Heero's tie. "We can wait...I'm tough, I can take it."

The elderly pair were still hollering downstairs. Nobody was anywhere near the third floor. Gazing down at Duo's throat, Heero dragged a hand lightly down the length of the boy's arm, then caught him completely off-guard by grasping the arm suddenly, twisting it counter-clockwise and pressing Duo hastily into the wall front-first. Duo gasped and flailed his other arm up onto the wall where it stuck onto the maroon and emerald striped wallpaper, while Heero advanced on him from behind, holding the trapped arm gently but firmly and brushing the orbit of Duo's ear with his nose, exhaling softly onto the exposed skin. Duo let out a quiet, shivering laugh, and then a luxurious moan as Heero's lips came in contact with his throat. With his immobilized hand, he grabbed a handful of Heero's shirt and tugged on it, entreating him to press himself into Duo's back and bring out another moan and a gasp for a reward. A ticking cuckoo clock on the opposite wall somehow became louder in comparison, and then increased another notch when the downstairs hollering ceased and was replaced by footfalls on the stairs. As soon as the change occurred, Heero suddenly let go and moved away, watching with some satisfaction as Duo lingered against the wall, unable to register his absence for several seconds. Duo was still breathing in the soaked-in scent of vanilla candles that clung to the wall, his first free hand drifting down the wall like a crawling spider. Thankfully, he had the presence of mind to peel himself off and wander to the other side of the room with a deep breath, and the two made fiery eye contact across twenty feet of flowered carpet until Mrs. Heddlewick re-emerged from the stairwell.

"I'm ever so sorry," she apologized, wringing her hands. Her voice was a little crackly from overuse, naturally. "Mr. Fortesque is rather hard of hearing. Now, have you seen all that you need to see?"

The boys glanced innocently at each other, and Duo shrugged noncommittally. "I think so..."

"How long do we have to decide?" Heero asked.

The landlady looked to one side, calculating inside her head. "Difficult to say, what with the unemployment rates and such. I can't promise to hold it for you, of course."

"Of course," Heero agreed mechanically, reaching out to grasp the lady's hand gallantly. "Thank you for your time. We'll let you know."

The pair of them smiled nicely as they filed out of the flat, and as he passed the little table next to the door, Heero stopped to scratch one of the Siamese cats behind the ears. It purred gratefully and offered no opinion on what it had seen the two-leggers get up to only a few minutes earlier. Outside in the street, the boys quickly agreed that they had done the right thing, and went right into strategizing on how to handle the new threat of agents on the loose. Priorities had to be rearranged constantly.

**********  
  


Time was running short for anyone who wished to perform an exhibition feat for the Cinq selection committee. Young Master Peacecraft knew this, and Count Khushrenada knew as well. They both had to accomplish something soon. It had to be big, it had to be bold, and it had to be done by a certain deadline or it would not be considered.

Treize had several delightfully malicious thoughts on what to do, but since he loved them all, he had a great difficulty deciding which feat was best, so he decided to invite some of his closest 'business associates' over to England for a little meeting. He was so wrapped up in what presentations he was going to make to them that he missed the delivery of the morning mail to Lady Une's front doorstep, and had to go back to the foyer to sift through the dregs of party invitations and department store circulars, just in case there was anything interesting with his name on it. As he strutted around the place, shuffling envelopes, he paused by the open door to the parlour and saw Dorothy, huddled in a corner and staring out the window. A pathetic figure of a woman, she was poorly dressed with awful blue bags under her eyes, and was cuddling Anna Maria on the padded French green window seat.

Wickedly amused by her unescapable situation, the Count stopped at the doorway and chuckled. "Still moping, my flower?"

Scowling in a hurt way, Dorothy looked up, and looked away just as quickly. With no money of her own, and no co-operation from her hosts, she was effectively trapped. Almost nothing had gone right since she set foot on British soil, and her options had run unexpectedly dry. Naturally, it was taking its toll in the form of a deep depression.

Treize took no notice of her sad silence, except to mock her. "Well, never mind...even without your delightful chatter, you can pull your weight around here in other ways. You can start by taking my shirts to the laundry, if you want, only tell them no starch this time or they'll eat their own washboards."

Close to tears, Dorothy hefted up her cat and stalked out of the parlour, squeezing past Treize without touching him and crawling off up to her room, or her jail cell, whichever way one chose to look at it. The Count chuckled cruelly and switched his attention rapidly to the envelopes he held, and as it happened, one of them actually was addressed to him. It didn't happen that often, since most of his official correspondence was sent to Switzerland and then re-routed appropriately by his personal secretaries, but he was open to all sorts of possibilities when the postman rang. One odd thing about the letter, wrapped in a plain white business-size envelope with the address neatly printed in black ink, was the lack of a stamp or a postmark, indicating that it had been hand-delivered rather than going through official channels. This intrigued the Count, and he stopped to open it right then and there.

Inside was a single sheet of quality white bond paper, trifolded and slightly wrinkled from moisture. There was a strange dark marking on the inside, and only when he fully opened the page did Treize see that it was dried blood. The colour and consistency were more than a little familiar to him, but the other odd thing was the shape of the mark. It looked as though someone had dipped a large knife in the fluid, coating it completely, and then dragged it across the page in a diagonal slashing motion. The page wasn't cut, but bore the broad stain proudly, a wordless message that spoke volumes.

Treize held the page up to the light and raised an eyebrow at it. _Hmmm...someone got up on the wrong side of the coffin this morning, didn't they?_ Crackpots were not in short supply in his circles, so he thought little of it, but folded the note back up and stuffed it into his jacket pocket on his way out the front door. Using Lady Une's money, he took a cab uptown to a little-known gentleman's club and smoking room set in a lavish chateau overlooking a cricket pitch, where one either had to be a member or the guest of a member to get in. His betrothal to Une put Treize close to the front of the list, and once he was inside, he could invite whomever he wished. This was how he assembled a small cabal of his contemporaries to discuss the matter of his upcoming feat.

The Count had a large table reserved in the main hall, between the bar and the billiard table. All around the smoke-filled space were millionaires in the finest clothes, chatting about how hard it was to find good help around their mansions and other self-absorbed topics, lit by sultry gaslamps under Tiffany shades and served drinks by pretty girls in tea room dresses. By the time Treize got to his table, his eight guests were already well into their second round of drinks and were yukking it up in two or three different languages, both enjoying and mocking British hospitality as they slurped down their vodka and gin."Gentlemen!" the Count called to them, taking his place at the head of the table. "So good to see all of you."

"A pleasure, as always," said a bespectacled man with a thick German accent, raising his glass.

"And hopefully lucrative, as always," added a portly baron with a great conjoined beard-and-sideburns set.

"Well, that depends on you, and your decision-making abilities," said the Count. Before he could turn to the serving wench and place his own drink order, however, he noticed something on the table right in front of him, a beige manila envelope with a bulge in the centre. He looked down at it, noticed it had a neatly printed address, no stamp, and no postmark, then looked up at his partners in crime. "What's this?"

"Arrived before you did, by special courier," said a third man, a skinny ex-army officer from France. "Why don't we have another round of drinks while you ponder it?"

"More Martinis!" a fourth shouted, attracting the attention of several other patrons in addition to the nearest serving girl.

Treize smirked and shook his head, then waved to the waitress with one hand while turning the envelope over with the other. There was a strange bulk to it that didn't seem usual. It folded easily in half, so there were no documents in it, just something long, thin, and a bit chunky. While the others demanded more liquor, he tore into the envelope and peered inside, his eyes crinkling as if he didn't quite believe that the contents were real. He reached into the golden pocket of paper and pulled out a large carving knife, coated with blood and rust.

The chatter ceased, and even in their intoxicated state, the others were able to focus on the object as Treize slowly turned it this way and that, studying it analytically. "My word," a moustached man in a top hat said with wonder. "Someone wants to get their message across _very_ badly."

_Really quite amateurish,_ thought the Count haughtily. "Excuse me a moment..." He stood, skidding his chair back about three feet and dropping the knife back into the envelope with careless pride. He knew that whoever had left him the pretty package must be waiting for him nearby to have it out, so he made his way through the smoke-filled room to one of the less-advertised exits. Straightening his tie, he stepped outside into a warm patch of sunshine encased on all sides by a well-groomed alley surrounded by silver birch trees, and waited. When nobody appeared immediately, he took a few steps away from the door and turned around.

Sure enough, someone was waiting for him, perched high up on the mantle over the door, balancing on a strip of concrete no more than six inches deep. The figure in white leapt off the mantle, limbs contorted like a preying mantis, and landed a few feet in front of the Count, straightening up to glare him in the eye. "I see you got my message," said Wufei.

Treize held the brown envelope up and shook it like a packet of dog treats, smiling sarcastically. "All the subtlety of a brick...but _twice_ the intelligence!"

"I've chosen not to be offended by your gift for flippancy," the boy in white snarled. "You'll learn to take me seriously soon enough."

"I'm ready to start right now," Treize said, scrunching his eyebrows and folding his arms. "I can't _wait_ to hear what I've done to incur your wrath."

"I told you from the beginning that we had unfinished business, remember?"

"Ah yes...that was shortly before you promised me something to the effect of Heero Yuy's head on a platter, at which you failed miserably." The Count propped up one arm by the elbow and stroked his chin, pretending to see the light for the first time. "And _could it be_ that you set me up from the beginning? Otherwise, why else would you _now_ be working side-by-side with your alleged sworn enemy? As our English hosts would say, '_bad form_, old chap'."

Wufei was unfazed, and slowly crawled toward his adversary, his expression growing more fierce with each syllable. "I follow whomever it serves my current purpose to follow, and right now my purpose is making sure you pay for your crimes. I hear that you're on the verge of what you believe will be a great success, but don't expect to enjoy it. I'll bide my time until you've almost reached the peak of your pride, and then I shall strike, I _promise_ you." At the end, he was close enough to spit in the Count's face, but made do with a violent snarl that bore more of a resemblance to a crazed madman than to interior decorator with a chip on his shoulder. He brushed past Treize and laid a hand on the brick wall opposite the exit, where the alley took a sharp turn to the left and spilled out into the side gardens. "There's no place on Earth you can go where I can't see you," he warned before leaping over the six-foot brick wall and vanishing.

Once he was gone, Trieze let his face fall back down into a scowl of genuine concern. The boy seemed unbalanced, and opponents like that were oftentimes much more dangerous than the ones who thought out their attacks rationally. He went back inside, dropping both the manila envelope and the blood-stained note in the trash along the way, but he carried the event with him in other ways, knowing that he might never find a way to defend against this new version of his nemesis.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Eighty-Seven: Heero's team and Relena's army intersect as Milliardo attempts to impress the selection committee, putting innocent lives on the line in the process._

[Edit: Well, now, thanks to my Internet outage, I have to re-do some calculations here...hm...I would say, Episode 87 will be out on July 16. That should reconcile the delay with my schedule. =P Rachel is in charge of the news for awhile, as she's hard at work on a new layout, while I'm still lining up server space, and...well...that's about it for now. =) Hope everyone had a fun and safe holiday week! ]


	87. Support Structure

**Disclaimer:** These characters are used and abused without permission. But they enjoy it. =^_~=

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Eighty-Seven: Support Structure

_"Do not needlessly endanger your lives until I give you the signal." ~Dwight D. Eisenhower _

July 16th, 1903

Not all agents were necessarily evil. Those still associated with Cinq were bound by the morals and values adopted by their less-than-honourable employers, certainly, but Cinq wasn't what it used to be. It was short one member who chose never to have anything to do with the organization again, and that member had once commanded his own fighting force, just like any other. But he dealt with them differently.

These agents were respected with the truth, and in turn, they respected their leader for his honesty, and vowed to carry out his orders even after he was no longer able to give them. They wore simple navy blue clothes based on designs of civil war uniforms worn by troops of the northern United States, with matching caps, and ran around portions of the world in secret, peering out from under the brims of those little blue caps in silent contemplation. Some weeks after the grand assembly that was held to start the process of replacing their leader, they became aware of a plot, a command coming from Camp Jeffrhyss and going out to all the other factions regarding an agent who had recently gone astray. The Blue Caps, as they called themselves, didn't like the sound of what they were hearing, and felt they needed to do something about it.

However, all they had to work with were rumours. They needed to get their hands on official documentation carried by an agent, one of Jeffrhyss' men, if possible. With this in mind, they took up positions throughout London, looking for an agent to nab and squeeze for information, but staying close to a specific radius around one individual. Among other people, the Blue Caps saw an agent in a gray suit and bowler hat, with tawny hair and a decidedly nasty sneer. They discussed him amongst themselves, but decided that he was too far down on the food chain to be interested in. The agent was left to carry out his business, and the Blue Caps went elsewhere, certain that a better opportunity would present itself in time.

**********  
  


It was slightly out of character, but Duo and Heero were walking down a busy route of commerce that was teeming with life and packed with shops, hanging around a young, pretty, well-dressed lady and helping her carry her shopping, which consisted of two hat boxes stacked on top of four dress boxes, plus half a dozen paper bags from some very posh establishments. Even more surprising was that the well-dressed young lady was Hilde. The boys had taken her on a shopping spree to get her spruced up a little, partly to say thanks for being so supportive of them, but mostly so that Heero could have a pretty decoy at his disposal.

The finest of her new gowns was sealed away in the boxes, but the plainer dress she wore was just as splendid, made up of a cheery red check in cotton voile, and a straw sun hat painted white with a matching red ribbon. Hilde looked and felt like a real lady now, and while most poor flower girls brought up in the slums would have had a hard time carrying off the change, she lifted her head proudly and made it all believable, from the way she walked with dainty confidence to the way she commanded her bearers to carry more and more loot as they bounced from shop to shop. Within an hour, she had easily gone through all the money they had scraped together for the outing.

"Now _this_ is _living_!" Hilde crowed as yet another gentleman tipped his hat to her as she passed.

Heero and Duo, following behind with an armload of stuff each, rolled their eyes at each other. "A little _too_ convincing, don't you think?" Heero suggested.

"Hey, shows she was paying attention all that time Dot an' Lena were around," Duo replied with a shrug that nearly unbalanced his burden.

"Less chatter back there!" the Queen Bee ordered with a flick of her white-gloved hand. Almost immediately afterwards, she stopped and stared googly-eyed at the contents of a jewellery store window. "Oooooh..."

"Oh, no you don't," Heero snapped.

Hilde patted him on the head. "Don't panic, I just want a teensy look, okay?" She twisted around, flung open the door to the shop and slipped inside, unobstructed.

Duo looked at Heero and snickered, then crinkled his eyes sympathetically. "This is _really_ nice of you, and I'm taking careful note of it."

In time, Heero relaxed his glare and smirked, setting his boxes down on the ground and leaning against the building with his arms folded. "I can't fault her for having a dream, not if I don't want to make another powerful enemy."

"She wouldn't tell anyone about us, I _know_ she wouldn't," said Duo. 

"...just making sure, that's all." In Heero's opinion, there was currently no such thing as 'too cautious', which explained why keeping Hilde happy was so important, and also why he was still examining every inch of his environment for threats of a different nature. His eyes fixed on something in the distance, and he elbowed Duo. "Over there."

Immediately alert, Duo looked in the same direction, but only saw an average-looking mob of people tracking up and down the streets carrying shopping of their own. "Which one?"

"Gray suit, bowler hat two sizes too big, sandy hair, mud stains on the trouser cuffs."

With that description, Duo easily picked him out, aparently an agent on a mission. He made a scoffing noise through a smile and shook his head. "What number's that, now?"

"Since the park? ...nineteen," Heero calculated.

Duo whistled. "_Damn_...I don't know if I wanna be around to witness whatever's going down."

Heero thought quickly back to the beginnings of his first and only mission. Often an agent didn't know where he was going until the day he had to leave, and didn't know why until he arrived. In the interim, it was always possible that there were some minute facts on paper, hidden on one's person. "Go get Hilde," he instructed quietly, eyes still on the young man in the gray suit. "I've got an idea."

Duo went and fetched Hilde out of the jewellery store, and the trio packed up their parcels and began tailing the man, at a distance. Here was an ideal opportunity, Heero explained, to test out some of their less-used abilities in a manner that might also curb his curiosity about where all these excess agents were coming from and why. They followed the young man down the same road for a long time, and Hilde soon pointed out that they were headed for a train station. There was very little time to act before the gray suit and bowler hat would disappear for good, so they formulated a lightning-fast plan.

Ducking down a side street, they ran parallel to the main road about halfway across the remaining distance to the station. Heero took up a neutral position on a park bench with a little less than half the packages, while Hilde took the rest and headed back to the road, and Duo tucked his braid down the back of his tweed jacket and headed along a diagonal to the station itself. Finally having earned the position of power he had always deserved, Heero sat back and watched his well-oiled machine in action at last.

Hilde piled hat boxes on top of dress boxes, hung bags off her arms, and arranged it all so that she could just barely see where she was going. Walking away from the station, she aimed carefully for the bowler hat, dodging everyone else with feigned wobbliness, and crashing deliberately into the agent. She squealed and went down in an avalanche of packages that took the agent out as well. His hat came off and he hit the ground with a terrible 'Oof!'

The sight of a pretty girl in distress brought a whole flock of gentlemen to help her to her feet, and the swarm made a particular point of helping her pick up every one of her parcels. The agent in the bowler hat wanted to scowl as he clambered to his feet, but suppressed it well. He found that he had one of the lady's paper shopping bags and grudgingly handed it back to her as he put his hat back on, not wanting to look suspicious to the swarm.

Then, as the young man turned to exit the scene, anxious to get where he was going, he slammed face-first into another youth, obviously another rubbernecker. "Oh, sorry, mate!" the youth offered in a ramshackle Cockney, but the agent took no notice, shoving him out of the way as he carried on toward the train station.

Hilde went one way, securely balancing her cargo, and Duo went another way, snickering and playing with the agent's wallet. Heero smiled to himself as he watched, pleased with their efficiency.

They regrouped and hopped a cab across town, just in case the bowler hat wised up to their tricks and went looking for them. While they stopped for a mid-morning snack at a little café, Heero emptied the wallet out onto the table so they could all have a look at the contents. "Sloppy...just plain sloppy," Heero remarked at the large number of library cards and official miscellany he carried, all with different names on them. "You're only supposed to carry _one_ set of credentials with you at any given time."

"Maybe they're not for agent-type use, y'know...maybe he's just running from his ex-girlfriend?" Duo joked, holding up a small photograph of a curly-haired, 200 lb. Can-Can dancer.

While Heero winced and shuddered, Hilde gathered up the money and drooled over it. "Hmmm...nearly forty pounds...enough to go back to that jewellery store!"

"I've created a monster," Heero deadpanned, sifting through some business cards with grungy, bent edges. "Four tobacconists and a liquor store. Here's to his good health."

"Seven toothpicks...ewww, he's _used_ three of them already!"

"Hah! Listen to this horoscope he clipped out of the paper: 'You will lose a substantial sum of money'!"

"Lady Tiger Lily in the fourth race, twenty to one odds...I'll have to keep both eyes on that one...if he'd lost, he would have ripped up the slip and thrown it away."

"...'Yvette LaBouche, go straight up to the top floor and ring bell three times after ten o'clock'...oh, that's just wrong."

Duo paused before joining in the next round. He had unfolded a scrap of paper and seemed to find something of interest that brought a sombre shadow to his face. "Hey...I think I found something..."

Heero and Hilde both scooted their chairs closer to look over his shoulder on either side. It was a typewritten note on new paper, with four columns of data spaced out evenly on separate lines. The note read:
    
    
    Atenabu Luxor arson June 28
    Dreschler & Co. New York sink ocean liner August 7
    Mileski Malta (?) demolition July 22
    Peacecraft (anon.) Leeds (Ibrox) July 16
    Yan, Sun Gee & Bros. TBA (Korea) flooding August 3
    

The cryptic message was instantly sobering. Slowly, Heero slid the pieces into place and attempted to interpret it. "The other four names...I recognize them. They were all delegates at Cinq's grand assembly. According to the rulebook, they each have to 'audition' for the vacant role by mimicking the sort of behaviour that made Cinq what it is. This must be the most recent batch of attempts to impress them."

"I'm not liking today's date right next to Relena's name," Duo said shakily, leaning forward over the note and clamping his hair to the base of his neck with one hand. "What does this mean, that...that she's going to do something stupid and pointless and mindbogglingly destructive today?"

"I think I know where Leeds is," Hilde mused, "but who or what is 'Ibrox'?"

Heero squinted at the peculiar word, but that didn't make it either more or less comprehensible. He shook his head. "Back to base. Maybe by now, the others are back from their supply mission, and we can ask them."

**********  
  


'Base camp' was the meeting room at the pub, and as predicted, Trowa and Quatre were back from wherever they had been. Within a remarkably short time, Hilde had permanently etched the workings of Morse code into her mind, and while she was still not up to the skill level where she could actually _read_ the messages she deciphered, through six hours of drills she translated each letter or number given to her in dots and dashes with 98% accuracy. At that point, any missed characters could probably be logically gleaned by whomever read the transmission. Now all they needed was a means of intercepting telegraphs, hence the supply mission.

Quatre was overly anxious to show off what he and Trowa had found, so Heero graciously let them make their presentation first. Out of a large cardboard box, they hefted a hideous contraption made of wires, lights, vacuum bulbs and, the one recognizable piece of technology, a common electromagnetic telegraph key, for transmitting and receiving. They set it down on the table and let everyone get a good look; 'everyone' excluded Sally, who had a patient to see, and Wufei, who was just generally miserable lately.

"It's a telegraph absconsion machine," Quatre explained excitedly. "Here's how it works...you take this long wire, see? With the little clamp on the end? And you just climb up a telegraph pole and hook it up to the wire. Then when a message is transmitted, the signal goes from one office to another as usual, but it _also_ shoots down this little wire and activates this telegraph key right here, see? The government ministry that regulates the system will swear up and down that _no_ technology exists that can pirate a telegraph signal, but this thing really works, and the inventor _proved_ it to us!"

On cue, Trowa reached into the back pocket of his bone white slacks and pulled out some handwritten pages with memos about relatives arriving on specific trains and long-distance medical diagnoses by the inafmous 'old wives', regular everyday traffic. "He says the trick is hooking up outside a telegraph office that does as little business as possible. Then they're not in as much of a hurry and an untrained operator has a better chance of successfully intercepting a message." He gave the samples to the other three for consideration.

Heero tried not to look too enthused until they could be sure it wasn't just a parlour trick. "Black market, I suppose?"

"Only place these sort of people operate," Trowa confirmed.

"...I'm terrified to ask how much it cost."

"Good, then I don't have to tell you," Quatre laughed guiltily. "You don't want your blood pressure spiking, and I don't want to die young."

Duo was fascinated by the electric beast and leaned right over it for a closer look. "How soon can we test it out for ourselves?"

"Depends on what you want to listen in on," Trowa continued. "If you want to hijack a signal being sent to Lord Jeffrhyss, for example, you'd hook up to the office closest to the Isle of Wight."

"I'll reserve judgement until I see it in action," said Heero, reaching into the pocket of his jet black executive jacket, "but it will have to wait awhile. Take a look at what _we_ found."

The typed note with the cryptic information was passed across the table, and both Trowa and Quatre studied it with a mix of concern and befuddlement. "We thought there might be an outside chance you'd know what 'Ibrox' meant," Duo added, once it appeared clear that both boys had figured out the general gist of the document themselves.

Quatre sat back and shrugged with a helpless look on his face, but Trowa kept squinting at the paper, and then began tapping it with the back of one hand. "...I feel like I should know this..."

"Think hard," Heero prodded forcefully. "Something involving the Peacecrafts is going to happen in Leeds _today_, but without that missing element..."

"Hold on, hold on..." Trowa waved faintly at the others, struggling to dredge something up from the depths of his memory. Then he looked up at Heero with very faint fear. "If you don't mind...I'd like to ask Arthur."

"...why Arthur?"

"I don't know, I just...we talk now and then, and when I look at this word, his face pops into my head. I can't explain it."

A half-forgotten fragment of a conversation wasn't a whole lot of backing for a major breach in security, but then, Arthur had always known more than he let on, and was excellent at keeping secrets. They didn't have time to be too choosy. Heero sighed. "Alright. Let's go."

**********  
  


They cut the meeting short and went back to Bridlewood, all five sneaking over the brick wall next to Arthur's cottage so as not to sound any alarm bells in the main house. Despite all their effort at staying quiet, the old carpenter heard them scaling the wall and met them as they came over, bringing a barrel for Hilde to step down onto and then lifting her the rest of the way down in quite the gentlemanly way. He would have done so even without the fancy red check dress.

They all went into his cottage and got straight to the point, showing Arthur the typed note and delivering an abbreviated version of what they already knew. Still quite sharp for his age, Arthur caught on quickly. "Ye've no' got much time, ah reckon," he said, sinking into his easy chair while the others took various seats all around. Slowly, he nodded at the paper. "Nevertheless...come to th' right place, ye have."

"What can you tell us?" Quatre begged hastily.

Arthur set the note down on the end table next to his pipe, reached behind him to the bookshelf where a dusty album sat, and looked at Trowa the entire time. "Ye _will_ remember our wee talk aboot football, laddie." While the youngsters glanced amongst themselves in anticipation, Arthur began flipping through the old album, narrating as he went. "Ibrox is a stadium in Glasgow. Ah s'pose ye could say mah 'home team' plays there. Usually its th' _team_ that makes the news, but last year th' stadium itself got a bit o' publicity."

Arthur found the page he was looking for in the album, and handed the opened book to Trowa, while the others bundled around. There were some newspaper clippings spread over two whole pages. The headlines all read about the same: 'Disaster at Ibrox.'

"A friend o' mine was at the match, he wrote to me th' next day," Arthur continued. "Scotland were playin' England at home, April 5th o' last year. Thousands, just _thousands_ in the stands all chantin', an' jeerin', and bein' raucous all at once. The stewards were doin' their job, makin' sure the fans dinnit get _too_ rowdy, but...well...us Scots, we've got the reputation for bein' the biggest, meanest hooligans in the league." He spoke with a certain amount of joking pride just then, but his tone quickly changed.

"Somehow, the terraces got overloaded, and they was all jumpin' up an' down on 'em at once, _thousands_ o' people. The planks underneath 'em gave way...and a great, wallopin' section of terrace collapsed wi' ev'rybody on it. Twenty-five dead, five or six hundred wounded. The papers still dispute th' figures to this _day_."

While the others grew drawn and pale at the unfortunate retelling, Heero leaned back in his chair, taking up a pensive position. "Is it possible...not especially likely, but _possible_ that someone could duplicate this sort of accident in Leeds today?"

Arthur squinted. "Today? Hardly possible at all!"

"Are you _sure_?"

"As sure as ah _can_ be," the carpenter replied, shrugging. "Leeds 'aven't got a team, an' Hunslet's disbanded...ah dunno if they've even got a ground t'play on, an' besides that, football's out o' season."

It didn't add up. Heero leaned away from the group, pressing a thumb to his lower lip as he calculated potential losses related to doing something as opposed to doing nothing. "We can't take the chance," he concluded quietly. "We've got to go."

**********  
  


Leaving Hilde behind to sit with Arthur awhile, the boys skipped lunch and fled for Euston Station, all accepting the risk that the whole idea of a Peacecraft-orchestrated mini-disaster was the proverbial wild goose chase. It was far into the afternoon when their train hit the outskirts of the city nestled in the far north of England. From King's Cross to Leeds, the trip took more than three hours, and if not for an old woman selling apples at their destination, the boys would have been starving hungry at the outset of their mission.

Once inside the city, they were blind. They knew nothing about the area, or the layout, or the people. Reduced to stopping passers-by on the street, they practically begged for information, but the general consensus was the same; football just wasn't on the slate for that time of year, and the region had already lost the closest thing it had to a team of its own when the Hunslet Football Club lost the lease on its ground. If Milliardo and Relena were honestly planning to pull a spectacular stunt akin to what happened at Ibrox, they couldn't imagine how or where.

With the sun beating down on them, Heero, Trowa, and Quatre clumped together in the street outside the station, daubing at their brows with their sleeves and frowning at each other while Duo wandered off somewhere. "Anything?" the troupe leader asked.

Quatre looked sheepishly at the ground. "Everyone's either too busy, or they don't know what we're talking about." Frustrated, he turned to his left and whacked Trowa in the arm. "You're the sport expert, you ought to know all about this sort of thing! If Relena could find a non-team playing a non-game in a non-stadium out of season, why couldn't you!?"

"Don't get snippy with _me_," Trowa chomped back. "All I get to do lately is read the scores in the paper the next day! I never get to _see_ a match first-hand anymore, and the numbers all start to blur together after awhile...wish I could get back on the field myself one of these days..."

Heero checked his pocket watch. "Quarter to four. If we don't figure out what we're doing soon, we'll--" When he looked up and realized Duo was missing, he started looking around. The chef was across the street at a kind of gift shop, picking some thin, flat objects off a divided wall rack. Walking over to the counter, Duo handed one or two coins to the saleswoman, and then headed back to the group, flipping through his small purchases.

"Who wants to play tourist?" Duo asked cheerily, and he held up a series of postcards to the boys, one after the other, making a lively presentation of each little photo on stiff paper. "Look, we can see Kirkstall Abbey, nice lookin' place there...and Temple Newsam House, home of...some guy who married the queen of Scotland or...something...and look! The Corn Exchange! Yum yum, _everybody_ loves corn..."

With pleasant exasperation, Heero folded his arms and sighed. "Does this have anything to do with anything?"

"Of course it does!" Duo sang, holding up postcard after postcard. "See this? Skipton Castle...only about a thousand years old, so it should still be standing by the time we get there, can't be bad...and..." Suddenly, his face changed, and he danced the next card in front of Heero with teasing slowness. "Ooooh...what's this? Can we go see this!? Can we can we can we, _pleeeease_!?"

Heero frowned at the postcard at first, then looked closer and reached out to grab it, bringing it right up to his eyes with both hands. Trowa and Quatre got up on either side of him, and they all gazed at a photograph of a broad field with grandstand seating behind it. Neatly arranged in rows on the field, some standing and some kneeling, were many young men with moustaches and striped shirts with numbers on, undoubtedly some kind of sports team. Heero flipped the postcard over and read the caption on the back. "...'Elland Road Sporting Facility, developed from the Old Peacock Ground, 1896 through 1897, to serve the communities surrounding our fair Leeds'."

Duo grinned and bowed with a Shakespearean flourish of one hand. "Thank you, thank you, no applause..."

"Look, there's even a little map to it!" Trowa added excitedly, pointing it out on the card. "We can just hand this to a cab driver and go right now!"

Heero tapped the card against his other hand, giving Duo a secret smile as a reward. "Quite right, and so we should."

Trowa and Quatre took it upon themselves to find a carriage for hire that could accomodate all four of them, while Duo slunk up to Heero, nabbed the end of his braid and swiped it down the length of Heero's nose, playfully, like it was a paintbrush. "Do I get a bonus for finding it?" he asked in his bedroom voice.

Eyeing him lasciviously, Heero stepped just close enough so that they could breathe the same air, but not so close that anyone would start staring, and one hand drifted up to the satiny lapel of his jacket. "We'll see," he purred.

The other boys called them over to the side of the road where some hired transport was waiting, and as the quartet embarked the vehicle, Heero handed the postcard to the driver, and no further instruction was needed.

**********  
  


When the carriage rolled up to its destination, four heads poked out the windows on the left hand side, marvelling at how long and involved a journey they had gotten out of one measely shopping trip for Hilde. Upon seeing Elland Road for the first time, however, they were hardly impressed. The inn across the street was a far more interesting edifice than the single grandstand that squatted at the side of a scraggly greenish field. There wasn't much else to look at, as far as structures went, so it was a stroke of luck that there was at least something going on atop and around the structures to catch their eyes and keep them.

There was a football match being played. Out of season. Without official teams. And somehow, the grandstand was practically bursting with spectators watching it. Two batches of young men, one in blue jerseys and one in white, were dashing up and down the pitch between painted white lines, chasing a firm leather sphere around and passing it between them with precisely-aimed kicks. Watching the mock game were many hundreds of people on a mid-summer outing, and at ground level around the field were the usual types one expected to find on the sidelines, like coaches and food vendors and boys with dwindling handfuls of programmes.

The team of four slowly approached the small-potatoes excuse for a stadium, and one of the programme boys walked right up to them, brandishing his papers. "Support football in Leeds! Buy a ticket for today's fundraising match!" he called out tiredly, having delivered the same short sales pitch to dozens of others that day.

"Looks to me like it's almost over," Trowa observed astutely, keeping one of his eagle eyes on the scoreboard.

The boy in the cap sighed, rolled his eyes and scuffed his shoes into the dirt. "Awright, I can let you in 'alf price..."

"No no, that's not necessary," Heero said slyly, having taken one of the lad's leaflets and studied it swiftly. He fished some coins out of his pocket and handed them over. "So, it's a fundraiser, is it?"

"That's right, sir, so we can 'ave our own football club on our own field," the boy answered gladly. "We're gonna 'ave a team for Leeds, an' we're gonna buy this pitch, an' we're gonna build it up into summat grand, an' I'm gonna work 'ere all me life!"

Heero found himself smiling whimsically at the dream, but as the quartet offered the lad their best wishes and walked toward the stand, his face fell slightly. "If something terrible _does_ happen today, that may never come about."

"Think positive," Quatre reminded them all.

They stopped at the foot of the stand, looking up at the throng of people absorbed in the match. Men, women, and children of all ages and descriptions sat in tiers of wooden benches held up on an intricate support system of metal bars and beams. The tiers sloped up away from the playing field to a height of about fifty feet, and the sides were covered with upright sheets of grayish-green corrugated metal to hide the ugly inner workings of the stand. Stickers and posters clung to the siding, advertising the varieties of food and drink for sale there, but it was so late in the match that everyone was more or less done eating. The predominately-male crowd cheered attentively as the blue-jerseyed goal tender made a fantastic one-handed save on a critical penalty shot, and so it went on.

"How many?" Heero asked.

Trowa used his sharp vision and rapid math skills to estimate the size of the crowd. "About three thousand."

"If you were going to bring that stand down...how would you do it?" It was an ugly question, but a necessary one if they were to stop a potential catastrophe. Unfortunately, they didn't have many ideas between them, so they stood in a little pocket of silence surrounded on all sides by happy cheers. They tossed around ideas about ramming the stand with a heavy cart, overloading it with hidden weights, and even the use of explosives until Trowa wandered away from them to inspect the structure more closely.

The glut of people just about filled the stand, leaving little of the bench space visible. Even so, when Trowa looked very carefully between the spectators, he saw dim shadows of the metal latticework holding the benches, and the people, effortlessly off the ground. He stared and stared at just one spot, and just when he thought he couldn't stare for one second more, something under the benches moved.

Trowa's eyes grew slightly. He beckoned to the others and led them down the side of the stand, inspecting and running a hand along the corrugated metal. Heero and Duo whispered to him anxiously, and they discussed the possibility of someone trying to sabotage the stand from the inside out, but Quatre held back a little. All of a sudden, he felt something...odd, but familiar. His sixth sense began screaming at him, but the words were garbled, incomprehensible. Quatre touched a hand to his temple, frowning at the ground in confusion, but eventually he pulled himself together and rejoined the others.

Security was low at the unofficial event, so they could wander where they willed, and felt safe from reprisal. Sure enough, Trowa found a hole in the corrugated metal, in the very middle and the very bottom of the back side of the stand. A squarish panel of metal had been unfastened and removed, and in fact it was just big enough for a person of average size to wriggle through, and there were scuff marks in the half-dead grass, indicating that someone had grabbed that opportunity very recently. They looked around and saw no one, then stood in a semi-circle around the hole and stared at it. "Okay...who wants to go first?" said Duo.

One by one, they got down on all fours and crawled through the hole, Trowa first and Heero last, making sure that nobody saw their strange behaviour. Inside the grandstand, it was even darker than they expected. The 'roof' was made up of benches and sporting fans, so very little light was getting through, but as the boys straightened up and let their eyes adjust, they began to see the same movement Trowa detected. As they scanned the iron jungle above them from left to right, they discerned one...two...three..._four_ different figures in black, climbing around on the bars. Up to no good, most certainly, but none of them had long fair hair like the Peacecraft siblings, so the mystery deepened.

The figures in black hadn't noticed the intruders. "Fan out," Heero whispered, and the boys each targeted one of the saboteurs and moved toward them. They started climbing, and their clankings on the metal monkeybars were muffled easily by the crowd, but soon, one of the figures felt the vibrations as Duo made his vertical advance, looked down, saw him, and squealed in a girl's voice.

Duo froze and locked eyes with a very familiar dark-haired lass. She had a dark braid half the length of his own, and a green paisley scarf wrapped around her head like a bandana. In one of her hands was a wrench, and with it she appeared to be undoing one of the thousands of bolts that held the stand together, but worse than that was Duo's realization, after searching his memory banks, that the saboteur was Kamal, one of Quatre's beloved siblings. He scowled angrily, and while there was a multitude of things he could have yelled at the woman, all he got out was "_Hey_!!"

The other six players looked around in panic at the noise, and there were further exclamations of shock. Heero was now creeping up on Adeela, not a faceless black blob, while Trowa was catching up to the twins, Nashida and Asalah. The others were as high as thirty feet off the ground, but Quatre was lagging far back, his breath trapped in his throat as he stared up in shock, shaking his head faintly.

Duo reached across the three-foot span between the trellis he was on and the next trellis over, so he could climb higher and confront Kamal properly. "What do you think you're doing!?" he hissed, leaning over as far as he dared.

"Nothing you'll have to worry about if you get out now!" Kamal snapped back.

Six trellises to Duo's left, the twins were backing quickly away from Trowa, leaping from bar to bar in an attempt to escape. He could hardly watch, holding his breath and covering his eyes every time they jumped. Four trellises to the right, Heero was balancing between two supports and levering himself up to the youngest one, who froze wide-eyed as he approached. Quatre's head was still spinning, but gradually he came to his senses, targeted the nearest of his sisters, and attempted to exercise his authority in a clear, strong voice. "Nashida, I _order_ you to come down here _this instant_!" he demanded, pointing at the ground in front of him.

Wrapped in an identical black head scarf to that of her twin, Nashida bit her lip and conceded, slowly climbing down, but Asalah got back to work. Wordlessly, Trowa watched as she unscrewed a bolt, dropped it to the ground where it hit one of many other bolts with a clink, and quickly replaced it with a short metal rod the same diameter as the missing bolt. There was a hole drilled into one end of the rod, and Asalah threaded a long piece of string through the hole and tied it tight. Trowa looked around frantically and saw hundreds of other little rods with strings attached, and it became clear to him just how they were planning to bring the stand down.

Duo was making some poorly-aimed grabs for Kamal's wrench but couldn't catch it. "Gimmie that!" he snarled.

"Get off!" Kamal shot back, and she actually tried to hit Duo with the wrench, also missing her target. It took the lion's share of their effort to stay aloft, and it was a long way down to the ground.

Meanwhile, Heero had Adeela completely immobilized by a red hot stare. He swung himself over to her trellis, snaking an arm around her waist and leaning in close to bewitch her with his talents. "Adeela," he cooed warmly, "give those to me..." She stared helplessly into the deep blue ocean of his eyes, so mesmerized that she barely noticed the wrench and pliers slipping out of her hands and into his. Adeela had resisted Heero's charms before, but this time he caught her off-guard.

By now, Nashida was stepping down off the trellis and met Quatre's angry gaze with confusion. "Brother?"

The gardener was so hurt and furious that he didn't know where to begin. "What are you _doing_!? Who put you up to this!? _Answer me_!!"

Nashida was understandably bewildered by his attitude, especially since they were all under the impression that their brother approved. She blinked at him, wide-eyed, and spread her hands out in supplication. "We're not here by force, we're doing what we _have_ to do. We thought you understood that."

Quatre got hit in the head with a piece of rhetoric that did not compute. He shut his eyes, shook his head, and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Wait a minute...understood _what_?"

While the plot thickened on the ground, Trowa was still studying the girls' handiwork. The strings attached to the rods holding the places of the missing bolts were tied together in bunches, and the bunches were tied together in clumps, the end result being that a small handful of ropes, when pulled at once, could yank hundreds of rods out of the support structure of the stand, potentially triggering a complete collapse. While the other lads were bent on dragging the girls down off the iron lattice and having it out with them, Trowa was trying to calculate how long it would take to cut all the strings and prevent a disaster.

"We're helping Miss Relena and her brother," Nashida explained innocently. "It's the only way we can practice in case we ever have to fight to free the rest of our family, you know that! Nadia's out there somewhere, and maybe she needs our help!"

Quatre was still incredulous. "_How_ do you expect to help Nadia by harming hundreds of innocent people!? And _where_ did you get the idea that following _Relena_ would get you there!?"

"But...you agreed that it was best...didn't you?"

High above, Duo and Kamal were still locked in a fiesty struggle for control of her destructive tools. Amazingly, they managed to keep their grunts of effort in check, for being discovered by the people in the seats would do none of them any good, but when Duo stepped across to the trellis Kamal was perching on, things turned ugly. He finally got a commanding grip of the wrench, but stepped on Kamal's foot at the same time, and she had to let go of the instrument and jam her hand into her mouth to keep from yelping out loud. Jerking his arm back with unneccessary force, Duo unbalanced himself, and slipped.

At thirty feet in the air, there were no enemies, and as Duo's foot flew off the lattice, Kamal leaned over and snatched one of his arms with both of hers. All eyes flew to the scene and Heero, who had persuaded Adeela to give it up and start climbing down, inhaled sharply and nearly fell himself. Everyone cringed, and Kamal was the worst off with a bar jutting into her gut as she grappled painfully with Duo's arm. To complicate matters, Duo looked up frantically at the bolt Kamal had been working on, and it had wriggled out on its own without being replaced. The metal bars creaked, as if they were about to buckle. Without a thought for himself, Duo reached up and peeled Kamal's hands off his arm, letting himself fall. A collective gasp went up as he flailed on his way to the ground. Normally he could have handled a leap from that height, but he landed awkwardly, crumpling and slamming his left shoulder into the ground, hard.

The proceedings ground to a halt as everyone scrambled to his side, everyone _except_ Asalah, who used the distraction to continue with the next phase of her operation. Duo was suddenly surrounded by hands trying to help him up, but something was wrong with the shoulder he landed on, and he yelped in pain at being touched. Heero raced to his side but had to stop a few feet short, painfully watching his mouse from a discreet distance, and was pushed aside by Kamal as she blasted past him to get to the injured party. "Are you all right!?" she exclaimed, cradling his scruffy head and close to tears.

Duo was still seeing tweeting birdies flying around in little circles. "...nngh...I think I am...maybe..."

Suddenly overjoyed that she hadn't caused him mortal harm, Kamal squeezed him all over, whimpering thankful cries of 'Alhandullellah!'. Then, all cuddled out, she sat up on her knees and whacked him in the back of the head. "Ja-hosh! You could have killed us both!"

Duo looked up at Quatre blankly for a translation. "It means 'idiot'," Quatre grumbled, though he had to clean it up a bit.

The chef winced as he pushed himself upright with his good arm. "Gosh, I've been called an idiot in three different languages. I'm honoured." Then he looked past the concerned crowd and saw one of the twins scurrying around, just before she disappeared through the hole in the metal siding. "Where's she going?"

Everyone turned. Asalah had gathered up a large portion of string bundles and taken them through the hole with her. Knowing that their time was up, the other girls ran to the hole and clambered through, and were quickly followed by Trowa and Quatre. Duo tried to get out as well, but the shooting pain returned to his shoulder, and the opposite ankle as well. Heero naturally tried to pick him up, but Duo cried out in agony at being moved. There was no possibility of getting him out the same way he came in. Some shouting occurred outside, and Heero fell into a crouch, running a hand through his hair in indecision until Duo tugged on his sleeve, panting with the effort. "Get your butt out there..."

Heero looked at the bundle of strings, put them together with the rods and the missing bolts, and shook his head. "I can't do that. If someone pulls that rope--"

"Then go make sure they don't!" Duo hollered back, but the outcome was already becoming questionable. The girls were pleading with someone outside, yelling 'Not yet! Not yet!'

The rope began to go taut, and Heero made a flying leap, landing on his belly in the dirt as he grabbed the rope and pulled back twice as hard. He crawled back through the hole, keeping a tight grip on the homemade lanyard, and unexpectedly looked directly up into the face of Milliardo Peacecraft. The young men each took a moment to register the other's presence, and then immediately went for their weapons. They both had one hand on the rope and one hand levelling a revolver at the other's head. The other boys and girls were huddled off to the side, praying that nobody got shot.

"Get up and step away," Milliardo ordered calmly, ready to take over once his minions were finished the grunt work.

Heero slowly got up, but he didn't step away. "You know I can't let you do this."

"Why must you insist on interfering with my family's affairs?" the young heir asked.

"I'm not here for a debate," said Heero. "The agent assigned to watch this feat take place and report back to his superiors on how well it went? He's not coming. We made sure of that." To his satisfaction, Milliardo deflated a tiny bit. "So that means if you go through with this now, nobody will be around to watch, except us...and there is _no_ way in _hell_ I'm going to prop up your ego in front of Lord Jeffrhyss or anyone else. He'll read about it in the papers tomorrow, but that's all he's going to get. Even your new flunkies aren't obligated to vouch for your success...and Jeffrhyss won't take their word for it anyway. Give this up and go home."

Narrowing his eyes, Milliardo looked over at the pack to his far right, and the girls seemed to shrink under his gaze as if they already felt the sting of failure on top of their master's disapproval. Still, he wasn't about to quit just because this sneaky upstart of a butler told him to. He tightened his grip on the rope, wrapping it around his hand three times, and took a step forward, aiming his pistol in a more threatening way. "Step...aside."

Inside the grandstand, Duo had been dragging himself to the exit a little bit at a time, and was easily blocked from Milliardo's view, giving him a unique position of suprise attack. He grabbed handfuls of the rope and very carefully wrapped it around both hands, ignoring the throbbing ache in his left shoulder. Then he put one foot on either side of the hole and whispered just loud enough for Heero to detect, "Let go!"

Heero let go. Duo pulled with all his strength and dragged Milliardo forward, creating a moment of shock just long enough for Heero to switch his gun to the other hand and let fly with a savage right hook that sent the man staggering backwards. The girls squeaked with fright as their leader fell, and when he next looked up, he was staring down the barrel of Heero's revolver, well and truly beaten. "...now, _go home_," Heero stated with a tone of finality.

Millardo touched a hand to his lip, and brought it back down with a trickle of blood. He glared venomously as he crawled to his feet, slowly picked up and holstered his own revolver, and began to back away. The girls swarmed around him, pulling on different parts of his red army jacket and pleading with him to let the matter drop. Perhaps he realized that the day's work really was a waste, but the boys would never know. He gathered up his troops and led them away silently, not looking back once. There would be other opportunities, he decided, and next time he would be ready for Heero's meddling.

The girls kept looking back at Quatre, but didn't dare stop to discuss things with him. He stared helplessly after them, full of unanswerable questions. He wanted to know who had manipulated his sisters into this hideous assignment, but deep down he knew. Nashida gave him the answer without even knowing it. Relena. She was to blame. And she would have to answer for this crime against his family. Quatre stood there and fumed until Trowa came up and put a hand on his shoulder. "You alright?"

".......no." _And I won't be until I sort out the person responsible for the subversion of my sisters._

Behind them both, Heero was helping Duo out of the metal cave just as the crowd tossed up another tremendous cheer for a goal scored by the white jerseyed team, totally ignorant of how close they had come to grievous personal injury. He helped Duo limp aside and leaned him against the wall of the grandstand, then wandered over to the others, taking Adeela's wrench and pliers out of his pocket and looking at them almost guiltily. "We've, um...got some overtime ahead of us...can't really leave the place in this condition..." Even though it was technically a victory, it didn't feel like one. Duo was hurt, Quatre was in crisis, and they had about five hundred bolts to screw back in before the crowd cleared out and made the stand transparent again, and right at that moment the whistle sounded, ending the match. Brimming with applause, people began filing down off the stand and milling about wherever they wished, and the boys had to scramble to get the loose square of corrugated metal into place to avoid suspicion. Then they looked around in dismay, and Heero shrugged. "...we might as well take our time with dinner."

The other three made tired grunts to the affirmative, and they left. Later that night, they would have to go back with tools and torches, and repair every last bit of the damage the girls caused. Victory never tasted so bitter.

**********  
  


Much later in the day, the Blue Caps struck gold. An agent was creeping up on an eating establishment, a pub by the name of Catherine's, and was attempting to establish a surveillance post across the street. The Blue Caps knew what the person was there for, by virtue of his location, so he was a prime target.

They waited until he ducked down an alley to investigate all the entrances and exits to the area, and then they jumped him. The agent, while older and more experienced than the bowler hat whom they rejected earlier, could not cope with a half-dozen-man ambush, and didn't even have time to reach for his sidearm. The Blue Caps dragged him into an abandoned shop by the back door and ransacked his person, where they found a single sheet of paper, the official document they were looking for.

It was a berserker order, and it was aimed squarely at Heero Yuy. The Blue Caps' leader spoke highly of this young man, and whether he was currently giving them instructions or not, they knew their master would have wanted them to look out for the lad. At least now they knew what they were dealing with, but all they had done was snatch one agent off the street. Now they knew they were facing four entire legions of enemy agents, all after one man. And that man didn't even know it.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Eighty-Eight: Dorothy reveals a terrible secret to Relena, at the same time as Quatre decides to tell her exactly what he thinks of her. Meanwhile, Heero discovers a previously unknown affinity for music._

There's some fact and some fiction in this episode, and most of the facts were generously supplied by the very helpful lads (and lasses?) at www.leedschat.com. There *might* have been an exhibition match for fundraising purposes, but we really don't know...which has never stopped me from making stuff up before. =^_^= Barring another long series of mishaps like the one we had this week, Episode 88 will be out on July 31st, which had to be pushed back because of the other delays, yuck. =P


	88. Wanted

**Disclaimer:** These characters are used and abused without permission. But they enjoy it. =^_~=

**Note:** Due to scheduling screw-ups on my own part, the release dates of each episode may not exactly match the story dates listed after the literary quotation. Problems at home caused me to get out of sequence, but that hasn't changed what I believe should be the proper chronological flow of the story. Maybe I'll be able to get synchronized again, but if I don't, it's no biggie. Just wanted to let you all know. =^_~=

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Eighty-Eight: Wanted

_"Shame is pride's cloak." ~William Blake, "The Marriage of Heaven and Hell" _

July 27th, 1903

The sting of what happened in Leeds faded at different speeds for the different people involved, but after a week or so, they were all over the initial shock. Then they began coping in different ways. Quatre withdrew into his gardens and stayed there most waking hours, even shutting Trowa out in his mania to understand how his family's integrity could have been shattered so easily. Heero and Duo stayed in Leeds that night, and after a solid ten-hour uninterrupted sleep, Duo was healed just enough that he could walk unassisted. The next afternoon, Heero took him straight to Sally's townhouse, where she prescribed rest and relaxation for the next few days. Duo fobbed it off to Otto as injuries sustained while attempting to climb a tree, and the story went over about as well as could be expected. Life was slowly gravitating toward normal, until the next off-the-wall occurrence.

Heero decided not to try interacting with any more agents, for the time being. It would take awhile for Milliardo to re-schedule his feat anyway, and he couldn't possibly rely on that kind of luck blessing him twice in a row. Finding out about the Peacecraft plot _and_ stopping it was a one in a million chance that wasn't likely to ever happen again. So, Heero went back to his 'normal' life, proofreading for the newspaper during the day, meeting with Duo in secret at night, and cultivating a few hobbies in the meantime.

Sometimes, when he didn't have to be at the office until late, and in the early morning hours between Duo sneaking out and the pub opening for business, he would creep downstairs and sit at the piano. It was an old, creaky, honky-tonk beast, standing upright against the far south wall of the pub. Catherine had once said that she bought it for a song at an estate auction, and that it cost a whole symphony to keep it in tune. Based on the beginner's experience with music that he'd had foisted on him at Christmas, Heero became moderately intrigued with the instrument, and would plink away at it from time to time.

By that morning, he had worked his way through a few of the music books to be found inside the plush padded piano bench, and felt ready for something new. He plucked out a waltz entitled 'My Wild Irish Rose', which didn't look too difficult. As usual, the sounds of his hesitant chords brought Catherine downstairs a little early, yawning and pulling a brush through her hair. She didn't generally like anyone touching her prized piano, but as long as it was someone she knew and trusted, it at least made for pleasant background noise while she swept up after the previous night's carousing. "Morning," she mumbled through another yawn.

"Mm-hm," Heero answered, engrossed in at least getting the notes right. Style would come later.

All was quiet for the next twenty-five seconds while Catherine shuffled into the kitchen, backed by a lilting, triple-beat time on the soft pedal, and then the volcano erupted. "_Aaahgck_!! Get _out_! Get out of here, you mangy little..._hey_!! Oh, that's it, you're in for it!"

Heero stopped playing and hurriedly asked himself, _Did I shut my door on the way down? ...uh-oh..._ Then he continued the song, trying to look innocent.

Catherine came storming out of the kitchen, wide awake with both arms stretched straight out in front of her. Dangling from her hands was a fluffy charcoal gray cat, licking its chops after finding an unguarded bucket of chicken scraps on the floor by the back door to the cooking area. "If I've told you once, I've told you a _hundred_ times, keep this animal _away from the food_!" she bellowed.

The original plan was to keep Shadow a secret, but she was such a curious little thing that she couldn't stand to be a secret for long. Heero forced down a smirk and kept on playing. "She only pesters you because she likes you," he bluffed. 

"You must think I'm a real pushover," Catherine sneered, plopping the cat down on the top panel of the piano. "Do you have _any_ concept of the trouble I could get into if the Health Department found a cat loose in the kitchen!? They could write me citations from here to next February! They could even shut me down! That Sir Henry Power guy could walk in here _today_ and you'd be back out on the streets by _tomorrow_! What is the _matter_ with you!? Don't you _think_!?"

Heero thought. "I didn't like to say anything, but maybe if your staff kept a cleaner kitchen, Shadow wouldn't be so interested in going there. Maybe you should put those girls of yours on double shifts."

Catherine opened her mouth to say something really nasty and cutting, but closed it, then opened it again with an angrily raised finger, then closed it again. To a point, he was right. The girls _had_ been a bit distracted lately, and it was beginning to affect their work performance. At times, the kitchen was an utter tip, but she hadn't realized how bad it had gotten until just then. She deflated from the shoulders on down. "Okay...maybe I'll have a word with them later," she said, moving away slowly, "but you just keep that animal in your room!" She stomped out of sight and began making clanking noises from afar.

Shadow thought it was an awful lot of fuss over nothing, since the chicken had been rather dry and tasteless anyway. She paced back and forth on top of the piano, listening to the rhythmic sounds coming from the wooden box and feeling the vibrations through her paws, then hopped down to the music stand and walked right in front of the opened book. Heero watched her and smirked as she blocked the notes he was trying to read, and when he faltered, he noticed that his former streak of perfectionism was greatly quieted. The days when he would sit down with a 96-piece silver service set and not leave the table until every scrap was perfectly polished were long gone. It felt...nice.

Next, Shadow stepped down to the keyboard and added a whole slew of sour notes to the song, padding up and down on the keys and crawling over his moving hands. That made Heero laugh out loud, and as the music deteriorated, he scooped her up and cradled her against his chest, not caring about the cat hairs getting all over his older black suit. "Don't you worry about Cathy," he said jokingly as he scratched her behind the ear. "She's just jealous because she knows she's not the only woman in my life." Shadow purred regally and swatted playfully at Heero's face, confident in her importance.

The cuddle session was going on at its own pace, until motion on the far side of the building caught Heero's attention. In the restaurant, Kamal and Hessa had begun their morning clean-up. The girls had more or less been avoiding Heero, partly out of shame and partly because they knew how persuasive he could be when he _really_ wanted to know something, such as Milliardo's next move.

Heero swivelled around on the piano bench, still cradling Shadow, and directed a pointed glare at the girls. Hessa looked back guiltily, as if she wanted to apologize even though she wasn't in Leeds for any of the action. Her nurturing character had been pestering her to make things right ever since her siblings returned from the botched mission, but in the short term, Kamal just yanked her away with an equally sharp glare, quietly advising that she get on with her work. Besides, Heero really wasn't the one who needed an apology.

After watching the girls in the cornflower blue dresses vanish to complete duties elsewhere, Heero stood and carried Shadow back up to his room, bearing the extended snubbing by the Winner sisters with grace and dignity. He knew better than to reprimand the monkeys instead of the organ grinder.

**********  
  


Duo took immense satisfaction in presenting Otto with a note from his doctor instructing that he be kept off his feet for a week, but asking to be paid for that week was pushing his luck. Nevertheless, the chef healed quickly through the use of hot compresses and theraputic brandy, and after that it was back to work as normal.

Sally managed to make a few housecalls to check on the recovery progress, and since her profession made her a little more important than plain old tradesmen, Duo was permitted to greet her in the butler's pantry, the happy medium between upstairs and downstairs. "You're lucky you were young and fit _before_ your little 'accident'," she reminded him as she prodded his left shoulder through his white tunic. "The better shape you're in before you get hurt, the faster your body repairs itself."

"Yeah, well...Heero took pretty good care of me after it happened," Duo said, smiling wistfully. His smirky, secretive tone of voice suggested that there was much more to that particular story than he was letting on.

Intuitively, Sally packed up her black Gladstone bag while ducking her head at him a little, searching for traces of a blush. "So...how is everything between you two?" she asked at the bottom of her voice.

Again, Duo smiled in a mysterious way and straightened his tunic in preparation to scoot back downstairs. "Things are great," he replied simply, letting the atmosphere of understatement tell the rest of the tale for him. "I'll tell him you said 'Hi', okay?"

"_And_ remind him that I want an update on how much sleep he's getting," the doctor added. "The last time we talked, I told him if he didn't start sleeping through the night, I'd give him something to calm his nerves."

As Duo turned to open the pantry door for her, he involuntary grabbed the end of his braid and began toying with it, his grin enlarging. "No need...I've got it taken care of."

All traces of the conversation were gone by the time they got out into the hall, and appearing on cue through some wicked magic once again, Bertram Augustus took the lady from Duo in order to show her properly to the door. Duo fought hard to keep his smiles in check as he marched downstairs to resume his duties, and could faintly hear Otto stopping Sally at the front door for a formal discussion of his employee's health, but it really did signal the end of his vacation. To be honest, Duo was starting to get quite bored doing so much nothing, and wondered how he ever managed to do so much of it in a single day before he had a job.

When he arrived at his post, Merlyn could be seen outside, picking berries off the currant bushes next to the patio. Since it was safe to talk business under these circumstances, Quatre quickly scurried out from his room and approached Duo, tugging on his sleeve as he had done several times before over the past week. It was getting to be a farce, but Duo humoured him just one more time. "Yes, dear?"

Quatre crinkled his eyes with shame. "I hate to bother you..."

"But you will..."

"...and I know I'm being a pain lately..." Over Quatre's shoulder, Trowa crept in from another portion of the house and instantly recognized what was happening. He folded his arms and stood behind Quatre, and mouthed the next words he spoke along with him, in silent jest. "Would you make me a few sandwiches to take on the train, please?"

Duo shifted his weight from one foot to the other and folded his arms as well, squinting. "Again?"

"Are you _actually_ going to get on the train this time?" Trowa asked, making Quatre spin around in surprise.

The gardener looked at the tired disbelief on both their faces and talked down to himself on the inside for getting his own hopes up time and again with no result. "_Yes_, today is definitely the day. I've figured out what I'm going to say, and I'm going to tell her _exactly_ what I think of her."

The other two boys truly wished Quatre would either get it over with or change the record once and for all. He wanted to confront Relena on the subject of his sisters' future, and the way they were being treated, but every time he tried to leave for Hampshire, he chickened out. Time and again, other servants had offered to go with him, to make sure he got there and back with enough time in between to thoroughly have his say, but he constantly insisted that it was something he had to do on his own. The trouble was, he could never actually do it. After begging Duo to make him a bag lunch to eat on the train, he generally ended up eating it somewhere secret on Bridlewood property, hoping not to get caught. "Do you _mean_ it?" Duo asked, ducking down to his eye level with a comically serious face, "or am I going to find you behind the potting shed, knee-deep in leftover cheese and pickle?"

Quatre bent the fingers of both hands back in strange positions, twiddling them nervously. "Actually...could I have something different this time? I was thinking, maybe egg salad or..."

Duo grunted, rolled his eyes, and did an about-face toward the bread bin on the counter. While he worked, Trowa turned Quatre completely around with one hand and looked down at him with pity and disagreement. "Maybe an argument with Relena isn't the best thing for you right now."

"I _have_ to tell her that what she's doing is reprehensible, and that she's dragging down perfectly innocent people along with her," the gardener insisted. "My sisters are being blinded by fancy promises of power and prestige, and they can't speak up for themselves right now, so I've got to do it for them."

With a hesitant shake of his head, Trowa unfolded his arms, putting one hand on the boy's shoulder and letting the other hang in mid-debate. "Okay, just..._listen_ to yourself right now. If you want them to quit, why don't you _talk to them_ instead of badgering Relena when you know darn well she won't listen anyway?"

Quatre looked down, the turned away, walking a few paces down the length of the kitchen table and tapping its surface as he went until he was able to look back up with a scrap of confidence. "...because I can't order them around like that. In some circles...you could say I'm supposed to, because I'm their brother, and it's expected of me, but...I don't personally think I have that right."

"So...you going behind their collective back to Relena is better?"

Quatre stared at Trowa a little while longer, then whipped his head around and walked swiftly to the counter. "Are my sandwiches ready yet?"

Duo was just wrapping the meal in a brown paper bag, and as per usual, he folded down the top edges to create a handle, and held it up with both hands ceremoniously. "One chicken salad, one watercress and pineapple, one shiny red apple, and in future if you want egg salad, give me time to boil an egg first." He handed it over. "Happy trails."

"...thank you." Quatre took the sack lunch and strode bravely out the back door, head held high. He said a genial farewell to Merlyn, who looked up and smiled in her queenly way, and then he was gone. The other two boys just stood around shaking their heads and placing bets on how soon he would be back.

**********  
  


Clutching his little brown sack like a talisman of strength, Quatre boarded the local train en route to a station that could take him to Hampshire. Not knowing which it would be, he asked several people for directions along the way and got several different viewpoints on what was the best path to take, but eventually he made it to the correct platform, where he was immediately told that the train was late.

Ages passed, and he ended up polishing off his whole lunch before 10:30 out of boredom. Then it was announced that another train was approaching to take the place of the one that was very, very late, but that seats would be available to three times the normal amount of travellers on a first-come, first-served basis, in order to clear the backlog as quickly as possible. The news was met with disgruntled groans from all around the station, but they would abide by the edict. By the time the replacement train rolled in amid great, billowing puffs of steam, the platform was overflowing with grumpy, late businessmen and finicky couples trying to get to their holiday cruises on time, and Quatre's slight figure was no match for their pushing and shoving. Huge numbers of people flowed onto the train, sweeping right past him without mercy, and it was a struggle just to take a step forward without falling down in the sea of cream fabric.

Inside the train, it was very simple. Two rows of seats on either side of a narrow corridor, and all of them filled. Too polite to be pushy, Quatre was left to wade through the buzzing crowd, vainly searching for a vacant spot to perch. He was shuffled back through car after car, dodging porters and passengers alike, squeezing past suitcases and stubbing every toe he owned on anything available. Then, when it started to look like he'd be standing all the way to Southhampton, he spotted a tiny patch of unguarded real estate at the very back of the last car, and he dove for it, squashing himself in between the window and a very large gentleman whose belly was hanging partway into the aisle. Quatre settled back and sighed happily, then slowly opened his eyes and received a bitter shock.

Sitting directly across from him, facing the back of the train, was Dorothy. She was also squashed into the window seat by an overly large woman, and was staring wide-eyed at Quatre like he was the last carrier of the Black Plague. They both had to suppress a sharp gasp, and then the staring contest began.

Whether it was polite to think so or not, Quatre thought she looked terrible. There were dark blue circles of frustration under her eyes, and she was even paler than usual. Her hair hung in strings and her clothes were nothing short of common. Anna Maria, who sat curled up in her lap, seemed to have suffered no ill effects from whatever had flattened her mistress, nor did the feline seem to care as she licked her paws selfishly. At that same moment, Dorothy was jealously thinking how well Quatre appeared, brimming with energy and off on an adventure all by himself, as if to prove to the world that the weak little boy no longer needed his hand held everywhere he went. The temperature in that particular car of the train dropped about ten degrees as they pierced each other with equally pungent glares, and they spoke not a word to each other the entire trip.

When the train finally arrived in Southhampton, they continued to stare each other down as the people rose from their seats in tiny waves, rippling down the length of the train one row after another in rapid succession. The two very fat people in the aisle seats got up and waddled out of the way, and to prove that he was still a gentleman to those who abused him, Quatre held back to let Dorothy into the aisle first. She carried nothing but her cat and her purse, and kept looking angrily over her shoulder as he followed her out.

Then they were out on the platform, free to go their separate ways, but even walking on a totally even plane so that it could not be said that one was following the other, they seemed to be headed in the same direction, to look for a cab. Due to the immense traffic, what few waiting vehicles stood in front of the station were quickly snatched up by others, until only one remained. Quatre looked at the pony and trap with its semi-shaven, slightly drunk driver sitting atop, then looked at Dorothy. Dorothy looked at him, then at the cart, then back at him, and then started to speed up. Quatre began walking a little faster in response. Then she sped up, and then he sped up again, over and over until they were both running full tilt towards the cart, making the driver cringe and pull away from that side, anticipating an impact. The last of Quatre's genteel nature went out the window as they slammed into the little pull-cart simultaneously, both grabbing for the handle on the little half-door.

"Right, an' where are we off to, then?" the driver slurred at them. A few terse words from the teens, and it was clear that they both wanted to speak to Relena, right away, that instant. Since no other transport was available, they were reduced to sharing a ride to Sutherby House, which they carried out in total silence. When the pony and trap pulled up the long gravel pathway to the front door of the mansion, Dorothy got a head start by thwapping Quatre with her handbag and bolting, leaving him to pay the driver, but he got his own back by having much more sensible shoes on than the young lady's high-heeled boots. They got to the door at the same time, yanked the bell pull at the same time, and began talking over top of each other when Pegan answered the call. The startled butler let them both in at once, almost jumping out of the way as they barrelled past him, and he was actually coated with a light cloud of pure white cat hair stirred up by the whirlwind they created.

Already alerted by the doorbell, Relena was on her way casually to the foyer to see who it was, decked out in white lace, and was stampeded by her former gardener and former best friend all at once. They scrambled through the foyer to get to her and skidded to a halt short of knocking her all the way into the ballroom. "I need to talk to you," Quatre opened, terse and already exhausted.

"I need to talk to you first!" Dorothy whined in return.

Quatre turned to the baroness with a scowl, with his hands on his hips. "Well, you can just wait until I'm finished!"

"What kind of gentleman _are_ you!?" the other shot back.

"Just a minute!" Relena exclaimed, holding her hands up defensively. She glanced between them oddly. "...did you plan to arrive at the same--"

"No!" they shouted at once.

Sighing faintly, Relena turned and strode delicately to a small table near the door, set there temporarily, and opened the tiny drawer. From inside, she drew a newly-minted gold half-sovereign coin with the noble visage of King Edward on it, faced Dorothy, and set the coin up on her thumbnail. "Call it in the air."

As Relena tossed the coin, Dorothy bit her lip in panic. "Tails!"

Relena caught the coin in her throwing hand, slapped it on her other forearm, judged the result, and looked apologetically at the girl. "Sorry." Dorothy pouted and wandered off, stroking Anna Maria's head for consolation, while Relena clasped her hands in front of her and turned to Quatre with raised eyebrows.

Now that he had won the right to speak first, Quatre found that he didn't really want it, but it was too late. He also wasn't counting on being overheard by the likes of Dorothy, but deep down, he didn't care. Balling his fists and then relaxing them again, he focused on Relena's falsely innocent face and said what he had to say. "I think what you've done to my sisters is _vile_. I think you're using them in the worst _possible_ way, just to further your own hideous cause, and they deserve infinitely better than you. I only _wish_ there was some specific law against what you're doing, so that you could be taken away from them before you do any more damage. They've been through enough without you and your brother imposing your own sick agendas on them, and I'd like you to leave them alone."

Relena contemplated the request, a bit heavy-lidded, and then tilted her head to one side. "Can't. Wish I could, but leadership is all about making the tough decisions. Was there anything else?"

Quatre's jaw hung loose. "That's _it_? I came all this way and spent days preparing my speech, just for you to turn down it flat!?"

"Believe me, your sisters weren't our first choice, but they've proved to be the best possible choice we could have made at the time. And don't you lecture me on the morality or my 'sick agenda' when you don't even know what it is! This is the hardest thing I've ever had to do, and I'm not the slightest bit happy about it, but it _has_ to be done, and _your_ family approached _me_, once I'd brought the idea to them casually, without putting any pressure on them at all! Right up until we signed the contract, they were perfectly free to back out at any time at all, and they didn't!" Relena cleverly left out the part where she manipulated Adeela with the golden carrot of her brother's approval. Before he could start thinking about that subject, which was no doubt jostling aroung his brain at that very moment, she steered the conversation over to Dorothy, walking away from the gardener to cut off any possible counterattack. "Now, while I still have some patience left, what do you have to say?"

The question caught Dorothy off guard almost as much as winning the coin toss threw Quatre. She seemed to be spooked and out of focus, also uncomfortable with discussing personal matters in front of her enemy but without any practical choice. As she stood there, blubbering, trying to form coherent syllables, tears welled up in her eyes until she finally spouted forth unobstructed. "I've left Treize...for good. I can't go back there! They both treat me like a servant! I'm less than nothing all of a sudden! They won't listen to me, they laugh at me when they think I can't hear them, they--"

Relena stopped her with an upheld hand. "If you've come here looking for a place to stay...I really don't know if I can trust you anymore. He told me that you were in on his deception the whole time, that it was your only reason for coming to England, and worst of all...that you were never really my friend."

"_Please_!" the pitiful girl begged. "I have nowhere else to go!"

"What about home?"

"...I don't _have_ a home."

Slowly, Relena began walking a tight circle around Dorothy, a tactic she picked up from many sources. "You used to spend hours telling me about your villa on the Mediterranean, with mountains out your bedroom window and a south-facing vineyard where you used to take tea and _biscotti_ with your friends...sounded rather nice." She stopped a short distance off Dorothy's right hand, watching rather suspect tears roll down her cheeks. She was such a phenominally skilled fibber... "Was that a lie too?"

Once again, Dorothy stared at Quatre with apprehension, but he shrugged coolly. "You already know _my_ secret," he said. "It's only fair that I get to stay and hear yours."

That was that. Nothing in Dorothy's life would be significantly better or worse if one more person knew the truth about her, so she swallowed once, and let it out. "I'm not a baroness at all. There's no villa...no vineyards...and no friends that I ever wanted to see again. My family sells pickled olives at a roadside stand in San Gusmè! They're practically penniless! And when I made the slightest mention of how wretchedly poor we were, father blew up at me without any warning and said if I didn't like it, I could find my own way through life! He threw me out onto those cold streets without the slightest thought for my safety or happiness!" Through her sobbing, she stopped long enough to realize that she was embellishing reality to her benefit just a teensy bit, but it was a difficult habit to break. "...well...maybe he didn't..._throw_ me out...maybe I left...and maybe I complained just a tiny bit too much about our finances...but it doesn't matter now, because I can't possibly go back there, not _ever_!"

Relena was absolutely aghast, not at the fact that Dorothy wasn't nobility at all, but at the way she had callously tossed aside her entire family, something Relena couldn't have bought for herself with every last penny she was worth. "They must be worried _sick_ after all this time!"

"Probably not after they discovered I'd taken all the money out of mother's clay jar to start my new life," Dorothy admitted painfully. She suddenly held up Anna Maria, her supposed lifelong companion, and made another startling statement. "This isn't even my cat! I bought her because I saw a girl very much like myself in a painting who was a baroness, and she had a cat just like this, so I thought it would make me look convincing...then I made it as far as Germany, buying fancy dresses and eating in the finest restaurants for about a week and a half before the money ran out.

"I met Treize at exactly the right time, while he was showing off in front of his compatriots, boasting about his wealth and buying round after round of drinks. We struck up a conversation...thinking back on it, I suspect he knew all along that I was a fraud, but having a pretty ornament like me on his arm was a nice perk for appearances' sake...and once he found a place for me in his plan, I was set. All expenses paid trip to England. Jewellery, dresses, fine food...everything I'd ever wanted...and all I had to do was lie for it. I'm good at lying. It's the only real talent I have." Beaten in every sense of the word, Dorothy retreated a few paces, gazing down at the floor shamefully. "I can't go back to my family and admit everything I've done. And I can't stay with those love-sick baboons now that they don't need me anymore! Please, Lena...you're the only one left I can turn to. I'm desperate."

For a moment, Relena was genuinely touched, but her doubts crept back into view, and she couldn't possibly agree right away. "While I'm sure you didn't mean that the way it sounded, I still don't know what to do. You've lied so much already, what assurance could you give me that it won't happen again?"

Uninvited, Quatre insinuated himself into the conversation suddenly. "She's telling the truth now," he declared, not expecting them to ask exactly how he knew. Relena met his eyes with curiosity, and he glanced back with quiet confidence, unwilling to explain further. "I can just tell."

Though she was careful not to let it show outwardly, Relena was grateful for Quatre's opinion. They had offended each other so many times lately it was difficult to keep score, but he had never misled her in any way. "Perhaps it's best if we work this out on our own," she continued, however, putting an arm around Dorothy and nudging her toward one of the hallways. She paused to look at Quatre one more time, with a cold stare. "In the meantime, I respect how concerned you are for your family, but if you want them out of my affairs, you should take it up with them, not me."

Peeved that his assistance with the Dorothy situation had been taken without giving anything in return, Quatre stiffened from the neck up. "Fine...I'll see myself out." He left the house, and the pony and trap was still there waiting for him. He opted to take it, no longer caring how or even if Dorothy made it back to London.

Back in one of the great marble hallways of the converted mansion, Dorothy sniffled into her handkerchief, letting Anna Maria step down to the floor to give her arm a rest. "Are you letting me stay?" she snuffled at Relena.

Relena thought back to the night of reckoning with Treize, when the world began to cave in on her. "You've really hurt me, Dorothy."

"I _know_...and if I had it all to do over again..."

Gradually, Relena's tone and expression changed, taking on a catty slyness that Dorothy failed to notice. If she had, she would have been looking into a peculiar mirror indeed. "A kind gesture _worthy_ of a true baroness may be in order here, to prove your sincerity..."

Dorothy nodded happily, too tired to recognize her friend's tone of manipulation. "...oh, _anything_!"

Relena stopped and put both hands on Dorothy's slim shoulders, directing her to look straight into her eyes and nowhere else. "I want you to go back to Lady Une's house," she said, and the words had barely escaped her lips before Dorothy was lodging a squeaky protest. "Hear me out, do.....you see, thanks to all the meddling that's gone on over the last two years, Treize is a very real danger to me, for more reasons than you might expect. We're both playing against each other in a massive game, and it would help myself and Milliardo a great deal if we could have some _inside information_ about his plans."

"You...want _me_...to spy on _him_?"

"If you want, think of it as a subtle continuation of your prior duties as my maid," her Ladyship rationalized. "If I reinstated your 'salary', as it were, and if you hid this fact from Treize while bringing me back whatever tidbits you were able from time to time, even in telegrams, you could start building a secret nest egg right under his nose, and then when my brother ruins him, you'll be left standing in the very _latest_ fashions, no doubt."

It was simple, sweet, and oh so tempting. The return to the high life was in Dorothy's grasp, and all she had to do was what came naturally to her anyway. 

**********  
  


Heero's day turned out to be quite ordinary. He went to work, strolled through the park on his lunch break, emptied out his 'In' basket, and headed for his surrogate home without incident. During his limited travels, he spotted the occasional agent or two, but they no longer startled him. Strange as it seemed, they were becoming a very common sight in the city, milling around like army ants without a specific direction or goal, at least on the outside.

Expecting Duo to arrive a little while after the sun set, he whiled away the few hours in between with various activities, including going down to the basement gymnasium to practice some katas, and cleaning his revolver even though it hadn't been fired since the last time he cleaned it. Solid routines were still what kept him going when there was no pressing outside stimulus, and it never hurt to keep one's mind, body, and tools in top condition in preparation for the unknown.

Nothing out of the ordinary happened while he sat up in his room, waiting for Duo and playing a lively game of 'Bat the Yarn Ball' with Shadow back and forth across the hardwood floor, but as he was wont to do, he exited his suite and poked his head into the stairwell where he could see a large portion of the pub, and searched the crowd for his braided bunkmate. The anticipation of his arrival was a pleasant torture that he forced himself to endure for hours at a time, and normally, nothing could completely distract him from it, but that evening, history was made. As his gaze floated from face to face, the mix of the crowd changed. Two agents came straight through the front door of the pub and started sniffing around, first by glancing around the room benignly, and then by showing a squarish piece of paper to some of the regulars, asking them low-volume questions.

Heero's internal danger meter spiked. This was too close to be a coincidence, much too close. He held his breath as Catherine walked up to the men and offered them a drink as she would any other patron, but thankfully they didn't grill her for information. Heero had never once asked her to deliberately lie about his tenancy, but she often refused to give out such information all the same, and that sort of attitude didn't usually go over too well with agents. The bland-looking pair nodded and asked the proprietress for something simple to drink each, then went back to work as soon as she was gone. The third or fourth man they made inquiries of who wasn't already three sheets to the wind took one look at the paper they carried and nodded vigorously, pointing over his shoulder to the staircase.

Milliseconds before the agents could look up to the stairwell and see Heero's face, the ex-agent ducked back into the hallway, tensing up all over. It wasn't difficult to imagine that the paper they were showing around was his own photograph from Jeffrhyss' personnel files, which meant very bad things in his immediate future if they caught him there. He dashed back to his room and quietly locked the door behind him, just as the two agents were making their way up the stairs to investigate.

_Not good, not good, not good..._

They almost had him cornered, if not for the window. Heero inventoried the whole room in a flash, deciding what to take and what to leave behind. He couldn't leave Shadow alone, not knowing what sort of people might break into his room once he was safely gone, nor could he leave anything that would identify him, particularly his weapon and his notes. Most everything else could be attributed to Duo, since they could even wear the same size clothes, and it could appear as if Duo had been living there solo. He went to the window, opened it, and judged the drop to be about thirty feet, the same fall that had injured the chef.

_...very not good..._

Outside in the hall, the agents were knocking on doors, looking for him. With only seconds to think, Heero grabbed all of Shadow's feline paraphernalia, took it to the window, and tossed it outside piece by piece, hitting the nearby shrubs with yarn, a jingle ball, and all her other playthings. Then came Shadow herself, and he bundled her up in Duo's plaid blanket all the way up to her neck, then tried stuffing her into the old carpet bag. She was adamantly opposed to the idea, and quite probably would have clawed him in protest if her paws had been free, but he was too quick for her in an emergency situation. Heero whispered calming things to her, and regrettably had to tie the bag's handles shut with a belt from the wardrobe. Then he tied one sleeve of his jacket to the belt, the other sleeve to his gun holster, and finally added his obi, which he had taken to storing upstairs because Shadow liked to gnaw on the ends. The irony of this, when compared with his own admonitions to Duo that he not give up parts of his karate gi for kitty chew toys, was immaterial when faced with the happy realization that the chain just might reach the ground.

Ignoring Shadow's peeved growling noises, Heero hefted the wriggling carpet bag out onto the windowsill, and then over it, carefully passing the chain of fabric down hand over hand until he reached the very end. The bag was just a little ways off the ground, so he gave it a tiny swing and let go with a prayer. Shadow came to a cushioned landing a few feet horizontally offset from the window high up above, and Heero froze to listen for her angry snarls to make sure she was unharmed before deciding to follow.

The knocks and voices were getting closer. One agent was headed down toward Wufei's end of the hall, and the other was gaining on Heero. He made one last check of the room, blew out the lantern, and started climbing out the window just as a chill wind whipped across the back wall of the pub to complete the gut-wrenching effect. With tremendous precision, necessary to ensure that he landed next to the carpet bag and not on top of it, Heero levered himself out onto the windowsill and then crawled down so that he was hanging onto the brick protrusion by the tips of his fingers, plus one ankle. Reaching up with all his powers of balance, he managed to pull the window sash down a few inches to make it less obvious that someone had just exited the room that way, and then let his foot drop down next to the other one.

He kept checking the position of the carpet bag over and over, but a decision had to be made. He could hear the tenant of the next room being interviewed through the adjacent open window, and he would have just a few seconds between the closing of that door and the possible opening of his own to drop to the ground below. By now, his next door neighbour had most assuredly verified his residency to the agent, who would then break down the door, if necessary.

The conversation ended, and the door closed. Heero made one last check, hopping his aching hands further down the windowsill to put maximum lateral distance between himself and Shadow, and then let go. Recalling the skills he and Duo shared in secret, about pretending to be an uncoiled spring on the way down and then coiling back up on impact, Heero landed with significantly more finesse than Duo had inside the grandstand at Leeds. Without stopping to assess any damage to himself, he picked up as many of Shadow's things as he could find, picked up the carpet bag, and froze briefly as he detected the faint sounds of someone picking open the lock to his door. Without waiting to find out if the men were friendly or not, Heero fled the scene, quite possibly never to return.

A few blocks away, Heero stopped running and squatted in an alley to check on Shadow. By now, she had a terrible feeling that something was wrong. She had long since stopped growling and was now shaking slightly, frightened and confused at the way she had been savagely ripped from her happy home life yet again. Crouching in a dark corner, Heero opened the carpet bag, unfolded the blanket and gingerly lifted her out, painfully feeling every tremor in her tiny body. He clutched her close, but not too tight, and spoke to her in the nearest thing he could muster to a soothing tone. "Shh, sshhh, it's alright...I know.....I'm sorry."

He wasn't sure if she really understood, but she calmed down enough that he could carry her in one arm the rest of the way to wherever he was going, which wasn't decided yet. A long and arduous hike was embarked upon, down darkened streets in the general direction of Bridlewood, not knowing what would be there when he arrived. It must have been well past midnight when he finally dragged himself down the lane where the stately home sat, but before he even reached the property line, the sight of strangers milling around across the street from the manor scared him back into the shelter of a tall hedge. A terrible feeling came over him, that agents from all factions were closing in around him, that perhaps the retribution for his actions in Morocco had finally come. Now was not the time he wanted to face such repercussions, but he couldn't vanish into the city until Shadow was taken care of.

The fluffy grey cat had actually fallen asleep in Heero's arms, exhausted from her ordeal. She remained still while her pet carried her back down the road, around the block, and through Regents Park in an attempt to reach the house from the back yard. She stirred as he set her down on the ground while he had a quick peek over the wall, but something told him not to venture any further. By now, Duo was in enough danger after going to the pub and finding his room empty, and then he would probably come back to the house to look for his friend there. Heero's very presence now put everyone in great danger. He knew what he had to do.

Creeping along the wall up to Arthur's cottage, Heero woke Shadow and lifted her up while standing on tiptoe, nudging her sleepy form onto the wall. Then he tried to shoo her away. "Go on," he whispered, not stopping to wonder if she understood. "Go to Arthur...no, don't look at _me_, just go! Hurry!"

Shadow looked down at him, her turquoise eyes wide and glossy. For several seconds, she didn't move, perhaps hoping that it was all just a game and Heero would soon take her down off the wall and carry her inside. But finally she turned, sniffed around the wall a bit, padded over to the closest point to the roof of the cottage, and took a great leap forward, landing on the thatch with a little crunch. Still sniffing, the cat picked her way a few feet down the roof, then leapt down past the point where Heero could see, landing with a soft thump on what might have been a rain barrel. A final sound, low to the ground, suggested that she made it as far as the grassy carpet next to Arthur's garden, and Heero exhaled at last. Looking all around him for agents on the prowl, he gathered up the carpet bag and the makeshift rope, extracted his holster and jacket, and threw the rest over the wall, hoping that Duo would be able to read the clues as well as he always claimed he could when engrossed in his private detective fetish.

His mission complete, Heero took off like a shot through the sparse forest of the park, without a thought about where he was going or where he sould sleep that night. If the agents were just now wising up to his hideaway at the pub, it might be awhile before they found him at his new job, he reasoned, but how long that security would last, he couldn't say. His quick thinking had borrowed him a few days at the most, and after that, his fate was up in the air. The vultures were beginning to circle.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Eighty-Nine: Dorothy comes through with the information Relena requested, but it trickles down further than expected. Heero dares to visit Duo at the manor, but strategy is the last thing on his mind_

Wow...it feels good to actually meet a deadline for once. Of course, I'm royally PISSED OFF right now because I wasn't ALLOWED to go to the Stones concert A.K.A. "SARS-a-Palooza" or "SARS-stock"...I hate my life at the moment. Please send me your personal stories of massive disappointment so I can commisserate. :( Anywho...next episode will (hopefully) be out on August 12th. I'm signing out now, because it's late and I'm tired, yada yada yada. :P 


	89. Fly By Night

**Warning:** Shounen-ai content, and some..."suggestiveness". 

**Disclaimer:** These characters are used and abused without permission. But they enjoy it. =^_~=

**Note:** Due to scheduling screw-ups on my own part, the release dates of each episode may not exactly match the story dates listed after the literary quotation. Problems at home caused me to get out of sequence, but that hasn't changed what I believe should be the proper chronological flow of the story. Maybe I'll be able to get synchronized again, but if I don't, it's no biggie. Just wanted to let you all know. =^_~=

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Eighty-Nine: Fly By Night

_"All human joys are swift of wing, for heaven doth so allot it; That when you get an easy thing, you find you haven't got it." ~Eugene Field _

August 5th, 1903

Long after he was exhausted, Heero kept running. After dropping Shadow off at the manor, he realized suddenly that he was homeless, and that even if he found some puny corner of London to rest his head that night, he couldn't stay there for long. On top of that, he felt as if there were fiendish eyes following him everywhere he went. All the drunken vagrants, all the ladies of ill repute, all the thieves hiding in black alleys seemed to be watching, staring as if they knew him. The eerie, stomach-turning sensation stayed with him all the way to the newspaper office, where he broke in without a trace to curl up on the bare floor of the storage room. It turned out to be a long night.

Long before Heero got to an unsettled sleep, Duo was wringing his hands with grief and worry. He was kept at the house very late, late enough for Arthur to come tapping at the back door with Shadow in one arm before Duo could even entertain thoughts of going to the pub. The carpenter showed him the parephernalia that had been thrown over the back wall. Then Duo went straight to Catherine's in a panic and found their shared room torn to shreds, drawers emptied, clothes strewn about, and even the mattress overturned. The agents had taken their frustrations out on the furniture at not finding Heero where he was supposed to be.

The next day, it began to rain, a hard, driving rain that dragged the moisture-soaked air from the clouds down to ground level, where it was just warm enough to create a thick fog in between bouts of torrential downpour. Duo worried terribly that Heero had no place to go, and that he didn't have the necessary skills to live successfully as a hobo, but later that afternoon he was given a glimmer of hope by a hand-delivered item that arrived by the back door to the kitchen. A messenger boy brought Duo a copy of a small-town newspaper from the Camden neighbourhood, and Duo gradually recognized it as the one Heero worked for. Leaving Merlyn to tend to the lunch arrangements, he secluded himself in the cold storage room and read the whole thing from front to back, searching for a clue.

He found it in the agony column, and Heero's situation became clearer. He was apparently still working, and his position as proofreader allowed him to slip the occasional doctored item into the newspaper without detection. A small ad in the lonely hearts section read as follows:

_"LOST: My precious little mouse,  
violet eyes and long brown tail,  
miss him terribly."_

Sitting on the floor of the cold storage, Duo clutched the newspaper to his chest and smiled with relief. Heero was safe, for the moment, and even able to communicate in a roundabout way. For the next several days, Duo walked to the adjacent borough and bought a copy of that newspaper every morning, scouring the classified ads for more clues and hidden messages. He was even able to answer back by sending his own ads in, knowing that they would land on Heero's desk bright and early each day. With this system, they were able to talk without being in the same room, and plans were soon made that the whole of London might read, but would never understand.

**********  
  


The first telegram of the day on August the 5th was delivered as early as the milk and the newspaper, and its destination was Lady Une's mansion. Being in constant communication with his underlings spread throughout Britain, Treize attacked the front door before the clanging tones of the doorbell could dissipate down the many halls and staircases, anticipating the good news he had been waiting for. As he opened the envelope and read the telegram, he smiled. Very good news indeed.

Pride made him want to share his news with someone, but the only person in the house he could trust was his fiancée, and she found all the swashbuckling espionage stuff rather boring. Nevertheless, he sought her out, and located her in her pink and gold dressing room, having the first fitting of her costly imported wedding gown. "Darling?" he called as he rapped the back of his clenched hand against the door.

"Don't come in, you fool!" Lady Une's panicky voice called back.

Treize rolled his eyes and barged in anyway. His bride to be was standing in front of a three-way mirror in a satiny white mutton-sleeved dress with a long train and yards of lace spread out from the collar to the floor. Alfonse, her wardrobe consultant, was fluttering around her effortlessly, nipping in handfuls of fabric and pinning them in place. "You're at it a bit early, aren't you?" the Count remarked.

Une scowled at his reflection. "Idiot...it's bad luck to see the bride in her gown before the wedding."

"If I'm _paying_ for it, I should get to see it whenever I like," Treize snarked, walking up behind her.

"I don't know about these Swiss dressmakers of yours," Une sneered with displeasure, tugging at the high collar that was presently choking her. "Seems a bit too conservative for my taste."

"You can tart yourself up as much as you like between now and the wedding, but _first_ I must tell you some wonderful news..." He began unfolding the telegram but paused, glaring at the young man who was crouched at his love's feet, judging how much the dress should be hemmed. He cleared his throat gruffly.

Upon hearing this noise and seeing the way Treize was looking at her attendant, Une laughed and shoved him in the shoulder. "Oh, you can talk in front of Alfonse, don't be silly! Just make it quick, darling, I have a hair appointment before lunch."

He wasn't altogether happy, but Treize conceded that Alfonse, who did nothing but mince around the place babbling about the latest ladies' fashions and his own needlework projects, wasn't much of a security risk. The Count excitedly told a very bored Une about his upcoming feat, the disaster he planned to orchestrate for Cinq's amusement, and the details of which had just been confirmed by his outside agents. Une listened out of politeness but didn't take any of it in; she never had truly grasped the seriousness of Treize's goal in life, for anything to do with politics or world affairs was, in her opinion, quite tiresome. While the plan was put forth, Alfonse kept his head down, pinning fabric until all was completed, and then he left to fetch something he needed from the linen closet in the hall.

Alfonse looked over his shoulder nervously once or twice as he padded away from the dressing room in his royal purple embroidered slippers. He felt rather unfortunate, in some ways, to be living under that particular roof, but it was too late to escape. Trying to act normal, he opened the door to the linen cupboard and took out a few miscellaneous items, eventually thinking that he just might make it through the day without any serious shocks. And then he closed the door.

Dorothy was standing behind it. Alfonse gasped and nearly dropped what he was carrying as the girl leaned in close with a catty smile. "Hello, Alfonse," she purred, looking quite glamourous in a dress of pale green silk with her flaxen hair draped elegantly down her front, accentuating every curve. She looked much healthier than she did a week ago. "Do you have anything for me yet?"

Alfonse trembled with fear. This delicate young lady had hopelessly ensnared him into a myriad of evil dealings that he wanted nothing to do with. She followed him out of the house once. She knew where he went on his days off. She knew whose company he kept when he spent his nights elsewhere. She knew that Alfonse was the frequent, secret, and most definitely illegal lover of a prominent male wrestler, and if Alfonse didn't do _exactly_ as Dorothy said, she promised to expose them both.

There was no other option. Alfonse took Dorothy aside and told her everything he heard Treize say in the dressing room.

**********  
  


The rain persisted for days and days, beginning as a vertical flood and slowing to a depressing drizzle as summer showed its true colours. Duo kept a careful eye on the weather, and his other eye on Otto and Bertram Augustus, as they seemed to be planning something. Through careful eavesdropping, the chef learned that the two men would be absent on a particular day to attend a large estate auction to the south. They were planning on purchasing some pieces of art such as vases and paintings to be placed in Sutherby House, which was nearly ready for its official opening as a hotel and health spa. They would be gone all day, which made it slightly safer for Heero to visit Bridlewood without fear of the police being called. Duo successfully persuaded the women of the household that they deserved a girls' day out and that they wouldn't be caught skiving off work if the authority figures were ninety miles away in Hampshire. The ladies agreed and hit the town, with Hilde's assurance that she would keep them occupied as long as possible, leaving Duo, Quatre, and Trowa alone in the house.

The other two were off attending to matters of their own, so Duo didn't make a point of telling them that Heero was hopefully on his way. Instead he silently planted himself by the front parlour window, anxiously waiting. He didn't know what sort of tricks Heero would have to pull in order to elude the agents that were most certainly watching the manor every hour of the day, but he couldn't wait to find out.

Out of nowhere, Heero came jogging down the street in his older black suit, having long ago been thoroughly drenched en route to the manor. The front door opened for him automatically, and Duo poked his head out to marvel at how easily Heero was able to jaunt up the steps unimpeded. Nobody was watching him, nobody followed him, and it was smooth sailing for once in a large number of days. Panting from his extended sprint across town, Heero stopped as far as the mat just on the other side of the door, leaned forward with his hands on his knees, and caught his breath while dripping profusely from every limb.

Duo gawked once more at the lack of agents outside, shut the door, and bear hugged Heero as soon as he straightened up, not caring about getting soaking wet as well. "How did you do that!?" he hollered. "They're not all afraid of a little summer shower, are they?"

After chuckling and peeling Duo off him, Heero wiped half a gallon of water off his face and slicked-down hair, shaking droplets onto the mat as he glanced across the room. "Well, you know...you meet a lot of interesting people in the newspaper industry...for instance, I just recently made the acquaintance of a very lovely girl working at the Times..."

Duo smirked. "Uh oh..."

"...and after a few glasses of wine, she was _more_ than agreeable to the idea of planting a false news item in today's edition," Heero finished. "As far as anyone chasing me knows, the Crown Prince Nakamura is making a series of royal visits across Europe, and theoretically arrived in London early this morning. Every agent within fifty miles is camped outside Buckhingham Palace looking for me, in case I throw myself on the Prince's mercy and beg him to take me back to Japan with him."

While Heero dragged off his sopping wet jacket, Duo marvelled at the scope and simple elegance of the ruse. "...there's a Crown Prince Nakamura?"

Heero shrugged as the tie came off next. "I don't know that there _isn't_ one, and I don't expect the average agent does either. Hardly matters in any case, because by the time they realize they've been had, I'll be safely back at the office." A smug smile appeared on his face, and as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his socks squished loudly in his shoes, and Duo broke down laughing. Their situation was both sad and ludicrous. It felt like some kind of boiling point was fast approaching, and with increased stress levels came a desperate need to let go of the moment, to separate themselves from ugly realities and retreat to their quiet place, but it didn't stay quiet for long until the cold and the rain finally got to Heero, and he sneezed.

"Aww...poor baby," Duo coddled sarcastically, and he let Heero lean against him while he struggled to remove his shoes and socks. "I predict a hot bath in your future. You go pick yourself out one of the more expensive bathrooms upstairs, and I'll start some water boiling."

Grunting and sniffling a bit, Heero nodded. "Maybe that's best."

Duo worked hard to take the very best care of his friend, otherwise he might well have caught an awful cold from the inclement weather. He found some dry clothes while Heero was scrubbing himself down in the tub, and hung the wet clothes up to dry in the laundry room. Then he poured no less than three cups of hot cocoa down Heero's throat in front of a roaring fire, and the ex-butler didn't know what to make of being so vigorously pampered after spending so many nights on the office floor. Usually when Heero wanted to pay Duo back for his regular everyday kindness, he brought him some candy, but living rough didn't allow for such luxuries, so he had to think for a bit until he remembered something else he was good at besides counting out lemon drops and licorice whips into little brown paper bags. He beckoned Duo to follow, and led him to the parlour.

"I want to show you something," he said in answer to Duo's questioning glance. In the parlour was the same piano Heero had tinkered with at Christmas, and when he inspected the padded piano bench, he found that it opened up in the same way that the one at Catherine's did, and that there was music inside. Duo watched quizzically as Heero flipped through the crinkly paper leaves and pulled out something by Chopin, propping it up on the stand above the keyboard. Then he closed the bench back up and invited Duo to sit next to him, which he did, all the while bursting with curiosity about what would happen next.

With a quiet sense of pride, Heero laid both hands on the keyboard and began to play. It was the most astonishing thing Duo had ever heard. The automaton mind that couldn't fathom how to sing hymns at a church service less than a year ago was now pealing forth with a beautiful, multi-tonal melody that seemed to have descended from heaven itself. Washed over with deep relaxation, Duo gradually leaned his head on Heero's shoulder, and it stayed there for the duration of the song. When the last chord faded, Duo sat back up to hear whatever Heero had to say about this miraculous transformation, and the work he must have put into it over the weeks. "They used to leave me alone for days at a stretch...to test my mental stamina," he stated with an eyebrow shrug, and then a smile. "Now I get bored _so_ fast."

_'Wow'_ was all Duo could think, all he could hear, and all he showed on his face. "That's really something. I mean, not just for you, but for _anyone_."

"Do you like it?"

"Hell, yeah." Duo more than liked it, he was completely besotted. Suddenly he had to get himself as close as possible to this new incarnation of his friend, and it gave him a wicked impulse. The chef smiled and looked down, feigning shyness. "They just painted our old room, y'know...this real ugly white that's identical to the old white except there's no mildew." The smile grew as he slipped an arm around Heero's waist and squeezed, leaning into his side. "Wanna see it?"

Heero could tell from that smile that if they went upstairs now, watching paint dry would be the last thing they'd do. He smiled too. "Hell, yeah." And then they tip-toed up to the attic together.

**********  
  


Lucrezia and Milliardo couldn't even talk anymore without arguing. Their vastly different opinions on how to approach the Cinq problem made it impossible for them to share even the most basic of conversations, and Lucrezia had even stopped sleeping in the same room with him in protest. Now they were sitting opposite each other in the private parlour, avoiding eye contact at all cost. Sutherby House had endured a long series of renovations and come out sparkling, and among the improvements added were extra walls and doors on each level, meant to separate the family's living space from the more public areas. It was in this sanctuary that Lucrezia and Milliardo sat and ignored each other for at least a small part of every day.

They perched in identical brown suede art deco lounge chairs, with the lady pretending to enjoy flipping through a fashion magazine and the gentleman feigning interest in the local newspaper. Everything they could have said had already been said, but the battle waged on, trapped inside their own minds.

Every few pages, Lucrezia glanced up at him. _I'm not going to shout anymore, because I know you won't hear me anyway. You've done nothing but talk at me, but you never tell me what I want to know, like why you think it's your job to save the whole world. And you have all these noble goals...which is fine, except for the way you go about chasing them. Joining these madmen is the worst possible thing you could do. How do you know you'll be able to stay objective? To set yourself apart? To avoid really becoming one of them? I'm so afraid for you...I'm afraid that once you get a taste of true power....._ She couldn't bring herself to even think about what might happen. It was too painful to consider.

On his side of the room, Milliardo also looked up from his reading material, carrying on his own point of view in a similar fashion. _How do I get through to you? I didn't choose this battle, but I can't possibly walk away. I'm not so unfeeling, so irresponsible that I would lie down and let these people play puppeteer with millions of lives. 'In the world, but not of the world'...that's the key. There's no possible way to bring them down from the outside, it can't be done. If these men have eluded the police, the military, the governments of the entire world for so long, a few people beating on the door with sticks aren't going to make one bit of difference. I have to become one of them...there is no other way._

They were both so engrossed in declaring themselves the victor of their mental skirmish that they didn't notice the doorbell, or the entrance of Otto and the new butler, with Pegan showing the way into the parlour. Not paying attention to what day it was, Milliardo looked up with slight surprise, and frowned. "What are you two doing here?"

Otto approached his master with faint meekness, as if not wanting to upset the young man quite yet. "We're just stopping off here for a cup of tea before heading out to the coast." When Milliardo failed to display recognition of what Otto was talking about, he leaned forward a little, arching his eyebrows. "The estate auction?"

A disinterested dawn crossed Milliardo's face, and he nodded, straightening out his newspaper with a crackle. "Yes, I...do recall that, now."

"Is there anything in particular you'd like us to look for?" Otto asked obseqiously.

"Everything pertaining to redecoration is Relena's responsibility," Milliardo replied blandly, and he went back to his local news as quickly as he had been dragged away from it.

Off in the corner, Pegan and Bertram Augustus introduced themselves to one another and mutually retreated to look after the arrangements for morning tea, but Otto could not follow. The strange aloofness shown to him by his employer was disturbing, and it hadn't started just then, either. Milliardo had been giving Otto the cold shoulder for some time now, and he couldn't work out why; he would have liked to discuss it with him, but didn't feel comfortable with Lucrezia in the same room. To her credit, Lucrezia picked up on this vibe, and got up and left of her own volition, giving Otto the space he needed to lay out his thoughts in a straight line. The burly house steward stepped a bit closer to Milliardo's chair, and cleared his throat gently. "Sir..."

"Spit it out," said Milliardo.

"These...'plans' of yours.......I'm always available if you need me in any way."

Young Master Peacecraft looked up at last, narrowing his eyes with a half-smile that didn't look friendly at all. "That's very interesting. And in what capacity would you most like to serve?"

"Well...in whatever capacity you see fit, sir. It's not for me to choose, and I know how important this is to you...to all of us." The awkward pause grated on Otto's nerves, and his voice sharpened suddenly. "Your family has nothing but my utmost loyalty, you _know_ that!"

Milliardo set the newspaper aside and stood, glowering horribly at his servant. "Do I?" This time, Otto wore the confused expression, but Milliardo wasn't buying it. "Why do you think I've assigned you to mind the children while we conduct mission operations from here? Uncle Treize had limited power when he first arrived in England. Some of what he did, he couldn't have done without help."

Otto's stomach lurched. Since he had clammed up pretty solidly about his erstwhile partnership with Treize, and since the lad wasn't communicating with his uncle himself, there was no way of knowing how much Milliardo knew or from whom he heard it. "I _swear_ to you, I _did not know_ his true motives at the time! My only thoughts were for Relena's safety, and he _helped_ me watch over her!"

"Ignorance is just as deadly as malice, Otto. I can't afford a liability like you right now." With that, Milliardo sat back down and returned to his newspaper, the subject closed. "You'll be late for your auction."

Irreversibly crushed, Otto retreated from the parlour in shame. All his years of loyal service to the family, full of sacrifice and stress, suddenly counted for nothing. He had lost the trust of his most valuable ally, possibly forever. At some point during their exchange, the doorbell rang again, but they didn't hear it. Some moments after Otto disappeared dejectedly down the hall, thinking that he might as well not bother speaking to his employer on a personal level ever again, Relena entered the parlour. She was pleased to find her brother all alone, for she had something very exciting to share, in the form of a telegram that had just been delivered to the front door. It was from Dorothy, but she wasn't about to tell him that.

"I have news," she cooed sweetly, waving the telegram around like a little flag.

"I could use some about now," her brother groaned.

"It's from a contact I've established in Lady Une's mansion," she declared secretively, unwilling to reveal her source. "Once you've had a look at it, I think I should send the details to our friends in London right away."

She gave him the telegram, and he read it over thoroughly. At the end, he looked up with fierce eyes. It was just the break they needed after failing so badly in Leeds. The siblings locked gazes and traded sinister smiles as they realized they were both thinking the same thing: Their window of glory was fast approaching, and this time, nothing would stand in their way.

**********  
  


A long time passed after the boys crept upstairs to their old room. At first the rain intensified, beating against the window with inch-thick drops, but then, as if mimicking the scene indoors, after building up to a thundering climax, the weather settled itself. Soft, misty trickles of water replaced the storm, and outside the birds began to sing their thanks for the refreshing shower.

The sweet, warbling songs wafted up to the attic and slowly nudged the boys awake. They were curled up on their old bed, the rickety iron-framed double-sized bunk which had been stripped down to the mattress while the room was painted. Both were lying on their right sides, bare from the waist up with Heero lazily holding onto Duo from behind. Whatever had occured prior to the rain slowing down, they had somehow managed to switch trousers, which were unnaturally rumpled. Duo's hair had been freed from its braid and lay in a tumble beneath him, and Heero appeared equally mussed-up. A faint but pleasant floral fragrance was also drifing around the tiny room, emanating from something that had rolled under the bed after being deliberately dropped when it was no longer needed, but the details of the boys' environment all blurred together until they were no longer recognizable as small parts of a larger whole. The climate of blissful euphoria took care of that.

Stirring out of sleep, Heero spontaneously yawned, and then reached a little further around Duo's chest to pull him closer. Duo squeaked softly in his mouse-like way and clutched Heero's arm with one hand while shielding his eyes from the light with the other. As Heero became steadily more aware of their time and circumstance, he yawned again and brushed some hair away from Duo's ear with his nose. "You know what time they get back?" he whispered.

"...mmmrr.....no," Duo mumbled back drowsily.

Heero's inner cynic scoffed quietly. "It'd make sense...for them to walk back in.....right when everything's perfect." Then it grew in volume, reminding him that every lovely thing that was happening that day was just window dressing for the life of a fugitive. When he walked out the front door later on, he would become hopelessly miserable once again, perpetually on edge from the threats that surrounded him on all sides. A sensuous afternoon romp with Duo was quite pleasant, but it was by no means a permanent solution. "It's not perfect," he muttered depressingly.

"...mmh...we're all doing our best," Duo mumbled further.

While Duo was probably just lying there angelically without a care in the world, Heero started thinking about all the things he had done in the past that might have contributed to his current predicament. Being out in the real world taught him a great deal about cause and effect, more than mere training ever could, and as he mulled over his own actions, a single theme became piercingly clear, and he thought to himself that it just might be the cause of all his problems. "I use people."

Duo blinked, then twisted his head back to look at him out of the corner of his eye. "Hell of a time to get introspective on me," he said, rolling over onto his left side "So you use people. That's, like...your _job_. You _have_ to do it."

They both propped themselves up on one elbow, and Heero looked down at the bed, feeling suddenly unworthy to look Duo in the eye. "Not all the time. But I do it anyway. When I left Catherine's, it was four days until my next paycheque, and most of my money was in the top drawer of the bureau, but I had enough to get by without starving...and I saw this little brunette coming out of a bakery. I wasn't hungry, not _really_ hungry, the way you must have been...but I still went up to her and turned on the charm. Talked her out of two Eccles cakes and a hot sausage roll." He slowly sighed, and then looked up at last. "Why would I do that?"

Duo's face contorted into the hands-free equivalent of scratching his head and pacing in a puzzled way, then he made an educated guess with apologetic eyes. "Because you could?"

"That's right. And I'll be honest with you, there have been several days lately when I haven't liked myself very much as a result." Something new appeared in Heero's deck of doubts. Duo saw it, and Heero saw it reflected in his eyes. "I manipulate people because I can, and when you do something so often without even thinking.....you..."

He couldn't finish, but he didn't have to. Duo smirked widely and pulled his hair off to one side as he leaned in closer, making sure that Heero couldn't look away. "Are you worried that you're using _me_ right now?" he asked. "Lemmie tell ya something," he added when he didn't get an answer right away. He sat up cross-legged and started a new braid as he lectured. "This could be exactly why we get along so well, because you _can't_ twist me in eight different directions like you can other people. You _know darn well_ that those goo-goo eyes and pretty words won't work on me, and they never will. Go on...say to me what you said to that brunette. Try it!"

Heero sat up in the same way and faced Duo, always up for a challenge. He cleared his throat, rubbed his hands together briskly, and knit his brow as if calculating his opening attack, just as if Duo was any other bit of fluff walking down the street, a weak mind ripe for the plucking. But he couldn't move or speak. He blinked at Duo for awhile, then tried several times to say something, each time stopping short of emitting any sound. No less than a dozen times, he changed his mind on which line to throw him, but in the end, he caved under the pressure of Duo staring at him expectantly, and collapsed forward with a sniggering laugh, which infected Duo almost immediately. "I can't!" he exclaimed.

"Why not?" Duo shot back while laughing.

Calming himself down but still grinning slightly, Heero looked to either side as he thought. The answer was so simple that he couldn't even justify the breath necessary to verbalize it. The bonds of respect and affection would keep him in line, and he needn't have feared the insurgence of lies from other parts of his life. His gaze softened. "I just can't."

Having gotten the unspoken answer loud and clear, Duo tied off the end of his braid and let it dangle back into place. "So what have you been eating besides second-hand pastries?"

"Nothing yet that can hold a candle to your cooking," Heero said, and he meant it in earnest.

"I just had a thought," Duo said in a sly tone that quickly transmuted into a colourful sales pitch. "There's this big inch-thick steak sitting in the icebox, and it was supposed to be Otto's dinner, but I think I should tell him that it looked a little green and I had to dispose of it elsewhere...you hungry?"

Heero's eyes lit up, and his stomach threatened to start growling loudly at the merest mention of a home-cooked meal. "With those little roasted potatoes, and that cheddar mushroom sauce?"

"And peach cobbler for dessert," Duo added teasingly.

".....I don't deserve you," Heero sighed happily.

"Well, we all need a goal to shoot for," Duo snarked, and they chuckled to themelves as they cleaned up the room to disguise their presence before heading downstairs for another well-deserved luxury.

**********  
  


It was just about the time when the rain let up that Quatre made it back to the manor, his mood dampened beyond the capabilities of mere water. The news from his sisters was not good, and he carried a copied-out telegram as proof of that fact. Having the good sense to take an umbrella along, only the cuffs of his trousers were wet when he walked back in through the kitchen door. He knew Merlyn and the housemaids were out somewhere, but didn't really notice why, and they were the last people he needed to talk to anyway. Tossing the folded umbrella in the corner next to the hat stand, he marched straight into his and Trowa's bedroom, only to lose his train of thought to a bizarre surprise.

Trowa was lying down flat on a narrow bench with no back, hefting a barbell with round metal weights up as far as he could reach and then down to his nose, then back again. In fact, there was an awful lot of new toys in the room, all geared toward weightlifting. Even his clothes were different, the green and beige having been replaced with loose-fitting tawny brown trousers and a white sleeveless kind of shirt that provided the ventilation and mobility needed for a good workout. Quatre swallowed; suddenly his bedroom was a gymnasium. "Um..."

"Be with you in a sec," Trowa blurted out in a hasty breath, and he grimaced with the effort of placing the bar back on its stand. Quatre glanced at the white numbers painted on each of the metal discs attached to the bar and added it up to be more than a hundred pounds. His eyebrows flicked upward as Trowa sat up, reached for a towel, and daubed at his face and neck with it. "What do you think?"

Quatre looked at the barbells, the dumbbells, the jump rope, the boxing gloves, and the heavy bag which had no place to hang and was lying on its side against the wall with the window, and was befuddled. "First tell me what it is."

Trowa shrugged. "Just a whim. It dawned on me that I'm always saving my money but I never buy anything with it. Duo buys kitchen gadgets, and you buy books...I thought it was time to get something for myself, that's all." He accompanied his declaration with a rare toothy grin, indicating genuine enthusiasm for something other than animals and sitting quietly. It was unnecessary to admit that he might have enjoyed looking like some of the nude models in the big black book, and that it was this feeling of inadequacy that drove him to seek out exercise equipment. He figured if Quatre really wanted to know, he could find out for himself just as easily. "Out for a walk?"

"Out talking to my sisters," Quatre corrected dully, pulling a folded piece of paper from his pocket. "We've got a problem...or an opportunity, however you want to look at it."

His tone of voice was reason enough to pause for thought. "Is this something we should discuss with Heero?"

Quatre's eyes bugged out. "He's _here_? When did he get here? Why didn't anyone tell me?"

Trowa shrugged with a 'What are you asking _me_ for?' look. "I don't know how long he's been hanging around, but I just saw him and Duo out back a few minutes ago, while I was getting a drink."

They looked at each other, then looked at the door at the same moment that they heard someone coming in through the kitchen, picking up some things, and walking back out again. The pair went out in unison and saw Duo and Heero, as advertised, walking with armfuls of stuff toward the back of the property, and they seemed to be aiming for Arthur's cottage. It was getting pretty near tea time, so it was odd for Duo not to be at his post, fixing a meal for everybody. Being of one mind, Trowa and Quatre decided to follow them, and upon reaching the cottage, they saw that a whole outdoor barbeque had been set up, with a charcoal grill and everything. Hearing the crunch of dried grass behind him, Duo turned around after setting a box full of meat packed in ice down on a table Arthur had set up with barrels all around to sit on, and grinned at seeing the pair. "Hey! Great! Saves me the trouble of calling you to the table. Pull up a barrel!"

The two boys were too stunned to answer right away. Since they were the only ones home at the present, Duo and Arthur had gone to an awful lot of trouble to prepare a special treat just for them. There were fresh salads, pitchers of lemonade and iced tea, and the soothing shade of the old growth trees on either side of the brick wall. Not only that, but the sun was coming out at last. "What's all this?" Quatre asked in disbelief.

"Cookout!" Duo cheered. "Away from the prying eyes, and such. You want a lamb kebab?"

It all looked very tempting, with Arthur already grilling slabs of every conceivable animal to Duo's specifications. Heero was already halfway through what appeared to be a generous steak, which he must have needed very badly, judging by the rate at which he consumed it. Still, Quatre didn't have much of an appetite yet. "I don't think I'll be able to eat until I tell you all what I found out today..."

"Does this have to be right now?" Heero moaned around a mouthful of beef. "First cooked meal I've had in ages...I'm not ready to think about work yet."

Still clutching his precious piece of paper, Quatre perched his hands on his hips and scowled. "I'm surprised at you! Since when do you put _eating_ ahead of important breakthroughs pertaining to the mission!?"

"Since he hasn't heard what it is yet," Trowa remarked, reaching for a plate to put his first pork chop on.

"Aw, sit yeself doon an' have somethin' to eat before th' rain starts up agin!" said Arthur, turning over some sausages to make room for the kebab.

Eventually, the sight of everyone lounging around on barrel chairs and stuffing their faces depressed Quatre to the point that he gave in, and sat down to start picking at a bowl of fresh coleslaw. The sight of his pitiful self agonizing over being ignored got to Heero, and he put his fork down at last. "Alright, what have you found out?"

Swiftly recharged, Quatre shot straight up in his seat and leaned over the table with fresh enthusiasm. "I went to visit the girls as usual, and Yasmeen had just gotten a telegram from Relena. They weren't going to tell me about it, but Hessa's very guilt-ridden right now, so she secretly copied it out for me. Relena got it from someone who got it directly from Treize, and no one at any level thinks that the information stopped at their front door." He unfolded the paper in his hands, but didn't turn it over to anyone, wanting to verbally cushion the blow somehow. "Treize has scheduled his feat, and Milliardo is going to try and steal it away from him. If we intervene soon enough, we can stop them _both_ from doing something really terrible."

Duo looked up while dishing himself out some macaroni salad to go with his frankfurter. "How terrible? And keep in mind that we've all seen terrible, we know what it looks like."

Quatre passed the note across the table to Heero, and waited while he read the first two lines bearing the name of a location somewhere in England. "This is the target...a railway tunnel to the west. There's a single track that runs through it, and it mostly hauls cargo to and from Wales. Treize's plan is to divert a passenger train through the tunnel at the same time as a cargo train will be headed in from the opposite direction...and deliberately crash them together."

Trowa seemed unconvinced, and didn't respond until he'd swallowed a healthy-sized mouthful. "Sounds like a tall order to me. Is he sure he can do it?"

"Actually, it's not all that uncommon. I stopped off at the library on the way home and picked up some figures...wish I didn't have to know about this stuff..." From the other pocket, Quatre produced a smaller piece of paper, ripped out of a notebook, with some facts jotted onto it by the librarian. "Since 1842, there's been an average of one major railway disaster every year in Britain, including four tunnel collapses, thirteen derailments and over forty collisions. When you find out just how easily these sort of accidents can happen, it's not too hard to think of someone planning one on purpose."

They ate quietly for a little while longer, speaking little and watching Shadow chase a moth around a small patch of lawn while the depth of the problem sank in. In the past, Heero would have needed to rally support from his troops, but after what they had all been through together, he knew he had it regardless. As he looked around at everyone's faces, he didn't see questions about what they should or shouldn't do, but curiosity about how soon they could get started. On the telegram copy was a date and a place, committing them to act or be acted upon, and for once there were no doubts, at least among those assembled. The problem was, in Heero's view, how to co-ordinate a team effort when he couldn't even gather his team in the same place without endangering all their lives. Now the enemy agents following him were a serious inconvenience.

**********  
  


As much as Heero wanted to stay right where he was, he knew it was too dangerous. The agents would be returning to their surveillance posts, and he had to get back to the newspaper office before his escape routes were blocked. He left soon after dinner, while it was still light out, to best ensure that he would disappear before Otto returned, and it worked.

The most difficult part of his trek was putting the pleasant memories of the day out of his mind. They were very distracting, and any drop in his focus might have caused him to not see someone tailing him, or to miss an important shortcut. No such incidents occurred, but it didn't come without a cost. In his effort to find a place in his mind where he could achieve total focus, he stumbled across something he hadn't heard himself think in a long time.

_'Peace comes from harmony...'_

Heero slowed his gait, glancing around him as if someone else had spoken the words aloud. He saw no one but a few ordinary citizens daring to step out of their shops and homes while there was a brief pause in the rain. Thinking it might have just been a stray thought that would not re-occur, he kept on walking, but in a few moments' time he fell into the same trap, and the internal voice spoke again.

_'...harmony comes from oneness...oneness comes from obedience...'_

He stopped in an alley and flattened himself against a brick wall. _Now let's get one thing straight,_ he told himself, hoping that the part of him making that annoying noise would hear him. _Dredging up Jeffrhyss' old nonsense isn't going to do one bit of good. I like it here. I'm not going back, and there's nothing you can do or say to make me change my mind._ A long silence followed, long enough to convince him that the intrusion was over. _That's better._ And he kept on walking. 

When he neared the newspaper office, he was thinking more about arranging his next day off than about what he might find when he got there, and so he was taken somewhat by surprise. From two blocks away, he saw strangers hanging around the brownstone building, and their general manner suggested that they weren't cub reporters comparing notes. Then more men joined them from across the street. There were no fewer than a dozen cold-faced men wandering around the outside of the building, checking the doors and windows, casing the surrounding edifices, even climbing the drainpipes to get a look inside. A sinking feeling built up in Heero's stomach as he realized they must be agents.

_...I'm too late...I've got nowhere to go now..._

As he turned around and walked inconspicuously away, he knew his time was running out. He didn't _want_ to go back to his old life, but if this siege of unfriendly agents persisted, the odds of having a choice would continue to decrease. Now he couldn't go to the pub, or the manor, and in a few days he would lose his job due to an extended an unexplained absense which his employer would misconstrue as quitting. That meant no more notes to Duo. No more money for food. No more safe sleep. No more anything.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Ninety: Treize and Milliardo simultaneously go after the same deadly goal, and Heero's team is on the scene to interfere, but it may be the end of the line for one of its members. _

So...living in England? Heh heh heh...hot enough for ya!? XD ...I'm sorry, that was mean, but you're having the kind of summer I want, and I'm having the kind of summer you expected. Rain, rain, and more rain. My dinner's cold, so I'll keep this short. Next episode will be August 21st. Don't miss it. Seriously.

  


(*HINT*: ...Heero's in deep sh*t next week.)


	90. The Tragic Downfall of Heero Yuy

**Foreword:** =^_^= *sniffle* You love me! You really love me! *bawls* I've only just noticed, at the eleventh hour, that my 20GB quota was just used up. How sweet! (I get sentimental over weird things.) But it means I haven't lost all my readers, which was something I was really, truly scared about. It's been two months, after all...my personal life never should have intruded on the story, but it did, and now I've shoved it back to where it ought to be, and things are looking up, sorta. Thanks, everybody, for the kind support. =) Love ya.

**Warning:** Violence, substance abuse, dangerous behaviour that should NOT be imitated. 

**Disclaimer:** These characters are used and abused without permission. But they enjoy it. =^_~=

**Note:** Of course, the train tunnel is fictional, as are the villages, the specific tracks, and the signal boxes, although those things weren't at all uncommon at the time. =^_~=

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Ninety: The Tragic Downfall of Heero Yuy

_"Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts." ~Sir Winston Churchill _

August 16th, 1903

_~*~ Act One ~*~_

Without any other place to go, Heero was cast out into the streets. The difficult part about that was that he had resolved not to abuse his powers of persuasion, not for anything. Once the roving agents chased him away from the office, he was without food, without lodging, and utterly alone, unwilling to risk even the smallest amount of human contact for fear that the temptation to wheedle meat or drink out of them would be too great. He took it as a personal challenge, and if it meant that he went hungry for a short while, so it would be. Unfortunately, the agents tailing him weren't likely to be satisfied with waiting a short while to catch him--if the chase continued more than a few days longer, he thought, there was no guarantee that he would be able to elude them on an empty stomach.

Sneaking back into the neighbourhood surrounding the newspaper office the next evening, he dug a copy of the late edition out of the trash bin on a street corner, scurrying away into an alley to read it in peace. He turned immediately to the agony column and found a message from Duo, obviously edited by someone else along with all the other articles and advertisements. The chef was asking for a sign, in their coded language, that Heero was alright, but as he slumped against the brick wall and hung his head, he realized there was no way to answer. There was no telegraph office or hotel with a telephone in it that didn't have a small, scattered swarm of agents milling around, trying to force him into daylight. Even showing his face anywhere near the manor was out of the question, so not only was there no way to reassure Duo that he wasn't lying in the gutter somewhere, it was also impossible to co-ordinate his team for the upcoming dual feat of Count Khushrenada and Milliardo Peacecraft. Heero soon began to see himself as a liability, dragging his friends down towards ultimate defeat.

The next day, he was slightly more upbeat, having gotten a full night's sleep under some dear old lady's front porch, behind the trellis, to which she was none the wiser. It was dark, damp and chilly, and Heero was sure there were more than a few dead rats to be found, but it was quiet and relatively safe, which was good enough. When he emerged and sought out another copy of his newspaper, there was a pleasant surprise. Another message from Duo, but this one had a much different tone to it:

From Mouse to Tiger:  
I hid my cheese behind  
a loose brick in our station.  
If you find it, chow down!

That sounded fascinating. Heero paced in the alley for a moment or two, thinking about the verbal breadcrumb trail, and concluded that 'our station' must have meant Marlborough Road, where he led Duo on a merry chase of clues and puzzles, where they hid, where they kissed, and where an exciting new chapter in their friendship began. There was already a detailed map of London inside his head, so he hastened to the station, dodging agents along the way. It appeared just as it did the last time he was there, with double train tracks running between two broken-down platforms and disappearing down tunnels in either direction, canopied by hulking brick arches. When the very next train pulled up to exchange a load of passengers, he used the distraction to slip past the civillian guards and hop the fence that kept people from falling down into the railway ditch. From there, he ducked down below the level of the passenger car windows and jogged deeper into the tunnel, to the point where their game of follow-the-leader ended the first time.

There were no lights in the tunnel, so he picked his way over to a random wall and began feeling up and down the slightly curved brick surface. He was at it for less than five minutes before he found a brick that protruded about half an inch, and wiggled in its concrete socket. Some sharp chisel marks surrounded it, where someone with a history of chipping at stones had literally carved a niche into the wall and replaced the broken brick with one of similar size and shape, but definitely of a different lot. A bit of brick rubble at Heero's feet confirmed it. This was what he was looking for.

He pried the brick away. Behind it was a tiny leather pouch that jingled when picked up, and a very pleasant jingle it was indeed! He ran back out of the tunnel, back up on the platform and out of the station before any of the railway police could catch him amidst the mid-day crowd. As soon as he was safely away, he stopped to look inside the pouch, finding a few meagre coins and a note from Duo. Heero smiled faintly as he read the note, saving Duo's comforting words for himself alone. Duo of all people knew exactly what he was going through, scrounging for food and shelter, and the suggestion that he could tell Catherine to leave a few fresh-baked pies on the windowsill of the pub actually made Heero laugh briefly. For the next several days, this was how Duo looked after his friend at a distance, providing him with as much money as he was able so that he wouldn't go hungry. It wasn't enough for a hotel room, or even a few strong drinks, but at least upon sneaking into the train tunnel and finding the brick moved day after day, Duo had the comfort of knowing that Heero wouldn't starve.

**********  
  


Dawn on the day of reckoning came quietly, heralded by lavender-orange hues painted across the sky and the thankful chirping of sparrows rising from their roosts. Odd in more ways than could be easily counted, several independant groups were turning their attention to the region of Shropshire that morning, all with a slightly different goal in mind. Over breakfast, they all finalized their plans and made their travel arrangements, finely polishing every last detail to make sure that absolutely nothing could go wrong...all of them, except the batch at Bridlewood.

Duo was quite good at looking after Heero's needs, and at the one-way communication that went with it, but his leadership skills were somewhat lacking. As the specified day approached, the team sank into a continually deepening dither, paralyzed without their trusted general. They only had a vague idea of what needed to be done, and no clue whatsoever about how to do it. The trickled-down telegram told the world that Treize would be attempting to crash two trains together in a tunnel somewhere west of Birmingham, and that Milliardo would be doing something to hijack the feat for himself, but that was all the information they had. Several times Quatre went to his sisters, prying and jimmying with words in case they let something slip, but they weren't budging. After discovering that Hessa leaked the information in the first place, they had lectured her soundly about the importance of keeping their dealings a secret, even from other members of the family, so she wasn't about to divulge details like that ever again, and nor would the others.

Trying to help, Trowa dug out a book of maps from the attic, and they found a thorough diagram of the pertinent area with all the railroad tracks marked. Sally had dragged Wufei in at Duo's request, and the six of them all stood around a temporary table set up in the cold storage, studying the map by the light of a gas lantern hanging from a hook in the ceiling. Before they could really get started, though, Trowa had to teach those less familiar with cartography how to actually read the document. Duo wasn't doing so well. "Okay...waitaminute...so, the north side of the map always goes up?" he asked innocently.

Trowa tried not to sigh too loudly. "I really wouldn't recommend doing it any other way."

"I can't see the name of the tunnel anywhere," Quatre complained softly. "Are you sure it's in this county?"

"I double-checked with the station master at Euston," affirmed Trowa. "It's _got_ to be there."

"Let's look at this again step-by-step," Sally suggested in a very adult voice, running over the details of the telegram in her head. "Train 'A' leaves Birmingham first, and heads for the tunnel..." She followed a cross-hatched line away from the dot representing the named town, but stopped after awhile. "...there _is_ no tunnel."

"Give me that," Wufei snapped, and he grabbed the book away, turning it upright toward himself. "Now, train 'B' leaves Wales bound for Shrewsbury, but Treize plans to divert it..."

He began drawing another imaginary line away from the border, with all eyes following it, and Duo took over at what appeared to be the point where Sally's line ended. "...through the tunnel of mystery, and crash it into train 'A', demolishing the tunnel and everything in it," the chef finished.

Trowa shook his head in frustration and straightened up, slapping the map with the back of his hand. "...there isn't a railway on this map that fits that description."

"Aw, no, there _has_ to be!" whined Hilde as she pushed her way closer. She saw a wiggly line with some writing over it that was unintelligible to her, and pointed to it. "What's this line right here?"

Again, Trowa almost sighed. "That's the Shropshire Union Canal."

Hilde blinked. "...shut up!" she blurted weakly before withdrawing a pace or two.

On the other side of the table, Sally was standing away slightly, with her arms folded across the front of her fern green dress, tapping a finger against her chin. "Something's not right here. When was this book printed?" Without waiting for an answer, she marked the current page with one hand, flipped to the front inside cover with the other, read the date, and glared squintily up at Trowa with laughing disapproval. "1850?"

The map retriever deflated. "Hey, all the people responsible for stocking the manor's library are long dead. Take it up with them."

Wufei was growing impatient, and swatted the map book back to its original open page. "_Someone_ has to make a decision. We're running out of time."

"Who's second-in-command?" asked Sally.

"We don't have one," Hilde admitted, slowly looking up at Duo. "At least...not officially..."

Duo swallowed. What he feared most was happening. Without Heero's strength, his strategic savvy, just the way he commanded respect from people, the team had splintered, and no one could really take his place. Strangely, and at the same time predictably, most of them began looking towards Duo to fill the gap, as the one who knew Heero best. They were all staring at him now, and the tips of his ears were turning red, he could feel it. Swallowing a second time, he stood up as straight as he could, and then pointed down at the map. "Two different enemy teams are going to commandeer a signal box each, on either end of whatever track goes through the tunnel...so we'll send two teams to intercept them. Two to a team, and two of us stay here." He looked around at the five faces in front of him, and made a difficult decision in record time. "Tro and me will be one team, Sal and Wu will be the other."

Quatre was immediately offended, and it showed on his face. "Why am I staying behind!? My sisters could be involved in this! Nobody knows them better than I do!"

"And nobody knows _you_ better than them," Duo pointed out regretfully. "Besides...if we all go and somebody gets hurt, we've got nobody in reserve for the next mission.....and we don't have enough money for six train tickets to Birmingham anyway."

"But I made _sure_ we had enough!" the treasurer erupted, pointing wildly at the door to the hallway. "I've been setting it aside in the old Cadbury's tin in the pantry! What happened to it!?"

Duo blushed and looked away, unwilling to admit that he had been funnelling it to Heero on the sly. Quietly enraged, Quatre turned on his heel and stomped off in a huff. Hilde frowned and went after him, but did not in any way protest her backup position; she and others recognized it as a purely strategic move, nothing to be overly upset about. As the two second-stringers vanished from view, guilt trickled down Duo's face, and Sally took pity by slinging an arm around his shoulders and giving him a comforting shake. "You did the right thing. You're doing fine."

"No, I'm not, I'm crashing and burning," Duo moaned, leaning into her side for comfort. _This stinks. I'm no good at any of this. I wish Heero was here right now..._ "I wish..."

"He'll be there. And he'll be proud of you for taking charge."

_I hope you're right..._ He looked up at Sally with pitiful eyes, then pulled away from her, realizing that snuggling up to a warm, squishy mother figure wasn't the best way to start his career as a big, strapping leader figure. "We'd better go." Duo rounded up his meagre team and led them away from Bridlewood, stopping briefly at Sally's townhouse so she could change into something a litte more adventurous in tailored trousers. They could only hope that Heero would be somewhere to meet them at some time, and that he would have some sort of a plan in mind.

**********  
  


The last few days had been the most difficult Heero had faced in a long time. For some reason, in the absence of salicylic acid, with which he had been saturating himself for months trying to block out his eye-shredding headaches, those same headaches returned with a terrifying new ferocity never experienced before. During what could loosely be called the 'good' times, all he felt was the searing agony of a flaming-hot jagged sword impaling his skull and twisting at will, and during the 'bad' times, it was much worse. It got to be so that he no longer knew what date it was by the calendar, nor could he have even opened his eyes long enough to look at one. Ironically enough, he ended up spralwed in the corner of an alley behind the Covent Garden theatre, where Duo had once lived in a packing case during his less prideful moments. He became unable to travel to Malrborough Road to collect whatever money Duo had set aside for him, but food was out of the question anyway, as the headaches began bring with them the most terrible stomach upset. The early morning hours of the sixteenth were his lowest point yet, as he laid inert on a filthy carpet of brick, crippled by punishing pain along with the dregs of society in that forbidding alley and struggling to understand his predicament.

_Why is this happening to me!?_ Eyes clenched, teeth gritted behind his closed-lipped grimace, he let a hand drift up to his face, dancing numbly across the sweaty terrain as if checking to see if he was still there. _There's someone out there...I don't know who it is, but I can hear them..._ As he dared to lift his head off the ground and squint at those with whom he shared the alley, he saw shadows of the poor and depressed, drunkards and thieves, the lot of them, but he was losing his ability to tell which were the homeless and which were the agents. _Why don't they just come and take me!? ...take me home...where there's injections for the pain...open my veins right now, I don't care..._

It was suffering unlike any other. It made him slip in thinking that 'home' was with Jeffrhyss, and if Duo had been there inside his head, he would have smacked him for it. Ordinary pain, he could handle, but this required extraodinary help if he was ever to move from that spot, and just when he thought his head would split completely open, spewing forth blinding white flames that would consume everyone and everything in a five-block radius, a voice spoke to him. From inside his head. And it sounded a bit like Duo.

_Get up._

Heero looked down at the soothing cool brown of the bricks beneath him, through a hazy aura that threatened to completely choke off the rest of his vision. A ghost was whispering in his ear, and he didn't for a minute believe it was real.

_I said...get...up._

He held his breath. That seemed more than a mere hallucination. Somewhat fearful, Heero struggled to his feet, crashing lightly into the nearest wall as his sense of equilibrium fought to keep up with his laboured movements. As his pulse began to pound with the effort, his head throbbed in perfect time, adding another bobbing wave of agony that made him wobble, but he tried to listen for the voice one more time.

_Now walk._

Despite the pain, he was compelled to obey, and gradually the way became clearer. Barely able to keep his balance, he somehow struggled out of the alley to look for enemy threats before venturing further, and he escaped into the depths of the city unmolested.

**********  
  


When one looked at a recent and accurate map of Shropshire, one could pick out three points of interest which formed a sloppy triangle of concern. The westernmost point, well back from the border of Wales but not close enough to Birmingham to be heavily populated, was the site of a signal box targeted by Treize. It was here that he planned to misdirect a cargo train through the tunnel and crash it into an oncoming passenger train, and he felt more than confident that he could do it, with the aid of his foreign-born cronies. At the easternmost point, on the far side of that tunnel, was a second signalbox, where Milliardo planned to divert the passenger train northward and create a wreck with a _fourth_ train, also loaded with cargo, which would be coming down from the Liverpool area later that day. At the north point of the triangle was a third signalbox, which would also have to be taken over, and a stretch of track where the passenger train would have to be stopped while Milliardo waited for the oncoming bullet from the north to smash into it. It was perhaps the most intricate and indelicate of plans, when glued together into one big glob, but it was the best that everyone could muster at the time.

Treize, happily confident that his men would take care of the details in a timely manner, set up a fancy wrought iron table and two chairs on the top of a hill which overlooked a wide stream, beyond which lay the hill with the tunnel cut through it. There was a bright blue sky overhead with only a few clouds, a splendid change from the on-again, off-again rain so typical of English summers, making it the perfect time to entertain his guest, a nondescript man in a gray suit sent by the Cinq Association to observe the feat. The two men sat at the table, draped in a white lace cloth and decorated with a silver tea set, a single red rose in a small vase, and a plate of assorted biscuits, just a small snack to nibble while they waited for the big show.

"Lovely day for it," Treize remarked offhandedly, picking up a plate of pastires and holding it out to his right. "Jam tart?"

The nondescript man, dark-haired and clean-shaven with an American accent, contemplated the plate of treats and eventually took one. "It won't count towards your final score of course."

Treize smirked. "Of course." Then he poured two cups of tea, making the milk and sugar available to his guest, and sat back in his chair, lounging like a panther dreaming of his next big pounce. "Should I indeed capture the vacant chair, I _greatly_ look forward to working with you again."

The American smirked back, adding to his clipboard of notes. "Compliments don't count either, sporty."

Bested at the contest of wills, if only temporarily, Treize retreated, swinging one leg over the other and sipping his own tea as he ran an eye over the peaceful, green countryside. The two men were facing roughly north-east, and the occasional cloud passed in front of the sun to shield their eyes as they waited. In a little while, a passenger train from the right and a cargo train from the left would be colliding in front of them, sending fire, smoke and debris shooting out the sides of the tunnel before, if luck would have it, the tunnel collapsed completely. Then the American judge would take some shots of the aftermath with his Brownie camera, and then there would be wine spritzers for everyone! "How soon afterwards will you be making your final report?"

Tipping his straw hat up slightly, the judge flipped an arm over the back of the chair and scratched his neck with his pencil. "Well, that depends. Technically, the existing four members are supposed to be present and accounted for, but if the Chairman thinks we can make do with Lord Byron, then--" He trailed off suddenly, as if he didn't mean to run off at the mouth like that.

"Excuse me," Treize jutted in, leaning over to him. "...Lord Whom?"

The judge sighed at himself, then shrugged, thinking there wasn't much harm in elaborating. "Lord Byron. He's taken over from Lord Jeffrhyss while he's on extended leave. Most of us figured the old dog needed a holiday, but this is getting ridiculous." He skewed his hat to the side, almost hiding from the Count. "I shouldn't have said that much. Just forget about it, will 'ya? If you're that confident that you'll be joining up, you'll hear all the latest gossip soon enough anyway."

Treize was naturally intrigued. "...indeed," he purred through a slight smile. Something was the matter with Lord Jeffrhyss. Something juicy.

The Count looked at his pocket watch, and the time was just about right for phase one to be carried out. At that very moment, three of his goons were approaching the west signal box, which was miles away and too far to be seen from Treize's picnic area. The goons climbed up the wooden steps to the gray-painted apartment on stilts where the signalman lived and worked, broke down the door, tied the poor fellow up and tossed him in his own wardrobe, all without much difficulty. It was the middle of the country, with the signal box sitting on the outermost edge of a tiny village, and no one had any clue as to what had transpired. The instruments of evil had lodged themselves quite firmly into the Shropshire railway system, and were about to bring a little extra noise to the quiet countryside.

**********  
  


It probably wasn't a good sign that a few stiff drinks cured Heero of his headache. As he gulped down the last of his wicked whiskey shots, purchased with the money earned in desperation by pawning his gun holster of genuine hand-worked Italian leather, he realized he was no longer the picture of the average immigrant worker who could slip under society's radar. His programming had failed him in the end. Less than three years out of the nest, and he was already going to pieces. How any agent made it past the age of twenty-one was a mystery.

_What did Giorgenson say to Duo? A sixty percent suicide rate?_

He held up his empty glass and looked at his surroundings through it, a seedy, underground gin joint where about a dozen other lost souls had come to slowly expire. It was unclear to him whether it was more cowardly to kill oneself slowly or quickly, or whether it even mattered. _If I didn't have Duo...I'd be gone already,_ he decided. Perhaps he would be mourned for a short while by a few friendly acquaintances, and certainly cursed by his enemies, but that would be all. Momentarily blinded to the impact he'd had on everyone around him, he concluded that no pleasant memory of him, however small, would remain. The alcohol brought with it a dull, aching depression in exchange for getting rid of the more immediate, piercing pain.

Once he was swimming in chemicals, however, his head began to clear of both the pain-induced haze and the booze-induced self-pity, and he recalled smattering of a plan to disrupt the feat of trains about to be carried out in the west, but the cost of medicating himself to that point was too high when compared to the price of a train ticket. He was short of cash once again, and since he had already sacrificed his holster, letting his six-shooter be content to rest in the waistband of his trousers at the back, it didn't seem like such a big deal to pawn his pocketwatch next. The wafer of poison had long since been removed and given to Sally for proper disposal; if someone set it to twelve noon and pulled out the knob, they would be flattened by knockout gas, but they would soon recover with no real harm done. It was the only thing he could reasonably part with, so he did.

The money he obtained in exchange for the watch was more than enough to get him to Shropshire, but he didn't want to drink away the remainder. The philosophical questions about the way he had always treated people were still gnawing at him, and he had been pondering, on and off between headaches, what to do about it. Those thoughts led him to a little gift shop not too far from the pawnbroker's, and he was mysteriously drawn inside to look at the trinkets for sale. On his arrival, a young saleslady with curly ash brown hair and a light Irish accent approached him with a genial smile. "Can I help you, sir?" she asked.

Heero froze for a moment or two. "...yes. No. I..." An obvious demonstration of his total cluelessness followed, as he still hadn't decided himself. "There's something I need to say to someone, but..."

"You don't know how?" the girl finished for him, still smiling. "I can help you."

She led him deeper into the cheery little shop, its shelves packed full with baubles of every description. There were music boxes, ceramic figurines, children's soft toys, picture frames, small paintings of flowers and cottages, decorative candles, and anything else that might have made a nice present for someone special. "Is it a friend you're wantin' to speak to?"

A friend? Heero couldn't think of this person as a friend, nor did he believe the feeling would be returned even if he did. There were too many scars that couldn't be covered up, too many words and actions that could never be taken back...and yet, there was perhaps a peculiar kinship, risen out of a mutual sense of being battered and used in the name of competition. In that sense, the person was a friend. Heero gradually nodded with his hands in his pockets. "...after a fashion."

"A lady friend?" the sales girl added with a mischievous grin.

Another uncomfortable question. Heero avoided it deftly, nodding again. "We'll go with that."

"I've got something new that's just come in." The girl's eyes danced knowingly, and she led her customer over to a copper and glass shelf near the back of the store, where the most special merchandise was kept close to the cash register. On the eye-high shelf, the second from the top, were some very strange creatures, animals made out of felt with tiny hand-sewn waistcoats and britches of satin, velvet, and other fine materials. Heero didn't know what they were at first, but thinking back to his zoology classes, a spark ignited behind his eyes as he identified the animals as bears. Odd bears they were, too, for they sat straight up on their bottoms with their limbs sticking out unnaturally, and some even had whimsical smiles stiched onto their faces underneath their button eyes and leather noses. The girl picked a handsome one up off the shelf and held it out to him. "Isn't that precious? And there's a little card on a string attached to each one with a little story on it. You see, the President of the United States was out bear huntin' last year, some sort of publicity stunt to curry votes, you know how they do...and his guides found him an easy target, this wee little baby bear, but he refused to shoot it on humanitarian grounds. These bears have been selling as fast as they can make 'em in America, so I wrote my pen friend and had a carton shipped out to me as soon as one was available. It makes a lovely gift for any occasion."

She let him hold the bear, this one having glass eyes and a black pinstriped suit, much like his own. The name 'Teddy' was on all of the little storycards, after Theodore Roosevelt, the president in question. Not having been on the market for a gift for very long, Heero may not have fully appreciated how special the bear was compared to the other treasures for sale, but rather than spend all day looking for something else, he agreed on a price and paid the girl. It was meant as a mere token anyway, not the crown jewels. "Can you package and post it for me as well?" he inquired.

"Of course!" she replied, and she quickly handed him an embossed floral card and a pen. "Will you be after fillin' out this notecard?"

"Notecard?"

"With the message you want to give to your lady friend!"

Only afterwards did it seem obvious. Heero picked up the pen, but couldn't think of what to write for what seemed like ages, while the sales girl found an appropriate-sized box and some stuffing to pack the bear in. What he wanted to say wasn't easy, in fact the girl had to wait awhile for him to finish, seal the notecard in the tiny envelope provided and write the recipient's name on the front before she could pack it into the box, squarely in the centre of the bear's chest. He knew where the package needed to go, but got stuck on the postcode, and had to make one up, hoping His Majesty's Postal Service could figure out the rest by themselves. After handing over a little extra money to cover the postage, Heero had just enough to get himself to the passenger train targeted by Treize, not one penny more. As he walked away from the gift shop, however, he had a strange sense that money wouldn't be a problem soon, and he didn't know why.

**********  
  


Unbeknownst to him, Treize's plan was under attack on two different fronts. He failed to consider the security of the eastern signal box, or even the existence of the northern one, and those were two inexcusable omissions. For example, a pair of intruders who had spent the night in another tiny village much like the first were creeping out of the town toward the railroad tracks. They were both girls, dressed very oddly in colourful silks and diaphanous shawls with jingling gold tokens sewn onto their hems and other edges. They both had dark hair and were about the same height, in fact they might have even been related in some way.

The younger and cuter of the two had tiny cymbals on her fingers, and the older one with strips of bright fabric braided into her hair carried a strange, bulbous musical instrument in one hand, and a small cage with a bird in the other. As soon as the maidens were a discreet distance away from the village, where few or none could see them, the older one set the cage down, put the instrument to her lips, and began to play an exotic, warbling tune in the direction of the signal box. The other girl smiled as she adjusted her crimson dress to accentuate her bare midrift, and started dancing, setting the trap.

Obviously, the sudden ruckus down below drew the attention of the lonely signalman, enough for him to leave his post and peek out the window. The balding, bespectacled man nearly fell over at the sight of a scantily-clad, well-endowed woman flaunting herself out in the open, regardless of the fact that there really wasn't anyone around to see it but him. Rather than being excited, however, he was shocked in a most mortified way, but the girls got the result they wanted in any case. The signalman came tearing down the wooden steps of his perch armed with a blanket to cover the poor, ignorant girl up, but as he fearfully approached her, she backed away teasingly, drawing him away from the musical girl and exposing his back to her. A moment later, it was all over. The older girl whacked the signalman hard at the back of the head with a kind of pocket-sized club, and they immediately tied him, gagged him, and threw him in the bushes. Then they sped up the stairs, took control of the railway signals, and released the caged bird they carried with them. It knew exactly which way to fly, and disappeared within seconds.

At the eastern signal box, a similar scene was taking place. A brunette was helping a blonde down the road of a third tiny village, and the blonde was crying, squealing, and just generally complaining bitterly over a twisted ankle. As before, the signalman poked his head outside, saw the damsels in distress, and rushed down to help, and also as before, he went down in a cloud of his own dust when the girls turned on the Samaritan, clubbing him in the head and lashing his hands and feet together. The eastern railway signals were theirs, and upon taking control, they released a bird from a cage, who flew off in a flurry of feathers.

All this action came together outside Wolverhampton, where Camp Peacecraft was holed up in a guest house on the outermost edge of the borough. Lucrezia, torn between wanting to support her man and wanting as little to do with his cruel games, contributed by waiting at the window of their second-floor suite for the carrier pigeons, each trained for days in advance to fly from a different signal box to that exact window when Quatre's sisters had done the first of their duties. First one arrived, and then the other, each being ushered into new cages once a small metal vial containing a short message had been removed from each of their left legs. "Everyone's in position," Lucrezia reported blandly as she closed the cage doors and turned away. "Only a matter of time now..."

The sad lilt in her voice did all it could to extend the argument that had been going on for days and days, but Milliardo was unmoved. "Your objections have already been noted," said he.

Lucrezia scowled. "Don't go on at me about it. I'm here, aren't I? I'm still supporting you, even while you're about to make a tragic mistake that's going to cost a lot of people their lives..."

"They were already forfeit when Uncle Treize drew up his plan. We're just using their deaths in our favour." Even as the words came out, Milliardo heard them through Lucrezia's ears, and was not without compassion, however slight. His voice softened, and he crept up behind her, placing both hands on her shoulders in a somewhat comforting way. "It sounds a lot worse than it actually is." Lucrezia chose not to respond, taking it all as a near-worthless token of false sensitivity, and they moved apart again as the temperature dropped another six degrees.

If either one had been praying for a distraction, it must have worked, for there was an unexpected knock at the door. Not very trusting of anyone at the moment, Milliardo went first to the empty corner of the room between the bureau and the dressing table, and grabbed his quarterstaff, the tall wooden pole he had been practicing with as his new favoured weapon. He had hoped that Lucrezia might have given him a few points for carrying a non-lethal instrument, but at this point she wasn't about to be swayed. His staff at the ready, he went to the door, opened it an inch and a half, prepared to fling it completely open and deliver a sharp blow to the solar plexus of any potential enemy, and peered out at none other than his own sister. He knit his brows and stood back, letting the door swing clear.

Relena did not look pleased, standing there with her arms folded across a plain white blouse. She seemed to have gone to a lot of trouble to make herself ready for the mission, finding herself fawn trousers and riding boots to make herself more mobile, and tying her hair back with a black velvet ribbon to clear her vision, and was understandably peeved that her brother had taken off that morning without inviting her to join him on what would be their mose important outing to date. "You left without telling me! I've been scrambling all morning to get here on time! Why didn't you wake me?"

Milliardo glared at her for awhile, then tilted his head towards Lucrezia. "Wait for me downstairs," he instructed, and after she grudgingly left them alone, he led his sister into the rented room.

Just the way in which her brother folded his arms and turned to the wall spoke immensely about how much involvement he wanted her to have. Once Relena understood that, her glare went cold. "You didn't want me here. You don't think I'm capable."

As he lectured, Milliardo slowly paced around the room, inching towards the door while Relena stood in the middle and watched. "I don't think you should waste your energy where it is most definitely not needed. There's nothing for you to do, because it's all been done...and apart from that...I also didn't want you getting _hurt_."

"With what's lying ahead of us, you can't possibly protect me forever, it can't be done. _Someday_ I'm going to have to _really_ face what I've committed myself to, and until I do, I don't know if I can trust myself to make decisions in the world's best interest, and isn't that what this is all about?"

No one had ever given the man credit for how good an actor he was, and he made a great play of lookind sorrowed and remorseful as he looked between his sister and the door. Gradually, he moved to the doorway and turned around, as if considering whether to recind his previous order and find a place for Relena in the mission. He glanced over at the window briefly. "Is Lucrezia waiting downstairs like I asked her to?"

Foolishly, Relena turned to the window to glance down and check. Milliardo grabbed the door handle, pulled it shut with a slam, and slipped the key into the lock a twinkling before Relena was beating angrily on the other side. All the shouting in the world couldn't keep him from turning the key and taking it with him, trapping her inside with her white-hot rage. The poor girl beat on the door and hollered until her voice gave out and her hands were red with fresh welts, but Milliardo was long gone. He picked up Lucrezia and headed away from the boarding house, not even looking up to the window to give her the satisfaction of yelling at him through the glass.

Relena flopped on the double bed and sank her head into her hands with a deep sigh. _He's never going to let me grow up..._ Then after she spent a few minutes feeling sorry for herself, she got up and surveyed her prison for weak points, as she imagined a certain someone with dark hair and sharp wits she used to know might have done in that situation. Her attention was drawn to the window, and she unlatched it to look outside. To the immediate right, bolted against the brown brick wall, was a drainpipe, and that was more than good enough. She sat up on the windowsill, angled herself out, and actually shimmied down the drainpipe in a most unladylike fashion, drawing curious stares from passers-by which she firmly ignored. Then she was off like a shot, following her turncoat sibling to the train station, to claim her fair share of the action.

**********  
  


With the last of their savings plundered from the Cadbury's cookie tin, Duo, Trowa, Sally and Wufei all hopped a westbound train and ended up at Dudley, still unsure of what their final destination was. They needed an up-to-date map, so Sally and Trowa provided some distraction for the station master while Duo snuck into his office and 'borrowed' some maps, while Wufei kept lookout. Afterwards, Sally was the first to notice that Wufei was carrying a sword at his side, an oddly outlandish thing to have in a railway station. She approached him, asking if he really needed such a thing for a mission that was meant to be non-lethal, and he scowled back at her, insisting that of course he needed it, don't be stupid. Everyone spoke to him a bit less for the rest of their time together, but other than that, it was a swift and painless operation which netted them exactly what they needed, a clear picture of Shropshire, railway tunnels included. As they were holed up under a stairwell studying the new charts, they happily found the tunnel that was named in Treize's declaration of intent, giving them a real direction at last.

"These are the two signal boxes we want," Duo began, pointing to a pair of marks on either side of the underground passage. "If this one is Treize's, and it must be if he's re-routing the cargo train, he'll have it jam packed with hired goons."

"So this one must have been taken by the Peacecrafts," Wufei continued, tapping the easternmost of the two dots.

Trowa looked down at the floor briefly. "And Quat's sisters."

It was an uncomfortable topic, but the girls knew what they were getting into as much as anyone else. "You two take that one, _gently_," Duo said to the other team. "We'll take the goons. If anyone sees Heero along the way, make sure he knows who's doing what. The best thing we can do for him is take care of as much of the background work as possible. He's had plenty of time to come up with a plan of his own, and he can't be in two places at once, so I think he'll be expecting us to set the pace. Everyone ready?"

"Ready," chimed the others.

"Okay, then...uh..." There was a momentary lapse in leadership while Duo tried to think of something pointed and energizing to say, to spur his troops on to victory. All he could manage was to raise one fist weakly into the air and shout, "Mush, huskies!"

Three boys moved, but Sally stayed put. "Hold up," she ordered, and they ground to a halt, turning around with a collective sigh.

"Whatsa matter?" asked Duo impatiently.

"I just thought of something." She folded her arms sternly. "Take a look at the time listed on the telegram, and then look at the clock, and tell me if you think anything's wrong."The boys all looked at the telegram again, then at the clock above the schedule board out in the foyer of the gothic revival building, then back at Sally with questioning glances. "The only train left that's headed in the direction of the signal boxes is the one that's supposed to crash. We got here too late, and now we have to outrun a train that's already left this station to stop at another one. I'll bet there's not enough money for a private coach to take us the rest of the way, either."

They all looked at Duo with slight accusation, since he was in charge and technically responsible for everything that went wrong. He went red and smirked. "Heh...ideas, anyone?"

Trowa tossed glances all around the station, his eyes eventually landing on a freight car from which several blanketed horses were being unloaded by their handlers. The blankets as well as the handlers' carts were emblazoned with the name of a local stable and stud farm. "I've got one..." He raised an eyebrow and walked toward them; intrigued, the others followed, not yet clued in to what he had in mind.

**********  
  


Inside a particular railway station, the crux of the operation, some travellers were waiting on Platform 1 to board a train heading north, unaware that it was marked for destruction in the very near future. Both passenger and freight trains were routed past on any of half a dozen different tracks, some inside the station and some strictly outdoors. From there, cars travelled north to Manchester or Liverpool, west to Wales, or South to Bristol, the seaport to the known world. Having abandoned Relena in the boarding house, Milliardo led Lucrezia to the station, stopping at Platform 2 where they could look across the space of two tracks in a ditch to the other side, and was finally ready to tell her why. "This is what I didn't want her to see," he explained.

"I thought you wanted to shield her from the crash."

"Don't be silly, nobody's going to see that first-hand," he asserted, quite correctly. "This is the real danger to the spirit...seeing the victims beforehand. It's all too likely that none of these people will survive...I wanted to see their faces...to remember each one of them." He could feel Lucrezia giving him another one of her strange looks of disbelief, as it was heating up the back of his neck like the thick fur collar on a heavy overcoat. As he surveyed the platform across the way, he gave the impression of a Roman emperor counting the lands he was about to conquer, standing monolithic in his red army jacket and pure white slacks tucked into tall black boots, his hands clasped behind him in contemplation. "I learned a great deal from the war...the greatest fact of which was that the guilt over extinguishing the enemy is the least of one's worries. The soldiers who went to pieces afterwards were the ones who lost friends and brothers on the battlefield. They couldn't get the thought of the dead mens' faces out of their heads, they were _haunted_ by dreams of their comrades crying out to them for help. The strongest soldiers weren't the ones who could _forget_ the fallen, but who could _remember_ without it killing them. In remembering these people...I will ultimately strengthen myself for future missions."

_I must not be one of the strong ones, then,_ the saddened lady thought, for she couldn't bear to meet the eyes of any of the poor, artless citizens about to meet their doom. She drew a sharp breath and turned aside, only to whirl back around and grab her lover by the arm. "It's not too late to change your mind. You can take the feat away from Treize _without_ harming anyone! Just keep him from diverting it and send it on its way! That's _all_ you need to do!"

Unexpectedly, he wheeled on her with a sudden fierceness and leaned forward menacingly, scaring her back a step. "When I approach the Cinq representative _right in front_ of my uncle and invite him to view what _I_ have accomplished, Treize will _finally_ know that I've beaten him!"

She drew away, squinting at him and lowering her voice. "Is this about Cinq, or about you and your uncle?"

Milliardo shrugged slightly. "If Uncle Treize gets slapped in the face with a few harsh realities, it's just a delightful bonus."

Slowly, Lucrezia shook her head with contempt. "No...I used to think so, but not anymore. You've already let the game consume you, and now it's not enough. You have to turn it into a personal vendetta."

A lot of harsh words had passed between them over the previous weeks, but these were by far the worst. However, Milliardo was not one to make a scene unless he was completely out of control, and he hadn't reached that boiling point yet. He simply turned away, resuming his study of the passengers on the opposite platform. Defiantly, Lucrezia also turned her back in a huff, her cobalt blue dress swirling around her ankles in anger, and stared in the opposite direction at another track in a ditch and Platform 3, which was empty. It was while she was staring at the blank patch of the station that she saw something unexpected.

A slight figure in black was darting from column to column, peeking out at the platinum-haired warrior behind her. Lucrezia squinted as the figure slowly emerged from a pillar of bricks holding up the station canopy to look more closely with curiosity of his own, and realized that it was Heero. Her heart leapt with a mixture of joy and terror. _He can stop it,_ she told herself. _Milliardo won't listen to me, and I couldn't bear to fight him more than I already have, but Heero could do more...and do better._ She looked carefully over her shoulder to make sure Milliardo wasn't paying attention, and then waved to the boy.

Heero saw her, took a moment out to wonder why she was there at all, since the work was being done at the signal boxes and switch-track's, but waved back in the end. _Yes, I'd prefer it if your gentleman friend didn't see me quite yet..._

Lucrezia gnawed on a fingernail while she thought about how to communicate with him, looked behind her again, and raised her arms to send some mime-like signals. First she pointed over her shoulder at Milliardo, then at the sign across the way that read 'Platform 1', and then held her bent arms level with the ground with her fists clenched, making the motion of two objects crashing into one another in slow motion. Heero didn't understand until he looked carefully into her eyes and saw that she didn't approve of her brother's plan. How she even guessed that he knew about the plan in the first place was a mystery, but his very presence at the station was evidence enough for her. After processing the information she acted out to him across the railway ditch, he glanced across to the affected platform, made a swift survey of all points in between, nodded to her, and resumed column-hopping toward the north end of the station. What happened next, while Lucrezia kept her eyes firmly glued to his sprightly form, was both fearful and phenominal.

While Heero was focused solely on getting across to Platform 1, someone was tailing him at a distance. It was a plain-looking person with plain-looking clothes, but Lucrezia saw something about him she recognized. Unfortunately, it was buried so far in her memory that she simply couldn't will it to the surface to inspect it more closely, and in the meantime, he was gaining on Heero, and she couldn't shout to warn him without Milliardo twigging to the whole issue. _No...this is okay. He's a big kid, he can look after himself. He'll just give the guy a short shock to the neck and..._

The plain-looking person drew a gun and aimed to shoot Heero in the leg. Lucrezia started to yell, but caught the sound before it left her throat, torn and suddenly terrified. Then, just as the man levelled his weapon with both hands and prepared to shoot, shielded from common view by one of the great brick pillars, three _additional_ men wearing some kind of dull blue jumpsuits and matching caps leapt out of a shadowed archway, grabbed the plain-looking man in six different places, particularly his hands and mouth, and dragged him out of sight. There were some light groans and thumping noises, as the trio in blue pummelled the sauce out of the gunman. Many yards away, almost at the exit, Heero paused and looked behind him at the noise, but saw nothing, and disappeared from sight immediately after. Lucrezia was stunned, and spent several seconds shifting her gaze from one end of the scene to the other and pointing delicately with a single finger, trying to work out exactly what it was she had just witnessed. The blue capped men seemed to be watching over Heero, and he didn't even know about it. _Unbelievable...a whole flock of guardian angels...but why? And who sent them?_

"The train's coming."

Milliardo's subdued statement didn't register at first, but then she turned, looked down the length of the track, and saw a great steam engine rumbling toward the station. Lucrezia nearly began panicking, but kept a level head as she tried once more to dissuade him from his chosen course. "If we head back _right now_, we can send a pigeon back to Kamal and tell her to abort. _Think about this_!"

"I asked you to accompany me here as a _courtesy_, in light of our...history, but somehow I knew you'd try to talk me out of it. We've _both_ come too far, and now you have to choose. If you're not with us, you're against us. It's as simple as that."

A terrible chill paralyzed Lucrezia, and even if she had wanted to answer, it was impossible. Then, taking her silence as the ultimate rejection, he decided to cut her out of the immediate loop. As the train pulled into the station with great, billowing puffs of steam, Milliardo waited until it was just a few yards away from the platform and then leapt into the ditch, loping over the nearer set of tracks and using his quarterstaff to pole-vault over the second set and up onto the platform a mere second and a half before the train would have flattened him. Lucrezia held her breath in shock, then realized that the whole point of the display was to cut her off from speaking to him further. The train finally came to a rest, extending many more yards in either direction, and to even reach him she would have to take the longest possible route through the station, which she wasn't sure if she was even prepared to do. At first, she deflated with a sigh, but then her gaze hardened. Lucrezia squared her shoulders and walked away.

She hadn't decided whether she would ever speak to Milliardo again, but in a moment she would have a new facet of the situation to think about. From her left, running at full speed, came a very determined Relena, who came to a skidding halt in front of Lucrezia, eyes blazing. "Where is he!?"

Lucrezia nodded her head towards the train. "I'm through fighting with him."

"Oh, no you're not!" Relena grabbed her hand and dragged her towards the platform at a full clip, desperately clinging to the last person she considered a partner in her struggle.

Back amongst the crowd, another twist was taking place. While Milliardo gazed stoically from face to face, he saw the shadow of something threatening, then blinked, and moved in for a closer look. Someone familiar had boarded the train, but he wasn't ready to believe it until he saw the face again through the windows of one of the passenger cars. It was Heero Yuy, the very most uninvited. _He knows,_ the soldier thought to himself. _He's trying to stop it...and if he makes it to the engine, he just might do it._ Adapting to the new risk for the good of the mission, Milliardo ran towards the front of the train and hopped on at a point closer to the engine, lying in wait for his prey.

Both of the women following him saw the man suddenly dash further down the platform and onto the train, but they had no idea why. They only had seconds to think before the whistle blew and the train began pulling away. No matter how angry they were with Milliardo, they knew what he had just done was tantamount to suicide, and so they began wordlessly running alongside the train, their vigorous panting covered up by the chugging and clattering of the iron beast. At the last possible moment, Lucrezia jumped up onto the caboose, then helped Relena do the same, before the railway police even had time to react. No doubt they would telegraph the next station and warn them that there were stowaways aboard, not knowing that the train would probably never make it that far.

**********  
  


_~*~ Act Two ~*~_

In a peculiar twist, Duo's team headed out of Dudley towards the first of the two signal boxes on horseback, having just enough money left to rent some sturdy steeds for the day from the leisure department of the stables Trowa spotted. As the only one with any serious experience with horses, Trowa had to give the others a crash course about three minutes in length before he was confident enough to turn them loose. A conversation with a clerk at the ticketing office had confirmed that the affected train was probably loading up in another part of the Birmingham area that very minute, so there was no time to lose. The quartet rode off into the west with Trowa in the lead, constantly checking the stolen map against the position of the sun. After riding tirelessly for a while, he brought them to a halt by a gully for a quick conference.

"The east signal box should be another twenty minutes' ride in that direction," he told Wufei and Sally with a long point. "We've got another few miles ahead of us, but I think we'll make it."

"Which one of us should take the map?" Sally asked, concerned about getting lost.

"Let me," Wufei said sternly, and he reached out and snatched the map out of Trowa's hands. Very carefully, he tore it in half right down the middle of the tunnel marking, and gave Trowa's half back to him with a snort. Then he turned his mount in the direction the boy indicated, snapped the reins, dug in his heels, and the horse took off like a shot. Sally and the others frowned and wished each other luck before splitting off in their own directions, and soon everyone was on their way.

Duo and Trowa were long out of sight riding farther west by the time Sally finally caught up to Wufei. "I know we're in an emergency situation," she shouted over the wind, "but a little courtesy wouldn't go amiss!"

"The signal box is straight ahead!" Wufei hollered back without looking at her. "That brown peak to the left of the clock tower! That's the village!"

"What do we do when we get there!?"

Wufei paused, letting the thundering hoofbeats speak for themselves a bit. "You do whatever you want!" he yelled, and then without warning, he gave a sharp command to his horse and veered off to the left, riding in entirely the wrong direction.

Sally wondered if this was part of the plan she didn't know about, but knew that didn't make sense. "What are you doing!?" she yelled back. "Get back here! _Wufei!_" She could yell all she wanted, but he wasn't turning back. Next she wondered if she should go after him, but the top of the signal box was becoming clearer through the trees, and she knew she couldn't bail out now. Making a mental note to chew both of his ears off the next time she saw him, if he dared to show his face after abandoning his post, she spurred her horse on faster, closing the distance between her and the village in mere minutes. Wufei was a dot on the horizon, and had no intention of following Duo's plan. In fact, he never did.

Pulling her white and roan-spotted hunter up to the signal box, a silly-looking thing akin to a boathouse on matchsticks, it seemed abandoned. Sally dismounted, walked the horse up to the wooden spiral staircase, and tied the reins to the handrail, looking up constantly for signs of life. Now that she was alone, she had little chance against two warrior women such as Quatre had described, so her only real weapon was logic and her grasp of the English language. Carefully, she put a single foot on the bottom step, and hand on the rail, and called politely upwards. "Hello!?" No reply. "I couldn't have a quick word, could I!? It's...rather important...won't take a minute, I promise!"

Once the last word was out, Sally felt something cold and flat slip under her chin, and she froze. Raising her hands slowly, she was allowed to turn her head and see who had caught her off-guard, a beautiful, statuesque brunette who had a shining sword pressed neatly against the woman's jugular. "And what if I don't have a minute?"

Sally took her foot off the step and stood up straight, smiling cordially at her captor. "Now there's that fine desert hospitality I was looking forward to..."

**********  
  


There was only so much Heero could put into his plan when he didn't know what the rest of his team was doing, but he had every confidence in them nonetheless. He calculated that the most useful place for him to be was on the doomed train itself, for no matter which way it was bound, he could simply pull the plug by forcing his way into the engine at the front and either overpowering the engineer or convincing him that he was personally in mortal danger if he didn't pull the brake. If that didn't work, he could even set one of the cars on fire, which would necessitate an emergency stop as well as an evacuation while they sent a porter to the nearest town on foot to call for the fire brigade. He was easy either way.

It was a fairly short train, as the traffic to and from Wales was relatively light as compared to other routes, so it didn't take him very long to scoot through the corridor cars, politely dodging the occasional passenger coming in or out of their glass-doored cubicle. Between the cars, each of which had a locking door on either end that mostly relied on the honour system to keep people from drifting back and forth, there was a space of about six feet where one car was joined to the next with a locking hitch, and if one was careful, one could hop from metal landing to metal landing without seriously endangering oneself. Heero knew, even without his pocket watch, that he had enough time to be careful, so he was absolutely meticulous in the way he picked his way to the front of the train. All was going well until he got to the last car between the engine and the rest of the train, used by the engineer and the other staff; when he opened the door and stepped out onto the narrow landing, he saw none other than Milliardo Peacecraft coming through the next door in front of him.

They locked eyes, and from comparing facial expressions, it was clear that Milliardo had the advantage. In the twinkling of an eye, Heero backed up a bit and reached behind him, grabbing the gun out of his waistband, and started to point it outward, but Milliardo jumped across the gap between the cars, clutched the out-swinging door and slammed it shut, right on Heero's hand. The boy scowled with a grunt of pain, and had to relinquish the weapon to avoid having some key bones in his hand crushed beyond repair. Milliardo pounced on the revolver, snatching it for himself and levelling it casually at Heero as he let go of the door, leaving Heero to rub the back of his badly bruised paw and wonder what went wrong.

"I'm sorry, but traipsing from car to car while the train is moving is strictly against regulations," Milliardo snarked in his raspy baritone.

Heero wasn't letting the pain show anymore. "How are people supposed to get to the drinks car, then?"

"There's no drinks car open to the people who've gotten a head start," Milliardo countered, waving a white-gloved hand across his nose at the aroma of alcohol clinging to his foe. "It's a bit early to be at the Kentucky bourbon, isn't it?"

"A bit odd to be riding the Valhalla Express, isn't it?" the boy hissed back with a raised eyebrow. "I can't imagine _wanting_ to see two steam engines collide at close range..."

"I'll be making my exit once I deal with you. Turn around, please." Heero was an exceptionally good sport as he faced the opposite direction and allowed Milliardo to jam his own gun into the middle of his back. He'd gotten out of much worse scrapes. "Now, we're going to walk very calmly to the back, and then you're taking the fast way off. But let's not disturb the nice passengers along the way, agreed?"

"I'm always a model prisoner."

"Excellent." Milliardo marched his captive back through the train, car by car, pressing a little harder with the gun every time they passed a civillian, just to remind Heero not to make any funny moves. He hadn't decided how to dispose of the lad, as a gunshot might alert the passengers, who might alert the engineer, who might stop the train and ruin everything. Probably best to just toss him over the side and deal with him later, he concluded. Unless, of course, he stirred the soldier's ire.

All was going well, again, until they got to the very end of the train. One door remained between them and the caboose, and like any other, Milliardo expected Heero to open it himself and proceed slowly through, but this time, Heero got about halfway through and froze. Being a good foot taller, Milliardo saw why without much difficulty. Relena and Lucrezia were standing on the deck of the caboose, and the elder was giving the younger what-for over her foolhardy actions. They both froze and looked up as the gentlemen emerged, and everything was quiet for a few seconds as the four of them exchanged both curious and fearful glances.

Never one to miss an opportunity, Heero used the confusion to hurl a backfist blow at Milliardo's head, catching him in the chin and making him drop the gun, which clattered around the locking latch and finally fell down between the rails, perhaps lost forever. While the girls squealed in surprise, he gave Milliardo another sound punch to the stomach, then reached down to the latch that hooked the cars together, pulled the pin out, pried the coupling apart and gave a last look to the women, especially Relena, that said no dispute was worth their personal safety. The caboose began to drift backwards, losing speed, and it was just as Milliardo was recovering from the blow to his gut that Heero vanished back through the swinging door and into the train.

As touching as it was to have Heero push her out of harm's way, to which she somehow paid more attention than her own brother getting beat up on, Relena was having none of it. Even with Lucrezia trying to hold her back, she climbed up onto the railing and called to Milliardo, "I'm coming over! Catch me!"

"Sit down before you kill yourself!" Lucrezia shouted, becoming hoarse from competing with the clattering wheels.

Horrified, Milliardo leaned forward over the rail, holding his hand out, but palm-first in a warning gesture. "_No! Don't!_"

There was no arguing with her. She slapped poor Miss Noin hard enough to make her let go, and then made her best flying leap across the widening gap, forcing Milliardo to reach out and grab her arms just to keep her from falling under the wheels of the caboose. Unable to focus on grabbing hold of her brother, she dangled in his grasp, her boots dragging along the the wooden railway ties until he could haul her up onto the landing. Lucrezia leaned back against the nearest wall, steadying herself with one hand on a vertical bar and letting the other plaster over her mouth as she shut her eyes, lest she grow dizzy and faint dead away. She was then helpless to watch as her unpropelled vehicle slowed and slowed, but Relena appeared safe as the rest of the train chugged away, and the sight of the siblings embracing was the last one she could see.

Already exhausted for having done so little, Lucrezia sat down on the deck and caught her breath. Then, realizing that another train would eventually be along to bump the stray caboose out of the way and that it probably wasn't the best place to be, she got up and hopped off while it was travelling at a little more than brisk walking pace. Now stranded, there was very little she could do until someone came to rescue her from the middle of nowhere along the border of the Welsh countryside. Unsure if she was closer to the next station or the last, she decided it was best to backtrack, so she began walking alongside the tracks in an easterly direction, making note of the length of her shadow to monitor the passage of time. After a short portion of the walk, she saw something black and angular lying on the wood and gravel between the rails. It turned out to be Heero's revolver, and she picked it up and hid it in her skirts for safe keeping. If she was unlucky getting back to a populated area, she reasoned, it might even come in handy.

Less than fifteen minutes passed before there was any sign of life on the horizon, and perhaps it was paranoia directing her, but she chose to hide behind a tree before they arrived. The first batch was made up of a number of men on horseback, and one small cart being pulled by a two-horse team. As they got closer, Lucrezia found she liked the look of them less and less. They wore ominously dark clothes and numbered about ten in total. Nothing was obviously evil about them except the bad vibe they put out, which she could feel all the way from behind the broad, sturdy oak she chose for her shelter. The group passed without noticing the woman, and lumbered on, following the departing train which was quite a long way ahead.

Some clouds passed in front of the sun, blotting out Lucrezia's shadow as she emerged from the massive trunk, gazing quizzically after the horsemen, but she wasn't out more than a few breaths when a _second_ cloud of dust and horses appeared, and she had to duck out of sight again. This batch looked strangely familiar, but it wasn't their faces she knew. They wore dull, dark blue suits, double-buttoned down the front like porters' uniforms, and matching caps. Their dress was in every way identical to the three men who jumped the lone gunman who was closing on an unsuspecting Heero in the station.

_Totally bizarre,_ she thought, struggling to work it out as they passed her, equally oblivious as the first batch. _If they really are guardian angels...then that first lot were tools of the devil, as sure as I'm standing here. Heero's in some sort of trouble, and he never told me...not that we're really speaking at the moment, but..._

Now she was torn over whether to head back and try to help, but she quashed the idea quickly; there was no way she could catch up now. Sighing dejectedly, she thought out a silent prayer as she resumed her course. Perhaps it was odd, or perhaps predictable, that she was thinking of him the entire way back, instead of the platinum-haired Adonis she once called her beloved.

**********  
  


Things were pretty calm in the west signalbox, a somewhat more sturdy structure than the eastern outpost. It was less of a treehouse and more of a two-storey brick apartment complex, all the inhabitants of which had been knocked out, tied up, and slung into the bushes. The two chunky Romanian he-men with thick shaving stubble whom had done the deed for Treize were smoking celebratory cigars after manipulating the switchtrack so that the freight train would take a detour through the tunnel. All was serene in their humble oasis.

A clunk sounded on the roof. One thug glanced at the other and muttered, "Ce este aceasta?" The other one shrugged. Then some scraping noises were added, and they seemed to be moving across the eave of the wooden roof towards the half-open window. The thugs squinted suspiciously and rose to investigate the noise, extinguishing their cigars right on the workstation table and plodding over to the pertinent wall. They each had forearms as large around as watermelons, muscles like steel, and a menacing countenance each to ward off intruders, so they naturally felt superior. It was indeed a surprise, then, when one of them opened the window the rest of the way and a slim, braided ball of fury came flying in from above with a primal battle cry forged on the auditory anvil of Satan himself. The first thug went down with an unintelligible exclamation, but the second thug wasn't able to help much, for a second teenage bullet came screaming in after the first, swinging on the eavestrough like a monkey and kicking the man soundly in the jaw.

The element of surprise, the superior skill and speed of the attackers, and their youth added up to a big defeat for the goons, though they put up a good fight in the meantime. The boys made it through with some scrapes and bruises, but nothing they couldn't recover from with the help of some home cooking and brandy.

"Only two?" Trowa wondered, huffing and puffing and brushing himself off as he looked down at the snoozing carcasses. "He must be awfully confident!"

"He still doesn't know he's got a leak somewhere in his house, that's why," said Duo, rearranging himself in a similar fashion. He looked around at the inside of the signal box, part of which was a makeshift apartment, and the other part of which had switches and levers leading to the signalling system, made up of wooden posts, steel towers, crossbars and painted boards, all moved by very modern electric motors. "Alright, now what?"

Trowa ignored the signalling system and went to the window, focusing instead on the track system below. "We figure out which track the freight train is coming in on, and throw whatever lever we have to, to...get it to...whatever." He was then revealed to be something other than an expert on land travel.

"What do all these levers and buttons do in here?" Duo asked in nervous confusion.

"Uh..." Just as jittery, Trowa eventually shook his head and pointed out the window to the ground. "Never mind all that, the stuff we want is _outside_."

Duo looked outside and frowned miserably. "Oh, _yeah_, outside with a half dozen different tracks, _none of which are labelled_! Who knew we were going to be fiddling around with the major transport hub for all of Wales!?"

"So we'll switch them all! Who's going to complain about a few misdirected trains when we're about to save the lives of _dozens_ of happy commuters?"

That seemed good enough. They scrambled downstairs, unsure of how much time they had, and started throwing switchtrack levers willy-nilly. With each one, a different section of curved track shifted to one side or the other, creating entirely new paths through the hilly region. Hopefully, one alteration would be the right one, but when it got to the very last one, the final lever remaining untouched, Duo found that he couldn't budge it, and he instinctively knew that it was going to be the only one that mattered.

"Geez...this thing's..." The chef struggled and strained, and even climbed up on top of the metal bar as best he could in an effort to shift it, but it stubbornly refused. "It's rusted solid!"

"Here, lemmie at it..." Trowa joined him, but even their combined strength wasn't enough. Then they heard a low rumbling and a whistle from afar, and knew that the freight train was fast approaching. Desperate, they pulled and pulled until every muscle they had between them was screaming in pain. The train got close enough for them to see its plume of smoke rising above the treetops. When it cleared the bend, the engineer caught sight of the intruders and blew his whistle angrily, but the boys stood fast, tugging and struggling with the lever while they both growled in pain. At the limit of their combined strength, the lever creaked just half an inch out of alignment, and as the train grew and grew in their peripheral vision, they somehow managed to shove it a good sixty degrees in the opposite direction, which was just enough to change the path of the cargo train at the very last moment. They jumped aside and the train whooshed past them, blowing dust and clods of dirt in their faces as they rolled defensively away from the track.

As they sat up and studied their work, they realized they had been too busy to take note of which track they were working on in comparison to which track the train was on, but the net effect was the same. Instead of travelling northeast, the locomotive swerved south. On the surface, their part of the mission appeared to be a success.

Once they caught their breath, they walked back up to the signalbox, where Trowa looked at the clock, then at the day's schedule. He let out a low whistle and shook his head, and when Duo gave him a questioning look, he had to tell him what _really_ saved their bacon. "That train was ten minutes late."

**********  
  


It was fair to say that Milliardo was furious with his baby sister. "What made you do such a stupid thing!?" he raged at her, shaking her by the shoulders. "Do you realize what nearly _happened_ to you!!?"

"I..." The poor girl had a whole speech prepared about how she could look after herself, and that she wanted to prove her worth as an ally, but it didn't seem appropriate just then.

"Stay..._here_," he ordered, and then sat her down on the landing of the last car, and actually wrapped her hands around the railing for her. She clung to the bars of semi-polished metal like a wet cat that had just escaped a plunge over Niagara Falls. Once she seemed reasonably settled, Milliardo left her there to chase after Heero and, if he had his way, to bash his head in for endangering her.

At that moment, Heero was trying to work his way through a clog of people in one of the passenger cars. One schoolgirl out of a class trip of forty was travel-sick, and it seemed like most if not all of her classmates had flooded the corridor trying to make her feel better. Heero pushed through the girly glut as politely as he could, escaped from that car into the next, and was more than a little surprised to be greeted by a stormy-faced Milliardo, who came barreling through the far door of the next car from the _opposite_ direction. Somehow, he got past the thickly-packed car behind Heero.

_How does he keep doing that?_ He glanced up at the roof of the car. _...oh._

"I'm going to take great satisfaction in making sure you _never_ harm my sister again," the soldier growled.

Heero didn't answer, but started backing up through the corridor with a shifty gaze. Sensing that he'd figured out Milliardo was travelling over the cars rather than through them, the soldier backed up as well, and soon they were both dashing for the closest exit trying to get up on the roof and up to the front of the train first. Heero raced to the door, flung himself onto the landing and quickly climbed overtop of the racing passenger car, the scenery packed with trees and row houses whipping past him on either side. After taking a moment to balance himself and get used to the rocking motion, which felt much more exaggerated up there than it did inside the car, he looked up ahead of him and saw Milliardo climbing atop as well, only now he had some sort of long pole in one hand. Drawing on his own unique experience, Heero identified it as a bo staff, with which the man had obviousy been practicing, for the soldier gave his staff a threatening twirl, ending in an attack posture. "This would be an _awful_ time for you to get travel-sick," he sneered at the boy.

It would have only been an awful time to waste precious energy on ego-feeding blather, so Heero remained silent, advancing slowly and carefully. Determined not to let him pass, Milliardo met him in the middle of the car's roof and waited for him to make the first move.

Heero made several tiny jumps to one side or the other, but saw no easy way past his opponent. Impatient to fling the boy off into the grassy hills zipping by as they left the city limits, Milliardo started the first volley by taking a fast swing with his staff. Heero dodged one blow, then a second and third before realizing he was being backed up perilously close to the rear edge of the car. Finding Milliardo's pesky twig to be rather annoying, he launched himself at it, grabbing hold tightly. With all four hands wrapped around the staff, they struggled back and forth, glaring with the ferocious fire of a thousand hells.

"How did you find out about this!?" Milliardo snarled, grunting with the effort of maintaining the staff's possession.

"You're not the only one with eyes and ears in strange places!" Heero shot back in a voice that was calmer, but firm enough to rise above the wind.

This made Milliardo think, very hard and very fast. Either his security net had some serious holes, or a member of his team, to whom he had entrusted the success of his entire adventure, was a low-down, dirty, rotten squealer. Since the Winner sisters were the last to be added, he would have immediately suspected them, if not for something Heero added to his argument while the tugging match was still going on.

"Now, before you make the worst mistake of your young life," the boy suggested with a sageness that belied his own years, "think what will happen to you and your family if you fully immerse yourself in this game! Once you get a taste of their power...it _will_ absorb you! And you can't help but turn it into a personal war after that!"

Milliardo's eyes became slits, staring across the tiny space over the horizontally-raised staff. _What was it Lucrezia said? A personal vendetta? Strange that they should both tell me the same thing on the same day.....very strange indeed._ From that brief moment, something inside the soldier snapped. An horrendous fury bubbled up inside him as he imagined not one but _two_ unforgivable betrayals, perpetrated by Heero with the tender assistance of someone very close to him, someone who once swore herself to him until the end of time. The very idea pierced his heart with a red-hot blade, angering him so fiercely that with a savage growl, he shoved the staff forward, toppling Heero over backwards onto the car's roof.

As Heero tumbled, he fought to keep at least one eye on the horizon, for it was the only way to maintain one's balance when hurtling through the air over a moving object. When he got up, Milliardo was advancing on him quickly, and began slicing through the air with his staff; once at head level, making Heero duck, once at knee level, making him jump, and a jab to the stomach area which was just barely avoided. They were both too busy to notice a third person moving about below them, crossing the short but frightening distance between that car and the one before, and then slipping inside.

The scattered travellers seated in that particular car were beginning to get very worried about the noises coming from the roof. It sounded like a herd of elephants was tramping around up there, but none of the dozen or so hapless civillians were brave enough to poke their heads outside to see what was going on. Compared to the cryptic crosswords and mystery novels most had brought with them, the majority silently decided that it wasn't worth the effort, but it worried them all the same.

Relena saw this as soon as she stepped into the car. More than half of the passengers gave her a good long look, as if they were anticipating a conductor to explain the ruckus. Still, they seemed to expect something of her, if only a vague reassurance. "Ev-...everything's going to be...alright," she sputtered quietly as she padded up through the centre aisle of the converted dining car, gently touching the backs of the benches as she walked. "There's nothing to be concerned about."

They looked about as convinced by this as she felt herself. It was oddly serene in the car, with hilly landscapes zooming past and great, thunderous thumps drifting down from above, but it was far from calm. To cover up the fact that she was sweating slightly from anxiety, a thirty-five-ish woman with a thick-brimmed flowered hat in three shades of beige took a mirrored compact out of her handbag and began applying a fresh coat of pressed powder to her nose and forehead.

Relena's eyes sparkled when she spotted the compact. "Excuse me...may I borrow that for a moment, please?" she inquired, ducking her head humbly as she approached her.

The woman was dubious at first, but Relena was such a pretty little thing with such impeccable manners that she couldn't reasonably refuse. Receiving the compact with a kind word of thanks, Relena looked up at the ceiling, targeting the thumping noises. Then she darted to an unoccupied bench seat to her left, facing the front of the train, slid down the window sash with both hands, the compact clinging on by three fingers, and angled her head and arm partway outside. Extending the compact as far out as she could reach, she pointed the circular mirror up at the roof and caught sight of two dark figures, bobbing back and forth in carefully measured attack stances, coming so horribly close to falling off the train that she could barely contain a squeak of abject terror. Relena pulled herself back inside, straightened up with a deep breath and a heavy-lidded gaze of false indifference, and returned the compact to its owner. "Yup, everything's under control," she lied.

The banging noises suddenly shifted forward, leaving that car and joining the next as the combatants moved closer to the coveted engine. Up on top, Heero had managed to back Milliardo up another twenty feet, bringing out the soldier's desperation. Right when the train took a broad turn to the south, under a multitude of tree branches trained to grow at just the right height, he used the distraction of bullet-speed limbs and leaves to deliver a strong blow to Heero's left side, sending him flat on his back to the panelled steel below. Milliardo was on him in a flash, pressing a length of staff against the boy's throat and pinning him in place.

"Look carefully down there," snarled the soldier, nearly out of breath. "Your death is just a few feet away."

Heero's head was hanging very uncomfortably off the edge of the car, and he could actually see the ends of the railroad ties blurring past in a line of mucky brown. The wooden bar thrust to his neck didn't help the faint feeling of dizziness that was overcoming him, but he wasn't ready to let go yet. He struggled and fought to free himself, while Milliardo leaned in harder, savouring what already felt like his moment of victory.

The soldier grinned slightly. "I should have done away with you the day I met you...but I can't deny that I've appreciated you as an adversary. Replacing you won't be easy."

Below them, Relena had crossed into another sparsely seated car, with about ten passengers in it, who shrank away from the disruptive noises and kept entirely to themselves. She went to a random window, opened it, and shoved her head outside just in time to see the deadly struggle way up at the other end of the car. No more than six windows separated her from the scene, which would have made her screech out loud with fright if she hadn't taught herself such rigid control. Still, she gasped at realizing Heero was inches away from falling off the train to certain injury, if not much worse.

"I wouldn't be much of a gentleman if I didn't give you one last chance to apologize, though, for all the annoyance you've caused," said Milliardo, releasing a tiny amount of pressure on the staff, allowing his victim to speak. "Any last words?"

Heero was grateful for the oxygen, but didn't use it to apologize. "Tree," he said matter-of-factly in a gravelly tone.

Milliardo squinted in confusion and took too many seconds to wonder about the cryptic remark before the limb of a mighty oak came sweeping across the top of the train and smacked him in the side of the head. The soldier went sprawling backwards, still clinging to his staff but in no condition to use it, and the same force also slid Heero right up to the edge of the roof. Before the boy could gain a foothold, he slipped.

As he fell, he managed to catch the decorative moulding just above the railroad company name emblazoned in six-inch gold letters over fading red paint, but only with one hand. He dangled there, swaying in the breeze and clutching his throat with the other hand, choking down his first unimpeded gulps of air, still unaware that Relena was watching. As he clasped a second handful of the moulding and scanned the upcoming horizon for more trees, he thought to himself, _If all this work could have been spread out over the last two weeks, it wouldn't be so bad..._

While Heero was pitying himself, Milliardo was getting a second wind. The moment he was back on his feet, he bounded to the side of the car where Heero was holding on, and drove his boot down on the boy's left hand. Heero let out a strangled growl of pain, gritting his teeth behind tightened lips. When he looked up, Milliardo was standing over him, staff raised to strike the final blow that would dislodge him from the train. With his free hand, he reached up and grabbed hold of Milliardo's shin, trying to pry the boot off his other hand, but it was a terrible angle to work from, and soon it wouldn't matter anyway.

No matter how angry she was at Heero, Relena couldn't bear to watch him perish, not now while they were both still children in the eyes of the world. Without giving a thought to angering her brother, she left that window and ran up to the closed window where Heero's feet were vainly sliding up and down glass, looking for something to step up on. Grabbing the clasps on either side, she unlocked the sash and slammed the pane down as fast as she could. Heero automatically stepped up on the window sash, hurled him self up and over the moulding, and tackled Milliardo before he could strike. In the back of his mind, he had a hazy sense of who might have opened the window, but there were more pressing matters at hand. "I _am_ sorry about _one_ thing!" Heero snapped while pinning Milliardo down in the same way. "I'm sorry I ever set foot in your country and brought this _plague_ with me! But then how could I have known that you wouldn't be able to walk away from it!?"

After another brief but terse struggle, they scrambled to their feet and faced each other, Milliardo holding the staff at waist level as if it were a shield. "Trying to tempt me with the rest of your sob story?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. "I'm not curious enough to let you live."

Heero's back was now to the engine, three more cars ahead, but he made no move towards it. Instead, he stared the other down in a relaxed Kamae stance. "You might have been a good soldier, _once_...but you're a lousy strategist now." With that, he stepped swiftly forward with his right leg, bringing the corresponding arm down with a vertical knife hand strike that hit the centre point of the staff and broke it in two. Splinters flew in slow motion as Heero did away with the weapon, stunning his opponent into total immobility, at least for the moment.

**********  
  


Once the misunderstanding had been cleared up, and Yasmeen learned that the elegant Dr. Po was little or no threat, she and Hessa invited the woman up into the signalbox and showed her some _genuine_ desert hospitality, with piping hot tea and travel treats they had brought with them from London. They listened politely to everything Sally had to say, but swaying their minds was difficult. "You must believe us," Yasmeen explained, "the last thing we want is for innocent people to get hurt, but they're going to be sacrificed whether our family is involved or not. If we can salvage some good out of this, something to save our other sisters, scattered like grains of sand across the earth, we _must_ do as we are told."

Sally sipped the delicate concoction before her, looking out the window at the sleepy village below, and arched her eyebrows. "Don't let it get back to Heero's ears, but in a way, I admire you. I don't know if I'd have the guts to make that kind of a decision."

"Your profession makes it for you," Hessa pointed out in a soft voice. "Didn't Hippocrates begin his oath with 'First, do no harm'?"

"That he did," Sally said with a cordial nod, "but if he could have seen what life would be like for us now...I sometimes wonder if he would have taken a different position. Suppose I was the only physician on the scene of a major disaster, like what's about to happen in the next half hour or so. I would have to separate the dead from the dying, the dying from the wounded, and the wounded from the slightly scratched, and from there, I'd treat them in order depending on the severity of their injuries. Since there's only one of me...no matter what I did, someone would die, and that's a sound definition of 'harm' if ever I heard one."

The sisters hummed thoughtfully, never having looked at the medical profession from that angle before, and then stared down at their tea as it hit home that the triage scenario was a close relative of their role in young Master Peacecraft's plans. They were the surgeons, snipping and slicing where Milliardo told them to, and since there were so many casualties, somebody had to suffer, no matter how good their intentions were. Whether they allowed the passenger train to carry on through the tunnel or sent it north toward the other signalbox, something terrible would happen to it. If they had never interfered, though, at least none of the blood would be directly on their hands.

"Really makes you think, doesn't it?" asked Sally, when she saw Yasmeen's blank stare grow thick with worry.

The elder sister nodded at her tea. "It does."

Sally took another sip, looked out the window a little longer, counted off thirty seconds in her head, and sipped again. "By the way...two more of us went to take out Treize's men on the other side of the tunnel. In a matter of minutes, it should be perfectly safe for those people to get to Wales on time. I hear there's some nice vacation spots there this time of year..." Yasmeen and Hessa looked across the wobbly wooden table at each other. Suddenly they looked very guilty, which wasn't a factor when the train was doomed no matter what they did, but now that there was a chance for it to escape unharmed...

"I think I'll...take a bit of water to your horse," said Yasmeen, and she slowly got up from the table to fetch a bowl from the signalman's dish cupboard. Without saying another word, she carried the bowl down the steps, and the noises that wafted up to the remaining two women suggested that she poured out some water from the hand pump sunk into the ground, offered a drink to the horse, which he accepted, and after that, they stopped listening. Running alongside the signalbox were the railroad tracks, and they split into two heading west and north, connected by a switchtrack device. At the moment, the switchtrack was directing the rail path north to doom at the hands of their other sisters, but with the throwing of a heavy lever right at the pivot point, which Yasmeen would vehemently deny later if questioned about it, the iron rails shifted to the left, aftering the path in a westward fashion. The train would now continue through the tunnel as originally planned.

Up above in the box, Sally and Hessa heard the clanking of metal, but refused to discuss it. Instead, Sally finished off her tea gratefully. "...that's nice. Do you make it yourself?"

"Oh, no," Hessa admitted quietly. "It's just some Earl Grey from the corner shop...but I added a pinch of chamomile and some honey."

"Mmm. S'very good." _My, this is civilized,_ Sally thought. _I wonder how the boys made out...and where Wufei is...and--_

And then there was a far-off steam whistle, heralding the arrival of the train. That got them out of their seats in a hurry, and the pair of them flew to the open window to see what was heading towards them. Without a lot of introduction time, the locomotive swept through the sparse forest in the distance and rolled past the signalbox, giving Yasmeen just enough time down below to get out of the way. They all watched nervously, not sure why they were watching at all since the matter was out of their hands. There was an even deeper moment of silence that followed as the two in the signalbox saw some fast-moving blurs on top of the train, unable to fathom what they were.

Heero and Milliardo zipped right past the window, making Sally and Hessa leap back with a yelp apiece. Just as quickly, they leaned further out the window to stare as they retreated at a wicked pace. They seemed to be fighting, of all things, and of all times, and of all the places in the whole wide world. Helpless to change what was, the girls gaped, spiralling down into worry and fear.

**********  
  


On the picturesque hilltop, Treize and the Cinq rep, whose name he found out was Reynolds, were making small talk and watching birds with their binoculars while they waited for the collision. Reynolds, trooper though he was, was getting rather bored, continually looking at his watch and shifting in his lawn chair."Look, is this going to take much longer? I have to get a full night's sleep, I'm on the 7:25 to Glasgow in the morning...assuming they can find a way around this spot..."

Treize arched an eyebrow at the young man's impatience. "Should be any time, now. In fact..." He reached behind him into the wicker picnic basket and lifted out a bottle of red wine with a gold embossed seal on the label and a crown printed on the cork. "...I've brought along a fine vintage to enjoy during my big moment, if you'd care to join me..."

Reynolds eyed the bottle lovingly, biting his lip and smiling. "Well, I'm not really supposed to drink on the job..."

The Count grinned. "Oh, go on. Be a devil."

The other nodded wickedly. "Just this once."

Taking a glove off and snapping his fingers, Treize brought forth his only other companion other than the carriage driver and horses, which were resting under a tall, shady tree far out of ear's reach. Lady Une's snooty butler, borrowed for the day, stepped forward to uncork the bottle and fill two cut crystal goblets for the gentlemen, passing one to his master and the other to his guest. Treize savoured the glint of undulating sunlight hitting the facets as the clouds blew past. "What shall we drink to?"

Rolling his glass between his fingers, Reynolds tipped his hat in a new direction and pondered the liquid in deep thought. "Mmmm...it's something of a tradition, in Cinq circles, y'know...to, ah...drink to the long life of all the participants."

"Marvelous thought." Treize raised his glass over the table, waiting for the other glass to meet it before proposing the toast. "Long life to them all...and to their successors."

"Well put," said Reynolds, noting the subtle self-serving nature of the wish.

They each took a long pull of their glass, enjoying the lukewarm liquid immensely. Treize then proceeded to look at his watch, and smiled to himself as a pleasant, far-off rumbling touched his ears delicately, and then grew. The train from the east needed no introduction; both men turned their heads and raised their binoculars in unison, aiming for the point at which the locomotive would emerge from the trees. A puffy plume of steam preceeded it, and then it came, rumbling with a distant roar towards the tunnel. There was only one problem, though...the other train was missing. Treize looked anxiously down the other end of the landscape and wondered. His men had all the instructions they needed to do their job, and the calculations were perfect...

_...as long as both trains are on time,_ the Count thought morosely.

Reynolds squinted, equally baffled, and was raising his binoculars up and down as if he saw something he couldn't believe. Treize peered through his instrument as well, and as the train completely cleared the trees blocking their view, he could see two figures on top of the train, where they really shouldn't have been. One was somewhat taller than the other, with long flaxen hair blowing wildly about a red army jacket, topping white trousers and tall black boots. The other was smaller, dark-haired, darkly dressed and wretchedly familiar. In fact, they both were. Having discarded the broken pieces of the quarterstaff, Milliardo and Heero were fully engaged in hand-to-hand combat, pitting karate against Marquis of Queensbury boxing, with no clear winner in sight. They were only visible for a few seconds before being swallowed up by the tunnel, but there was no immediate noise coming from the other end of the track, a clear sign that the colliding train was off-schedule at best, and completely absent at worst.

Atop the train, while they were still in the open air, Milliardo could no longer fathom why Heero was choosing to stand and fight instead of running up to the engine and stopping the vehicle, since he now had a clear path to do so. It also should have occurred to him that he had only seconds to get himself and his sister off the train before disaster struck, but he was so blinded by rage that he could not think of anything but pummelling Heero for all he was worth. Then, as the train cleared another grove of trees, Milliardo paused between blows, his eyes widening at something up ahead. Trustingly, Heero turned around to look behind him. Within two seconds they realized that the tunnel was approaching, that there would not be enough room to stand up all the way through, and that there was no safe place to jump off before they reached it. Both at once, they flattened themselves against the car roof just as the top edge of the tunnel passed over their heads.

Inside the tunnel, it was terribly claustrophobic. They could tell without raising their heads that the stone ceiling was only an inch or two away, and even attempting to look down the tunnel could have meant instant death. The shearing force of wind was amplified tenfold, and pushed hard against them both; Milliardo, being the heavier of the two, was able to hold on, but Heero was scooted back a little bit at a time, almost bumping into his foe. The boy was calmly concentrating on not sliding back any further, but Milliardo was panicking on the inside. As far as he knew, everything was happening on schedule now, but not his own. The train and everyone on it could have been smashed to bits at any moment, ending all fearful anticipation in an explosive fireball of twisted steel and smashed rock. It was all possible at once. In his mind, it was all happening at once. He could already feel the shrapnel cutting into his flesh from all directions. A few inches away, Heero was practically daydreaming, blissfully indifferent, and in a moment or two, the tunnel peeled away from them, the sky returned, and nothing at all painful had occurred.

As the train sped away in pristine condition, Treize lowered his binoculars, sat back in his chair, and tugged at his collar, glancing over at Reynolds in a wormlike way. "...well, that's the British railways, for you, isn't it? They couldn't stick to a timetable if it was made of molasses..." When he saw that Reynolds was unsympathetic, he cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. "Obviously there's been a small hitch, but I'm sure that if we toddle on down a few miles--"

"If there's one thing people can't _stand_ in Cinq...it's sloppiness," said Reynolds, and he pointed at the scene of the strangeness. "And who were those two dancing around on the roof!? _Tell_ me you didn't plan _that_..." 

Convinced that it was nothing more than a minor glitch, Treize got up and took off in a light jog down the hill towards the point where the tracks emerged from the west end of the tunnel in front of the stream, leaving Reynolds to scratch his head and beckon another drink from the butler. The Count was certain that the crash would now be taking place a short distance down the line, and was endeavouring to get across a sparse wooded area when he got turned around and found himself lost. Angry and frustrated, he listened carefully for the sound of a distant collision, and when none came, he kicked a rock, swearing under his breath at whichever of his cronies had botched the maths.

It took a few minutes to calm down, and then he had to figure out in which direction laid his picnic grounds. Just as he looked through the sparse canopy of leaves to locate the sun, another rumbling sound approached from the east, and for a moment, he thought it was another train. When the rumbling resolved itself into hoofbeats, he squinted, pulling his forked eyebrows together in a curious scowl.

From the edge of the miniscule forest, atop a charging steed of such a dark brown that it was almost black, was a thin youth wearing flowing white trousers that billowed in the wind, a sleeveless shirt of royal blue, and black leather bracers on his wrists. In his hand, raised at the ready, was a gleaming sword. Treize bristled.

The swordsman galloped toward his prey with a murderous gleam in both eyes. As he neared the Count, he took a playful swing at him with his sword, and laughed as the man ducked. "Low bridge! Watch your head!" he cackled as he brought the horse around for another pass.

"Chang," Treize spat.

"Where's your army?" crowed Wufei. "It's _terribly_ unsafe to leave oneself defenseless in the middle of the woods!" With that, he spurred his horse forward and took another swing at Treize.

The Count ducked with his arms raised in feeble self-protection and was certain he felt a slight breeze from the sword cutting the air just above the hairs on the back of his neck. "Are you mad!?" he hollered upon straightening up again.

Wufei brought his horse about and slowly walked it over to where the Count stood, so he could look down at him. "What an odd thing to say. There's a percentage of madness in everyone...the only difference among them is in how well they hide it." As Treize stood motionless, eyeing the boy with a calculating stare, Wufei reached out to lay the flat edge of the sword snugly against the side of his throat. "Any sane person would naturally reject the notion of slicing apart an unarmed man, miles from civilisation..." Then Wufei began walking his steed in a slow circle around him, letting the tip of the blade drag across his Adam's apple and around the back of his neck. "...but right now, you don't know if I'm rational! You can't tell if I even see you standing there, or if I think you're a construct of my own imagination! You have no certainties, no armaments, and no defense!"

Treize was remarkably calm for feeling a cold metal blade scrape a light circular trail just above his collar. Maintaining his smug airs, he folded his arms as the boy stopped his horse. "I would tend to disagree. It's not realy about sanity at all, it's about honour...and few things are as dishonourable as attacking the defenseless." He wasn't entirely defenseless--there was a loaded Derringer in his pocket, but he remained content to play the integrity card.

Wufei pointed the sword at the centre of the Count's chest and leaned forward with a furious snarl. "You mean like the way you murder innocent people for profit!? I should cut you down right now...but that wouldn't be much fun," he finished with a smirk.

Treize yawned, on purpose. "Yes, yes, I know, toy with me like a rat, and _then_ kill me. For all the effort you seem to have put into this, you might have expended some original thought, you know."

With a carefully measured flick of his wrist, Wufei snapped the sword upwards, nicking a short vertical slash into Treize's jaw, just enough to draw blood. Then he slipped the blade back into its silver-accented scabbard hanging at his side, sat up proudly, and gripped the reins with both hands. "Today, I was _that_ close. Nobody stopped me now, and no one ever will. Remember that." Having made his point, he rode back the way he came and disappeared.

Wincing, Treize reached up with the back of his hand and wiped away a growing trail of blood, glowering at the retreating horseman. _Such impudence...he may be a skilled warrior, but he is no gentleman._ Using Wufei's path to guide him, he navigated his way back out of the wooded grove, seething inwardly at persons not present. The feat of colliding trains was supposed to have been a tightly-kept secret, and somehow word of it had broken loose. There was no other explanation. On his way back to the top of the adjacent hill, where Reynolds was probably tapping his feet impatiently, or polishing off the wine, Treize was already devising disciplinary measures with which he would plug the holes in his security force. Wufei was still just a secondary concern.

**********  
  


When the train emerged from the tunnel unharmed, Milliardo scarcely knew what to do with himself. As the men picked themselves up and regained their balance, Heero straightened his spine with a smug look that wasn't quite a smile. "Surprised?"

Surprised didn't say it. Milliardo was flabbergasted. "...you knew."

"Yes, I knew," the boy confirmed, "but that's not the big difference between us. You thought this train would be destroyed one way or another, but you were more interesting in fighting me than getting Relena off safely. If I'd thought we were _really_ doomed...you'd be no competition for her."

"...then why go through with this ridiculous farce!?" the other hollered. It was really just a way of deflecting blame from himself; now that he had remembered his sister, who must have been terrified, he felt awful.

"It makes you _sick_, doesn't it?" Heero continued with slight snark. "All the planning you put into this, all the faith you put in your team, and you _still_ failed. I haven't even _seen_ my team for days, but my faith in them is justified. They knew what they had to do without any help from me...and now I've got to do my part to help them." Then he turned and hopped lightly over to the next car down the line, and in case Milliardo had forgotten, he glanced over his shoulder with an impish smile. "I'm going to stop this train."

Once the reality of it all sunk in, Milliardo couldn't let Heero win, not even at this late stage and for such a small prize. He took off running after the boy, and they loped from car to car until Heero reached the engine, where he forced his way in, threw himself against the door, and ordered the startled engineer with the long white handlebar moustache to stop the train or there was going to be trouble. The middle-aged man complied fearfully, pulling the large lever in the floor to activate the braking system.

The train was only a short distance from the western signal box, where Duo and Trowa were perched anxiously at the windows, tapping their fingers on anything and everything as they waited for confirmation that the mission was a success. "Come on, come on, come on...where _is_ it?" whined the former.

"We don't know that anything's gone wrong yet," said Trowa, shaking a hand at the window.

"Well, we don't know that anything's gone _right_ yet." Duo stepped away from the window and paced a bit, thinking. _What if Heero's not even around? What if he got drunk somewhere and forgot the date? What if he remembered the date, but went to the wrong railroad? What if something happened to him already and he never even made it this far? I just wish he'd talk to me! A telegram would do! A balloon-o-gram! A freakin' psychic message! Anything!!_ He went back to the window, leaning heavily on the sill, and tried to push down the doubts that had been haunting him all week. It was an uncomfortable place to be, feeling so helpless and uninformed, but even a small amount of faith could see him through the worst of anything, so he kept his fears to himself. Then, just as he looked up tiredly, thinking that perhaps all their effort was for nothing, he saw a far-off dot puffing out tiny plumes of steam. "What's that?"

Trowa focused on the blob in the distance and pounded a fist down on the window sill. "That's gotta be it," he crowed, "and...I think...it's slowing...down." Sure enough, the dot got bigger but at a disproportionate speed to what one expected from a fast-approaching train.

Duo's face lit up at last. "Then it's over! We actually did it!" The pair of them laughed, clasped hands, and even endulged in a side-long hug. "Should we go down or stay here?"

As good as it felt to claim victory, Trowa still saw fit to play it cautious, and hummed while he thought. "Let's hold off and see who disembarks first...just in case." Duo hesitantly agreed, and they went to the south window over the track to watch.

There was a high-pitched squeal coming from the braking system that grew louder and louder, accompanied by puffs of steam and a low chugging noise that gradually slowed as the train pulled up next to the signal box. What couldn't be easily seen from the box window was the commotion inside the engine compartment, where Heero and Milliardo were slugging it out yet again, with the engineer himself squeezed into a corner to avoid them. Just as the engine passed the signal box, the pair rambled out onto the narrow landing, where Milliardo finally succeeded in tossing Heero overboard. The boy took a low-speed tumble and ended up seated on the grass, catching his breath as the Peacecrafts rolled by quietly. As he looked up, his suspicions about who opened the window for him were confirmed as Relena appeared inside one of the cars, staring almost apologetically at him.

Once the train cleared their field of vision, Duo and Trowa saw clearly that Heero was unharmed, and shared a deep sigh, but the relief was short-lived as another train whistle sounded from the opposite direction. Suddenly they weren't sure if Heero's train had been stopped too soon, for the tail end of it hadn't quite made it past the switch-tracks, and would have been sheared off by an oncoming obstacle. They both fled to the signalman's desk and started thumbing quickly through schedules, expecting that Heero would be up the stairs to join them at any second.

Picking himself up off the turf, Heero brushed bits of grass off his suit and looked to either side, listening. There was definitely another train coming on one of the intersecting tracks, but he judged it to be immaterial to the mission. Everything had gone as well as possible, and there was nothing more to do, but instead of heading straight up to the signal box to see who was waiting for him, he paused and listened to something else, some far-off sound coming from the same direction he'd just left. It wasn't a train, but more like hoofbeats. A closer inspection of the horizon revealed dark splotches thundering forward on horseback, a gaggle of about ten riders in dark clothes. They gave off an unpleasant vibe, even at a distance.

Up in the signalbox, the boys were avidly watching the departing train, not Heero. "I think it'll just miss," Trowa judged.

Again, Duo let out a long-held breath. "Man...there's definitely a few angels working overtime on this--..." He was just wandering over to the east windows and froze; suddenly there were almost a dozen men on horseback, one pulling a small cart on rickety wheels, speeding towards the signal box at a full clip on the north side of the track. Duo didn't know what to make of them, but when he saw them angling towards Heero's spot on the south side of the track, he panicked. "C'mon!" he shouted to Trowa, slapping him in the shoulder, and they both bolted out the door and down the stairs.

What happened next was a miracle of orchestration that could not have been brought about by human planning alone. While Duo and Trowa flew down the stairs, the horsemen drew closer, seeing the oncoming train barreling forward. Heero felt many pairs of eyes on him, very threatening eyes, and decided to run. The engine of the oncoming train passed him and was just about to provide shielding from the horsemen, when they suddenly veered to the left, crossed the tracks like a flock of geese, and gave pursuit. Duo and Trowa couldn't make it to the tracks in time to follow them; the long cargo train cut them off at the last second, and they skidded to a halt, helplessly watching car after car fly by. The gaps between the cars made the action on the other side look like a grainy motion picture, but it was just blurry enough to obscure whatever the horsemen were doing. Duo was desperate to jump straight through the train and find out where Heero was, but Trowa kept holding him back by both arms, agonizing over the boy's terrified screams.

While they stood there struggling against each other, they failed to notice another group of horsemen approaching, these dressed in plain blue uniforms and matching caps. This group slowed, then stopped, then looked at the train speeding by and the two boys grappling with their helplessness, and discussed quickly amongst themselves. Heero was nowhere to be seen, nor were the horsemen in black. There was no way to get across the tracks, and by the time the train left, it would probably be too late. The lead rider in blue took off his cap, wiped a handful of sweat off his brow and rubbed his eyes dejectedly. "Fall back," he told the others, and they trotted off in defeat. Duo and Trowa never knew they were there.

Then the caboose of the train swooshed by silently. Duo vaulted across the tracks, right to the spot where he last saw Heero, but there was no one, and nothing in sight. The ground was scuffed by horseshoes, and great clumps of grass and divots of earth had been tossed up in what must have been a brief but terrible battle. "What happened!? Where is he!? Who _were_ those guys!?" Duo exclaimed, eyes flashing in all directions.

"Okay...okay, don't panic," Trowa said unconvincingly. He swallowed and ran a hand through his bangs, twisting around in a full circle but finding nothing. "Maybe he's just..."

Duo shook his head fiercely, brought his hands up around his mouth and hollered at the hilly countryside. "_Heeerooooo!!_............." There was no reply.

They began running down the bend in the track where the first train had come to a complete stop, and saw miscellaneous scattered civillians standing in the grass, complaining to the engineer about the delay. Among them, but standing a little bit apart, the boys were surprised to see Relena, wringing her hands in front of her heart and shaking her head faintly. She looked like she was in shock over something. Before Trowa could grab an arm to stop him, Duo bolted over and grabbed her by the shoulders, jolting her out of her dream state. "What did you see!?" he yelled wildly, right in her startled face. "Who took him!?"

The poor girl couldn't answer right away. She had watched the whole thing unfold from the landing of the caboose, where she ran to get a better view. It was undeniable that she still cherished some sort of warm feeling for Heero, for now that he was gone, there was a gnawing sensation in the pit of her stomach that wouldn't be quieted. "...I..." She shook her head some more, then struggled to look behind her. Milliardo was somewhere behind the crowd, probably wondering where she was. There were a few choice words she wanted to put before him, too. "I have to go..." She pulled away stiffly, then jogged into the crowd, her eyes tearing up as she fled. Duo was left to sway slightly from anguish, hyperventilating and looking all around with fearsome eyes. Without warning, he picked a direction and ran, hoping to find even a tiny clue about Heero's abductors before he totally lost his mind.

**********  
  


Once word spread through the network of railway police that there were saboteurs running all over the countryside, all traffic west of London was halted. Patrols were dispatched to all points around and between the reported disturbances. Many refunds had to be paid to the passengers who found themselves in a part of the country where they never expected to be. Some threatened to tell the newspapers, but rather than encourage any negative publicity, they were paid extra for their silence. No mention of the disruption in service ever made it past a small circle of railroad employees, who were also given a little something extra in their pay packets. No one could ever know how easy it was for amateur crooks to hijack His Majesty's rolling stock; there could have been widespread panic. Thankfully, the worst damage incurred was from a cargo train slamming into a stationary caboose, abandoned on the tracks. The caboose was demolished, but no one was hurt.

Lucrezia ended her hike at the first town she happened across, and stayed there until she could hitch a ride back to civilisation, but as soon as she was able to regroup with Relena and Milliardo, they all got into a terrible fight, and she was off again just as quickly. Quatre's sisters all retreated from their positions before they could be discovered by the authorities, and since both of the signalmen they overcame were too embarassed to give an accurate description of their attackers, the police spent hours looking for entirely the wrong individuals.

Duo was beside himself with grief, and wandered for hours through the countryside, calling Heero's name until his voice gave out. Trowa eventually convinced him to give up the search, but it took some doing. When they finally got back to Birmingham, Sally was waiting for them at the rendez-vous point, but Wufei was gone too. She recounted the way he had bolted, but it paled in comparison to what happened to Heero. They took their long faces with them back to London, where the gravity of the situation set in like a sack of doorknobs to the stomach.

As for Heero, he hardly felt a thing. Faced with so many pursuers, and after such a tiring battle beforehand, he was no match for the men who seemingly came out of nowhere to pounce on him, as if they knew precisely when and where he'd be. He went down quickly, but not quietly. Several attackers were injured, but their goal was attained. It was mere seconds before the lights went out in his world, and he was dragged off in darkness even while the sun beat down on him, unnoticed.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Ninety-One: Tension bubbles over at the mansion as Duo loses his grip, and subsequently confronts Wufei, demanding information about Heero. Lucrezia flees to the north, to regroup with some old acquaintances, and stumbles upon a curious clue._

_I'VE GOT MY GROOVE BACK! YEE-HAW!!!_ =^_^= *cough* I'm...delighted. Anyway...I'm not going to mince words, after a two month absence, there's absolutely no reason for you guys to believe anything I say... =9_9= ...but I'm going to set a date of October 30th for Episode 91. (I wouldn't publish on Halloween, no way. =^_~= ) Ja ne!


	91. Black Raincloud

**Warning:** Mild violence. 

**Disclaimer:** These characters are used and abused without permission. But they enjoy it. =^_~=

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Ninety-One: Black Raincloud

_"We experience moments absolutely free from worry. These brief respites are called panic." ~Cullen Hightower _

August 27th, 1903

Soon after the confrontation with Milliardo, when she learned exactly what he thought of her, and of Heero, Lucrezia found she could no longer live under the same roof with a man who didn't trust her. Sally was more than willing to put her up for a few days while she decided what to do next, but staying there was equally unbearable. The last several years of her life suddenly felt like a total waste, and the manner in which she left her family in Greece thoroughly burned her bridges. She needed some time and space to think; Sally understood, and let her go, though neither one really knew where she was going to end up. All she took with her was one ratty suitcase, the same one she had hauled all over Europe hiding from her aristocratic parents.

Unlike Dorothy, who had been frequently cash-strapped but unwilling to do anything about it, Lucrezia thought nothing of doing some odd jobs for the elderly over the course of three days, in order to earn a train fare to somewhere. Once she felt she had enough, there was also the problem of where to go. She couldn't face Duo and the others just then, she couldn't go home, and she couldn't imagine any place on earth where she could make a truly fresh start and forget her past a second time. Then, standing on the platform of a bland and dreary train station, she looked up and saw a name written in chalk on the destinations board, and recognized it. It was the name of the largest town within walking distance of a tiny village she used to know, and it beckoned to her. She boarded a train, and throughout the journey the memory of her last words with her beloved haunted her, to the point where she very nearly cried.

~~~~~~~~~~

They stood in the foyer to Sutherby House. They had barely gotten past the front door when the argument flared up again. Relena retreated quickly to her room; she had already heard what they had to say and didn't care to hear it again. At the end of her rope, Lucrezia tried everything to be listened to, but it wasn't working. Milliardo was intent on defending everything he did and, as a bonus, also seemed to be highly critical of Lucrezia and her pacifist attitude. He seemed to be implying that she picked it up from someone else, and when he stopped implying it and tried to actually say it, he caught himself, unwilling to hear the words come out of his own mouth. "Never mind," he muttered in disgust, turning away.

Lucrezia angled around him, poking an angry finger in his face. She knew what he was trying to say, and she didn't like it. "No, I want to hear this. If you're hinting at something, why don't you save us all the trouble and just spit it out?"

Suddenly he wished he had let it rest an hour ago instead of stoking the fire as much as he did. He sighed and made a half-turn toward her, holding back a snarl of contempt. "You and Heero were living in the same house for a long time before I returned...and you seem to have the same 'philosophy' toward my efforts. I can't help but wonder--"

"Okay, stop right there," she spat back. "If you think I would court someone else behind your back...you are out...of your mind. And if you think I'd want to be with someone that much younger than me, just to spite you, you don't even have a mind to be out of!"

Again, Milliardo turned away. "I'd rather not discuss it if it's all the same to you."

"You brought it up!" shouted Lucrezia, as angry as he had ever heard her. Then she calmed down, paced a bit in either direction, and looked up at the back of his head with a scowl. "You know what? .....if you don't trust me...maybe we shouldn't be working together."

And then came the terrible confirmation. "Maybe not."

That was that. She packed her bag with everything she had before he returned from South Africa, leaving the rest behind, and left the house that very night. Not for a moment longer was she about to live with a person who looked down on her for something that she never even did. It was too much.

~~~~~~~~~~ 

By midday, Lucrezia reached the village north of London where she found some of the first kind English folk willing to take her in. It all looked remarkably the same, except the pub had a new sandwich board on the sidewalk advertising the daily specials. The quaint flagstone cottages with thatched roofs were still there, and so was the broad, circular fountain in the centre of town where some ducks were wandering, looking for breadcrumbs to scoop up with their beaks. _This is where it started...for me, at least,_ she thought with a mixture of nostalgia and trepidation. _Jeffrhyss, Giorgenson, the underground war...everything._ A few people recognized her and said hello as she wandered down the cobbled streets that swooped up and bowed down with the ever-changing grade of the landscape, but she didn't stop to talk to them, choosing instead the most direct route back to the post office, her old hideaway.

Lucrezia stepped through the door of the gray stone building and indulged in an unexpected sigh of relief. Mavis Trimble, the dear old lady who gave her shelter in her time of need, was still there, selling stamps and newspapers from behind a little wooden counter as she always had done. Her husband was nowhere to be seen, but his muddy boots were on the mat by the door. Two more little old ladies were at the counter, gossiping over their purchases, but as soon as they said their goodbyes and Mrs. Trimble looked up, her eyes glowed joyously."Lucy! Dear!" she exclaimed, rushing out from behind the counter to give her former lodger a gracious hand clasp. "Oooh, we did miss you! Where've you been 'iding yerself?"

There was so much she wished she could have said to the old woman, who had almost served as a mother figure in some odd way, but details were precious, as well as dangerous. "I didn't mean to disappear like that..."

Mrs. Trimble seemed to know that something was wrong, and looked her over like a naughty child. "Be honest...it were Lord Jeffrhyss, weren't it?"

Lucrezia sighed deeply from the shoulders on down, her head hanging at the floor for awhile until she could muster the strength to drag it back up again. "He can be very persuasive."

"...'ere, 'e dinnit make you into a skivvy, did 'e?" Mrs. Trimble asked in a half-whisper, out of fear for Lucrezia developing washday-red hands or housemaid's knee.

Lucrezia counted her short list of blessings. "Secretary."

"Well! Fate's a fine thing, lucky you turned up when you did! I were jus' about to chuck these in the bin!" Mrs. Trimble let go of the young woman's hands and trotted behind the counter again, bending down with a slight grunt to retrive a sizable cardboard box from the bottom shelf. As she arose, Lucrezia saw that it was stuffed full with letters and telegrams, and tied together with string so the whole mess wouldn't spill over the sides. "For months and months there ain't been nothing, then all of a sudden _this_! They've been pilin' up fer _weeks_, an' nobody comes to collect 'em no more." She handed the box to Lucrezia, who still didn't understand what it was for, then stepped back and wrung her hands questioningly. "I suppose you've got to rush back to 'im and deliver these..."

Holding the bottom of the box with one hand and flipping through the letters with the other, Lucrezia noticed a startling similarity. Every single piece was addressed to Lord Jeffrhyss. She herself knew that he had vacated the farmhouse by the mill a long time ago, so it was terribly odd that so many people would still be writing to him there. _Something's wrong...I need to have a good long look at these...she obviously thinks I was sent here to get them, so there's no harm in letting that lie slide, but I need to rest awhile before doing anything else._ She looked up at Mrs. Trimble and smiled. "I've got time for a cup of tea." Mrs. Trimble smiled also, and put the 'Closed' sign up before leading her into the back room.

Mr. Trimble was in the back when they surprised him, and he was equally glad to see the young lady again. The three of them sat down to dinner with tea and sweet rolls, exchanging stories about where they had been and what had gone on since Lucrezia disappeared from the village. Then, they let her have some quiet time in her old room, where she was boarded during her stint as deputy postmistress. Perching on the bed and tucking both feet underneath her, she completely untied the string from the large bundle of letters, telegrams, and hand-delivered memorandi, inspecting them closely. The dates on the postmarks stretched back for months, and the frequency had been increasing of late, until there was a new letter or two almost every day. Sneering on the inside, she picked a few letters at random, and opened them. The messages were brief, but eye-opening.

_"Still awaiting instructions. Window of opportunity is narrowing. Reply appreciated."_

"Have obtained blasting materials, but transport did not arrive. If the plan has changed, please advise me."

"Where are you? I waited with the package for six hours, but you never arrived. Master Ok-kyun is livid. He directs that if you do not come forward with a written apology soon, he will sever diplomatic relations."

"Please respond. Have tried you at Wight, Charleston, and Grenoble base without success."

"Your Lordship, I cannot accept that you are continuing to ignore me, not after everything I've done for you. Remember Lake Nipissing. That is all I should need to say."

"What's going on? Nobody can find you. Where are you?"

They went on and on, just like that. Dozens of complaint letters all very confused and troubled that they could no longer find, contact, or converse with Lord Jeffrhyss. It didn't make sense. Was he in hiding? Was he ill? Had he taken a secret vacation? And why would he do so and not tell all these people that he would be out of reach for that time? It seemed an abnormally shoddy way to run a previsiously clockwork operation, in her mind, and she stared blankly into the walls of her room for awhile, struggling to comprehend it.

Finally, she decided that she had to bring the letters to the attention of Duo and the others, but didn't feel ready for the flood of emotions that would bowl her over upon returning to London. She tucked the box under her bed and went back downstairs to spend more time with the Trimbles. A decision regarding the letters would come later.

********** 

Relena had a rough time of it after the train incident. It was all traumatic as a whole, but watching what happened to Heero was the worst. About a dozen men with horses corralled him, fought him, and eventually knocked him unconscious and hauled him off in a rickety cart, tied up tightly with brand new ropes. It was so stressing that she had to take a few days off from her duties at Sutherby House, which was nearly finished all renovations and preparing to accept its first bookings for the autumn. Marcus came to visit her frequently, as he had done since arranging a temporary apartment for himself in Southampton, with his parents' blessing. Since that afternoon bore the first patch of sun the region had seen that whole week, he persuaded her to take a walk with him about the grounds, and used the time to gently needle her about giving him a job at the hotel, so they could be close to each other more often.

"Now, I don't want any special consideration just because we're...very well acquainted," he said as they shoofed their feet through piles of leaves lovingly raked together by the groundskeepers. "Just give me a chance to interview for a position like anyone else would! I'm not a golden child with a silver spoon in his mouth, I can actually _work_ for a living. Father had me working in the stables when I was six! I know there's _plenty_ of things I could do around the hotel, I just..." They stopped, looking away from each other shyly. "I want the chance for us to be.....near each other."

The subject hardly registered with Relena, not in the spirit in which it was intended, but she managed to sound sympathetic anyway. "I know you do..."

"A porter! Can you use an extra porter? I can carry one bag in each hand, and a third with my teeth, see?" With a silly grin, Marcus swooped down and grabbed a short, thick twig off the ground, then held it in his teeth like a suitcase handle. Then he mimed picking up two other cases and squatted, bobbing back and forth comically and stopping to scratch his head and under his arms like a trained monkey. Just as he hoped, Relena laughed, at least for a little while.

She picked up a bright red leaf and began tearing little bits off of it as she walked. "I've...handed over the staffing arrangements to the new manager. I can't seem to concentrate on it right now."

"You could put in a good word for me, though," Marcus prodded. "I know...I'll be quality control. Checking to see that there's a fresh cherry on top of every fruit cocktail, and making sure the mints for the pillows are properly wrapped. And after that, I can wash the floors, dust the ornaments, shine the little brass room numbers on peoples' doors, and those are all things I could do _quite_ well, I might add." He squinted at Relena with his hands in his pockets. "Are you listening to me?"

"Sure, sure...you want to wash the pillows with fruit cocktail."

"What?"

"What?" It took her a moment to catch up, and when she did, she turned faintly pink like the fading petals of the summer's last rose. "I'm sorry...I'm not myself lately."

"No, I can see that you're not." Marcus then did something very out of character; he began to get worried. "You're not...having second thoughts, are you?"

Relena scoffed and sighed at once, glaring up at the sky in frustration, then looked at him like the daft little boy he usually was. "Don't be silly, I _want_ you here....you're my cool breeze by the seaside. I _need_ your calming influence to keep me sane."

Marcus made a sour face at the horizon. "Why would you want to be sane? Sounds bloody boring if you ask me..."

They talked and chatted the rest of the way up to the house, though Marcus still did most of the talking. When they reached the new front foyer of the hotel, they were greeted by some of the new staff, a pair of chambermaids, a _real_ hall porter, and they even got a glimpse of the manager. Then a boy in uniform came out from the inner reaches of the house with a bundle of mail, hand-delivering each piece to the persons in question. He had about half a dozen letters left and a box roughly one foot in length, perhaps a little more, and when he spotted Relena, he approached her meekly, handing her the brown paper parcel with due deference.

"Maybe you could make a _new_ position for me," Marcus went on without noticing. "...'Chief Executive in charge of Candle Snuffing'," he said regally, drawing his hand across an imaginary brass plaque on an imaginary office door and chuckling.

Relena wasn't listening. The box had her full attention, and she couldn't understand why. Something about the handwriting on the label was oddly familiar, and there were problems with the address. Whoever wrote the label knew where Sutherby House was, but didn't know the postcode. Judging by the marks in red ink from various postal workers, it had floated around at least one sorting office while they tried to figure out where it should go. Fortunately, some astute person had located the proper code and written it in, making the parcel deliverable at last. There it sat, in the recipient's hands, teasing her.

While Marcus continued to babble about nothing of importance, she untied the string around the box and removed the lid. Inside, wrapped in delicate tissue paper, was some kind of toy, a stuffed doll in the shape of a bear. It had an adorable fuzzy brown face with black button eyes and a hand-sewn leather patch for a nose. It was wearing a tiny waistcoat made of rich red velvet and brass buttons, and his limbs appeared to be poseable. There was also a notecard in a small white envelope, resting beside the bear. Relena picked it up, read her own name on the front, and a wave of nausea shot up from her stomach straight to the back of her throat. She knew that handwriting after all. It was Heero's.

By now, Marcus was looking over her shoulder, sensing once again that her attention was waning. He saw the bear in the box and hummed with interest. "Dear me...someone's got an admirer," he cooed jokingly.

It was a blessing that her back was turned, for she could feel fresh tears stinging her eyes. She flipped over the lid to the box and read the postmark, confirming that the package had been sent the very same day that Heero was captured. _He must have known they'd take him...maybe this is his way of saying.....goodbye..._ She put a hand firmly to her mouth, to keep from sobbing out loud, and then quickly composed herself before Marcus could notice that she was in distress. "I'm just...going to go powder my nose for a minute...a-and then we'll...see what kind of job we can find for you to do, okay?" Then she quickly trotted away, up the stairs and out of sight, leaving Marcus to wonder if he'd done something wrong.

********** 

It was just as well that Bridlewood had Merlyn to fall back on in the kitchen, because when Duo got back, he was utterly useless. Grief-stricken, he was unable to concentrate on even the simplest tasks, and carried a little black rain cloud everywhere he went, hovering just over his head so that anyone who stood too close would get just as drenched in sorrow as he. Then, he underwent a dramatic and frightening change, his sadness transmuting into blinding red rage. His temper became terrible, and his mood swings unpredictable. He took to slamming doors everywhere he went, and other miscellaneous abuses of inanimate objects in order to let off steam without belting someone. Heero was gone, and blame had to be cast.

He spent yet another miserable day stomping around the manor, feeling more and more helpless by the minute. He drank a bit, but no more than he could stand, for he found he had a bit of a weak stomach for the stuff when he was under severe stress. Last night, he'd had just enough to give him a bit of a headache the next morning, so he was stomping through the kitchen looking for a glass of water to take a powdered painkiller with when he slammed a cupboard door shut and Merlyn let him have it with a vicious glare. "Steady on, I've got a soufflé in there!" she whispered harshly, pointing to the oven right next to the cupboard.

Duo couldn't be bothered acknowledging her remark. He filled his water glass, choked down the medication, and stomped away again, heading for the cold storage room where he was still sleeping on the floor. His old room up in the attic had some plaster cracks fixed in the ceiling and was declared fit to use again, but he couldn't stand the thought of sleeping there alone. Quatre and Trowa were there waiting for him; they had set up a small folding table and a few chairs, just to make it livable as a meeting area, and they stood around staring at the walls for several minutes. Until they got some information from their roving agent, Hilde, they didn't know what to do with themselves. They tried to file a missing person report at Scotland Yard, but weren't taken seriously by the desk clerk. The whole thing just reeked suspiciously of a setup, and since Wufei was the only one of their happy little group who ran off and couldn't be contacted, Duo had his suspicions.

At last, they heard the back door open, and in a few moments, their scout sludged into the storeroom, worn and haggard. Trowa and Quatre were up out of their seats in a flash, and Duo whirled around also. "Well??" they all asked, overlapping each other slightly.

Hilde took off her little flowered hat and ruffled her hair back into place, clearly exhausted. She had been out all night and the day before, telling her friends on the street to watch out for Wufei. "I put the word out from here to Piccadilly. If anyone sees him, and he shouldn't be hard to spot, they'll tell him he's wanted."

"Too right, he's wanted," Duo grumbled. "Wanted like a hole in the head..."

Always the peacemaker, Trowa insinuated himself into Duo's airspace, holding his hands up in placation. "He'll show up, and when he does, I'm sure he'll tell us anything he's managed to find out."

"You think he's out there _looking_ for Heero!?" Duo snapped with ire. "Get over yourself! He probably knew all along that this was going to happen, and now that the deal's done, he's taken off with whatever they paid him! Dammit, I _knew_ we shouldn't have trusted that jerk!!" He stomped off to the side, running his hand through his bangs over and over. In reality, he blamed himself as much as Wufei; after all, he was second-in-command, and should have had a stronger grip on his team.

"Don't beat yourself up," Trowa said quietly, padding up and putting a hand on his shoulder. "If, and I really mean _if_ he had a hand in this...then he fooled _all_ of us."

On the other side of the room, Quatre folded his arms and shook his head. "I'm still not convinced he knew what was going to happen."

Duo snorted. "Oh, pull the other one, why doncha..."

"No, I'm serious!" Catching himself before he revealed too much, Quatre delicately calculated how to get his point across safely. "Don't ask why, but...I'm a pretty good judge of character, and I can read people _very_ well, and...I just don't think Wufei's responsible for this. If he'd been planning Heero's capture all along, I think I would've known about it."

It was difficult to doubt Quatre's sincerity, but Duo just felt it was wasted on the likes of Wufei. After running away from his duties the way he did, and the sudden appearance of all those men on horseback who seemed to be lying in wait for their team leader, what was Duo supposed to think? He shook his head at the floor. "You believe what you want. Until I'm convinced otherwise, he's not worth the dynamite it'd take to blow 'im to hell."

While they all stood around feeling very much afraid of Duo at that moment, there was a slight bustling outside in the kitchen. A door opening, followed by voices, followed by footsteps. Almost immediately afterwards, Wufei came sauntering in the cold room door, frowning. "Alright, can you make this quick? I've got--"

In a brown and white blur, Duo bounded over to him in what seemed like a single leap, slammed the door behind him, grabbed him by two handfuls of his white tunic and slammed him hard against the windowed wall. He was inches away from throttling him, but the others managed to restrain him in time, pulling him back to a safe distance. Wufei was taken aback, unsure of what he had done wrong until Duo started flinging furious accusations at him, all while struggling against his captors. "You stinking traitor! You sold us out!" he screeched.

Understandably in shock, Wufei plastered himself against the wall, finding it the only remotely safe place in the room. "What are you talking about!? I didn't sell _anybody_ out!"

"How much did you get, huh!?" Duo snarled. "How much for telling them where to find Heero!?"

Wufei straightened up, looking to the side thoughtfully as if suddenly remembering the last number to a complicated combination lock. "...so it's true."

From his place at Duo's left-hand side, latched onto his arm and not letting go, Trowa narrowed his eyes. "What's true?"

It looked like the others might have unleashed Duo after all after hearing his half-admission, so Wufei threw up his hands defensively. "I didn't have _anything_ to do with it!"

"_Do with what_!?" Duo hollered, leaning forward against the arms barricading him.

Guiltily, Wufei glanced at the floor, and an eerie calm befell the lot. Duo stopped struggling, and everyone let go of him so he could hear what the boy had to say. "I...overheard it from a couple of agents. Heero was repatriated by Jeffrhyss." A chill shot through the room with those words, and the group's collective spirit began to sink. "They were talking about how disappointed they were that they didn't find him first. Apparently there was a hefty reward on his head, and--"

"Heero told me that he asked you to _listen_ to the agent grapevine for anything suspicious, and you and I both know he suspected something was going to happen to him." Duo had broken away from the others by surprise and strode forward to poke Wufei's shoulder angrily. The other three weren't too sure what he was talking about, but it seemed reasonable for Heero to confide in his most trusted friend if he thought he was in danger. It was sadly poetic, in a way.

"Well, I guess my contacts aren't as loyal to me as I thought," Wufei whined. "What am I supposed to do about it?"

Trowa stepped forward, folding his arms sternly. "So...you've known almost since it happened that Heero was in serious trouble...and you didn't come back and _tell_ us?"

This in particular got badly on Wufei's nerves, and he bristled. "Pardon me for having things to do."

Duo walked away briskly, rubbing his temples with both hands. "I can't believe this. It's not happening, it's a nightmare. I'm gonna wake up in a minute next to an empty box of cheese danishes."

"What are they going to do with him?" Hilde asked in a high-pitched voice.

Somehow, the sight and sound of Hilde got through to Wufei in a way that none of the others could. He seemed to slowly respond to her fearful voice and plaintive eyes, first with a twitch and then by ducking his head shamefully in her direction. "He was declared a berserker weeks ago. Berserker status means the organization can use any means necessary to bring him under control. It means they considered him a threat to their security...and also a traitor to the cause."

Quatre was getting an uncomfortable knot in his stomach, so he just had to ask. "What's the punishment for desertion?"

To their surprise, Wufei answered, but he kept looking at Hilde the entire time, as if she was the only one in the room. "You get thrown in 'the pit'. It's a stone-walled dungeon underneath headquarters, like a jail cell. All of the worst offenders get tossed in there, but berserkers go to the very bottom level." He paused, and everyone knew that there was more, perhaps the worst news of all. "Once you're locked up...they don't feed you."

That made Duo turn around and take notice. Up until then, he had been facing an empty corner of the room, trying to convince himself that he was hopelessly drunk and the whole situation would go away as soon as he got some strong coffee into him. He swallowed. "For how long?"

Only now was it beginning to sink in with Wufei that he might have dropped the ball a little on the last mission. He looked away. "For as long as it takes."

Hilde squeaked. "You mean...they're starving him to death? Right now?"

Just when they all thought Wufei was becoming more sympathetic, he shrugged. "I wouldn't have thought so...I mean, Jeffrhyss is no fool, I can't believe he'd just throw away such a valuable prototype."

That was the last straw. Duo leapt on Wufei, grabbing his shirt with both hands, and actually lifted him up off the ground, pinning him to the wall. The others tried to pry him away, as before, but this time even their combined strength couldn't budge him. "Now, you get something straight _right now_!!" he yelled up at Wufei's paralytic face. "Heero's not a machine, he's a _person_! He's changed! He doesn't take orders from a deranged megalomaniac anymore! He works just like normal people, goes to restaurants and picture houses just like normal people, he's even got a cat! Finds bits of yarn and string for her to play with! He likes honey on his toast, and beef stew with potato fritters! He cracked a joke once while we were in the park and we laughed about it for _days_! He plays the piano, he appreciates art, he even told me that if he survived past the age of eighteen he wanted to visit his ancestral home and look for his family! _He is a thinking, feeling person! He is NOT a 'PROTOTYPE'!_"

Quatre had to take a few steps back during the little speech, for Duo's extremely elevated anger levels were giving him a headache. Wufei, once he shut his eyes, swallowed, and decided he was too young to die right that minute, looked down at his assailant calmly. "Put me down, please."

Trowa kept a firm grip on both of them, by the arms. "Duo, put him down."

Grudgingly, Duo put him down.

Though she was shaking a bit, Hilde was taking the news remarkably well, probably choosing to break down at some other place and time where she couldn't be observed. "So, how do we get him out?"

Wufei glared. "There _is_ no 'out'. Headquarters is a stronghold like no other. Most of us don't even know where it is!"

Duo felt his anger bubbling up again, but kept his distance this time, simply pointing. "_You_ left your post when we needed you. _You_ disappeared when Heero needed you most, and now you're gonna make it up to him. You _find_ out where that base is, as quickly as possible, because if you don't, there's won't be a safe place for you to hide! Not _anywhere_!" He left no room for doubt in the matter, and left the storeroom soon after, leaving the rest of them to see the traitor to the door. Quatre watched him leave with a sinking feeling; the Duo he used to know was slipping away bit by bit, he could feel it.

********** 

As impressive as the underground compound on the Isle of Wight was, it couldn't hold a candle to the true center of operations for Lord Jeffrhyss' empire. It had actually been drilled into a mountainside, somewhere between the borders of France, Italy, and Switzerland. Only the highest-ranking officials were generally allowed into the control center, so it was surprising to most if not all who were present when a young man of about eighteen knocked on the door of the innermost war room. He had armed guards with him. He had a signed letter from Lord Jeffrhyss permitting him to go anywhere he pleased. He had a bad attitude as well, and it showed.

Byron set up shop in the mountain stronghold long before Heero was ever captured. In Jeffrhyss' absence, his power seemed absolute. Anything he wanted, he could have. Anyone he didn't get along with, he could send packing. Behind closed doors, there were tremendous rumblings against their missing Emperor, wondering how he could have the audacity to leave such a greedy, grasping, snivelling twerp in charge while he played hooky for weeks on end, but no one had the courage to say so in front of the newer, younger despot. When word came through that Heero had been found and was being brought in for the promised reward money, Byron kicked his maniacal manipulations into high-gear, preparing for the arrival of his broken nemesis.

He gave remote instructions on how to deal with Heero without actually meeting him, as he wanted to savour that moment later. The fallen agent was tied up and blindfolded for the journey into France, smuggled across the channel on a cargo barge as usual, and upon reaching the stronghold, was handed over to Jeffrhyss' goons and given a sound beating just for the hell of it. It was little more than he had ever received on any other occasion, but they were careful not to do any permanent damage; Byron made it very clear that he wanted Heero alive.

Then came the time when Byron decided he would meet with the accused before sentencing. He waited in the great hall of the stronghold, a medieval-looking place with hewn stone walls, floor and ceiling, but not after making a few changes to suit his ego. He had the electric lights in the hall replaced with flaming torches, just for effect, and moved the large meeting table and all the chairs out of the way to make it all seem more ominous. As a finishing touch, he had an antique, gilded, throne-like chair put in, just for that one meeting, and he lounged in it shamelessly while his underlings milled around, sweeping and polishing whatever they could to make the room perfect. While watching them toil, Byron took a sip from a triangular liqueur glass, scowled, and then shot a nasty look at the servant who brought it to him. "You call this a Manhattan!? What am I _paying_ you for!?"

The servant in gray rags slunk away, taking the drink and tray with him. It wasn't at all unusual to get yelled at by 'Lord' Byron, but as long as he had that signed letter from Jeffrhyss, he could treat the workers any way he wanted.

Then, the pre-appointed time came. Byron began buffing his nails on the lapel of his new business suit just as the great wooden doors to the chamber opened, and electric light streamed in from the hallway beyond. In walked two great burly brutes in black uniforms, dragging a worn-out Heero between them, practically lifting him off the floor by his upper arms. He was wearing the common rags of a grunt, plain grey and torn in various places, and each of his limbs was chained to a matching limb on the guards beside him. The bruising he'd received on his first night was slowly wearing away, but there was a new problem; he had not been fed for three whole days. Behind the trio were three more guards, each carrying a rifle. Even in his exhausted state, Heero was still considered one of the absolute most dangerous agents in the whole organization, and they weren't about to take any chances with him.

Byron smiled and rose from his throne with a smirk. "Ahhh, the return of the prodigal son," he purred, opening his arms wide. "Welcome, friend."

Heero was tired, but still very much coherent. "How about a friendly couple of hours alone with my lawyer?" he snarked.

"Ooooh, clever," said Byron, "but you know...if I thought it'd do you an ounce of good, I'd pay his fee myself." He clasped his hands in front of him, looked Heero up and down, and shook his head, clucking his tongue. "You don't look well at _all_."

The captive tossed his head a little to throw a thick strand of dusty hair out of his eyes, since his hands were out of commission. "If you have a minute in-between your manicures and your snooker tournaments, maybe you could talk to the catering staff around here. They're a little slow with the lunch cart."

"Let me explain one or two things to you," Byron said in a pleasantly sarcastic tone, shoving one of the guards aside so he could sling an arm around Heero's shoulders. "A member of our magnificent family has stabbed us in our collective back and thinks he can get away with it. We don't take kindly to that sort of treatment. The _family_...doesn't deserve that treatment."

Heero sighed a bit. "Tell me I'm adopted..."

"I know that underneath that shabby veil of sarcasm that you are _very_ much aware of how much trouble you are in," Byron cackled. "You're a berserker! The most glamorous kind of troublemaker Jeffrhyss could come up with. You should be proud...there hasn't been one since before either one of us were born."

"And he put you in charge of dispatching me?" Heero asked disbelievingly. "I'm rather surprised he wasn't here to discipline me in person. You can't duplicate that kind of..._relationship_.....overnight."

Byron stood back, folded his arms, and smiled at his own ingenuity. "Of course not." Then, tired from all his hard gloating, he turned away, going to sit back on his throne for awhile. "See our 'Guest of Honour' back to his suite, would you?" he asked the guards.

They took Heero away. They took him down so many stairs that they couldn't be counted, and the air grew colder, and staler. Lights were placed further and further apart, until one had to be guided by one's own intuition to find the way. Underfoot, the stones grew slippery with the constant dripping of ground water, encouraging the growth of slime and other noxious substances that were toxic to the breathing passages. There was no other sound in this, the lowest level of the tall, narrow prison complex, of which Heero was now the sole resident. Not even rats could survive so deep, with so little to subsist on. This was the darkest, dankest, most soul-numbing place in the known world for a person to be.

This was 'the pit'.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Ninety-Two: Duo undergoes a gradual and frightening change as he vows to retrive Heero from Jeffrhyss' clutches. Wufei continues his psychological torture of Treize, and finally appears to make a dent in his confidence. Noin comes forward with the clues she found up north._

Poor Hee-Chan! ...I seem to have a fetish with confining him in cold, dark, stone-filled spaces, don't I? It appeals to my sadistic side. *evil authoress cackle* Well! It certainly is good to be (reasonably) back on schedule! Without futher ado, I'm going to set a date of November 12th for the next installment, and don't forget Nov. 11th is Remembrance Day in the Commonwealth countries. Buy a poppy pin from a veteran and do your bit for Queen and country! *salutes*


	92. Oedipus Invitus

**Warning:** Any religious viewpoints expressed are opinions of the characters, not the authoress. 

**Disclaimer:** These characters are used and abused without permission. But they enjoy it. =^_~=

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Ninety-Two: Oedipus Invitus

_"You can't unring a bell." ~Anonymous _

September 6th, 1903

Sally gaped at the sheer number of envelopes that had just been dumped on her desk. It was a mountain of letters, telegrams and envelopes the likes of which she had never seen before, and they all bore the striking similarity of being address to the same man, who apparently hadn't answered a single summons. As it settled, and as a few pieces dropped over the side and onto the floor, she waited while Lucrezia put the empty box aside and sat down opposite her with a tired but determined expression, and arched an eyebrow at her silently.

Lucrezia leaned back and folded her arms. "There's more."

"More than _this_?" Sally exclaimed.

"They kept coming even while I was there. I telegraphed Mrs. Trimble as soon as I got back, and they were _sill_ arriving, three, even four at a time."

"Weird." The doctor picked up one after the other, read the names on each one, and shook her head, puzzled. "Have you read them all?"

Sighing in frustration, Lucrezia looked down at the floor. "There's too many, and some of them are in languages I can't read."

Sally tapped one of the stiff envelopes against her fingernails, and bit her lip, and thought. "Duo needs to see these. It could mean something."

Of course, it was the obvious solution, but something must have made Lucrezia apprehensive about doing so, else it would have been done already. She began picking guiltily at her dress, and didn't look up for several seconds. "Would you mind coming with me? He must be in a terrible state by now, and...I haven't been helping much lately..."

Her friend smiled warmly, and rose to fetch her hat and gloves. "As if you need to ask."

********** 

Heero went into his unlit cell with the steely determination to hang on long enough for Lord Jeffrhyss to sort out his subordinate. For the first few days, it worked. Dressed in rags though he was, with an iron shackle around his left ankle and a heavy chain attached, bolting him to the floor, he came up with a plan of meditation, deep breathing, and minimal movement. _As soon as Jeffrhyss finds out about this, he'll demote Byron to janitor and send someone down to get me out of here,_ he told himself. _It won't be long._

Somehow, the first few days turned into a week, and Jeffrhyss didn't show. The intention of not moving to conserve precious calories became an unfortunate necessity as he got hungrier and hungrier. No amount of meditation could block the gnawing stomach pain, dizziness, headaches and occasional blackouts that started slowly and grew as the lonely hours ticked by, and then Heero began to get worried.

After many days of darkness, listening only to the syncopated dripping of water as it formed tiny pools in the hollows of the stones below, there was at last a sound coming from the end of the long hallway to the carved stone stairs. Far off in the distance, a heavy door opened, bringing with it a few faint streaks of yellowish-white light, but the rays all but died before reaching the cell. A lone figure came sauntering down the hall with an oil lantern, his hard-soled shoes making an ominous clip-clop noise that echoed at will. It was too even and able-bodied a sound to be Jeffrhyss, which depressed Heero even further.

Byron waltzed up to the only barred wall of the rocky cage, carrying a lamp in one hand and what appeared to be an enormous turkey sandwich on a fluffy kaiser roll, with fresh lettuce, sliced tomato, cheese, and just a hint of Dijon mustard in the other. He was chowing down shamelessly, and spoke with his mouth full. "You should've _seen_ the buffet at the shareholders' meeting! It was unbelievable!"

Even the soft orange glow of the lantern's flame was too much for Heero's eyes, so he turned his head in disgust, but could still smell the food. It was tortuous. "You came...all the way down here...just to tell me that?" he said tiredly.

Byron set the lantern down on the floor and took another big bite of his sandwich. "It's also my lunch break. My personal trainer wants me to take a walk a half-hour after each meal, and I couldn't wait that long." He swallowed and smirked, smacking his lips. "And I just _had_ to come down and visit my number-one fan!"

"Don't waste that garbage on me," Heero rasped, leaning against the farthest stone wall, slowly letting his eyes adjust by degrees. "Save it for someone with...the energy to pretend they can't see through you." The mere effort of speaking was enough to leave him winded, and the growling of his stomach drowned out all else.

"You're not..._displeased_ with your accomodations, are you?" Byron swooned with a hand on his heart, acting terribly offended. He smirked again and took another leisurely bite of his lunch, this time dropping a buttery breadcrumb about the size of a walnut. It bounced to a stop just in front of the slimy iron bars, and Heero's gaze was riveted to the morsel while Byron rambled on. "I don't think you fully appreciate the rich history of this place," he said, waving a hand at the walls and ceiling. "It was apparently carved out of the mountainside hundreds of years ago, a secret under the protection of a clan that Jeffrhyss wiped out at one time or another. The caretakers tell me they found all sorts of artifacts inside when they cleaned it out for renovations...it might date all the way back to ancient Rome! What do you think about that?"

Heero had to shut his eyes again, to get the image of the breadcrumb out of his head. "What do you _want_, Byron?"

The jailer arched his eyebrows. "Oh! That's very nice of you to offer...hmm...what could I ask for? ...I know..." He crouched right where he stood. An inch to the right, and he would have squashed the bit of bread, which he hadn't noticed yet. "You seem to be well acquainted with the Peacecrafts.....that blond soldier-boy said he's acting on behalf of an anonymous third party. Normally, Cinq doesn't abide anonymity, but the majority has decided to let Peacecraft compete anyway. If he wins, they'll find out who he's working for at the initiation. I'm much less patient, however, and I'd _love_ to know who this mystery master is in advance.....is he royalty? ...a business mogul of some kind? ...someone in the government?" Silence followed, and he got a bit testy because of it. "Oh, come on! One little hint!"

"Even if I knew, I wouldn't tell you," Heero snarled.

"Not even if I could get you out of here?" Byron teased back.

An empty suggestion. "You'd never let me go that cheaply. And it wouldn't matter anyway...because Jeffrhyss will have your head...when he finds out about this." Heero watched his foe stand back up and languidly lick a patch of mustard off his thumb, unconcerned. The captive squinted. "He doesn't know, does he?"

Byron looked up in playful thought, humming. "No, I can honestly say, without a word of a lie, that no one has told Lord Jeffrhyss about your capture."

In the deathly quiet space between that concept and the next, Byron finished off his sandwich, and Heero became extremely distructful of everything he had told himself about his former master coming down to collect him. Suddenly in a panic, Heero forced himself to stand feebly, his eyes widening, and lurched as far forward as he could before the ankle chain stopped him, well away from the bars. "Where is he!?" he demanded urgently. At the moment, Jeffrhyss was the lesser of two evils, and the only person likely to save him from a long, painful, lingering death.

At first, Byron turned away, to prolong the agony, but gave in after a few moments, cruelly dangling clues in front of Heero like a salmon before a dancing circus bear. "When did you see him last? Can you remember?"

It took longer than usual for Heero to retrieve the information from his nutrient-deprived brain. "In Morocco...he was.....he was messing with my mind again...trying to win me back.....and I turned him down..."

"Oh, you did _more_ than turn him down," Byron finished for him, his mouth curling into a snakelike smile. "In fact, you did me a substantial favour."

Heero's mind raced. The desert trek, the grand assembly, the unexpected meeting with Relena, and finally, the confrontation with Jeffrhyss. He remembered, through a slightly blurred lens, aiming a gun at his mentor, and Relena trying to block the path of the bullet. He remembered being tackled by her brother, and squeezing the trigger out of reflex, and a scream, and a thud. He remembered the aftermath when the crowd finally cleared, when he and Trowa saw blood on the ground and high-tailed it out of the citadel with Lucrezia in tow. After so many weeks without any retribution for attacking his master, Heero had dared to think he was safe, that he was in some way forgiven, but another possibilty was emerging that he had never even counted upon. He swallowed, swaying a bit. "...what happened to him? .....where _is_ he??"

Byron folded his arms, his eyes narrowing. "You know how old I was when I joined up? Nine. Just nine years old. And I fought like _hell_ to be recognized for my talents.....but no. All I ever heard about...was _you_. Jeffrhyss couldn't be _bothered_ hand-training an ordinary whelp like me! I tried _so_ hard to be noticed through my efforts, but all I ever heard him talk about with his aides was 'Heero this' and 'Heero that'! He had so much invested in you that he couldn't even _see_ his other agents anymore! And I was there, for years and years, standing on the sidelines waiting for my big break...and now I've _got_ it!" He saw the look of horrified revelation in his victim's face, then chuckled. "You've already done so much for me, I can only ask you for one more thing.....to die." And then he turned and walked away.

Heero was unflattered by the undertones of jealousy. He tried to jump frantically toward the bars, but was caught by the ankle chain and fell to the ground unpleasantly. Hauling himself up on all fours, he reached out to grab handfuls of air as he hollered after the boy. The picture Byron had so vaguely drawn couldn't be true, it just couldn't. "What happened to Jeffrhyss!? I have a right to know! ...you can't hide it forever, not from everyone! ..._tell me_!!"

Only Byron's light, retreating footsteps answered back. Heero slumped, face-down on the cold, damp stones, exhausted. There would be no salvation or reprieve from his master, for his master was in no position to save anyone, least of all himself. He knew that now.

_...what have I gotten myself into?_

All delusions gone, tricky thinking was now the key to survival. He looked up at the discarded breadcrumb, and reached for it, but as much as he pulled and strained at the shackle holding him back, it remained a scant few inches beyond his fingers. He couldn't reach the bars, even as the iron cut into his foot and drew a pasty red circle around it. Ultimately, he gave up and collapsed again, panting from the agony of effort, and still tormented by the fading aromatic tendrils of turkey and fresh bread. That was the spot where he lost consciousness yet again, after struggling to come up with a plan while drenched in mortal futility. Not once did he consider that someone other than Jeffrhyss could have saved him, but it seemed too great a stretch of the imagination at the time.

********** 

Hilde felt both honoured and intimidated that she had been given the singular task of watching Wufei carefully, to make sure he did what he was asked. He was the only one of their group capable of finding out where Heero was being kept, but lately he had become shiftless and distant, as if he didn't quite grasp what was at stake. Sometimes he looked half-asleep, and other times he was hyperactive, often switching to one state within minutes of leaving another. Since he seemed to respond to Hilde more than the others, she was assigned to watch him all hours of the day, and remind him that he had a job to do. Contrary to Duo's hopes, she wasn't very good at it, but she hid this fact from him very well.

Wufei seemed to have his own agenda, a plan that he refused to share with anyone, but allowed Hilde to watch since she was glued to him wherever he went anyway. At that moment, he was dragging her by the arm down a posh-looking street in the business district, a place full of tall brick buildings with colourful awnings and uniformed doormen, banks and hotels and department stores and high-class office complexes. Hilde still wasn't sure where Wufei got his money, but he couldn't possibly have had enough to hang out with the upper crust in a place such as that, she thought. As far as she could tell, he was wasting time yet again, and it wasn't going to wash this time. "That does it," she grumped, tugging on her arm and trying to slow them both down. "You tell me what we're doing here or I'm not moving another step!"

To her surprise, Wufei stopped. "You're not moving another step anyway." He immediately started scanning each building for a specific target, then looked up at a massive clock built into the side of one of the tall brick spires in the square, then looked back down again. Rather quickly, he found what he was looking for, and grinned satanically. "Stay right here," he ordered, and then he took off running across the street, right into the heavy traffic of cabs, horses, motorcars and pedestrians. Hilde squeaked with shock and actually took one step off the curb, but had to jump back again, not confident enough to dodge vehicles the way he could.

While the housemaid watched helplessly, Wufei darted across to one of the impressive office buildings, and then snaked along the sidewalk to reach his target, none other than Count Khushrenada, who had just exited one of the banks after a less than successful meeting with the manager. Treize was walking north, and Wufei followed him, as close as two feet behind. Sensing something was amiss, Treize stopped, looked to either side and a bit behind him, but Wufei nibmly avoided his gaze, holding in peals of laughter. Finally they started walking again, only to stop a second time as the Count's vague sixth sense told him he wasn't alone, even in a street full of busy businessmen. This time, Wufei delicately tapped him on the shoulder and rocked back on his heels, clasping his hands behind him as he waited for the reaction of disgust he was relishing in advance.

Just as he planned, Treize turned around, saw Wufei's sunny smile, and crunched his hands tighter around the rolled-up newspaper he carried in slight annoyance. "You again?"

"I knew it! I knew you missed me!" the boy crowed, slinging a friendly arm around his comrade's back. "I just wondered what your plans were for lunch. Maybe we could share a surf n' turf platter somewhere, hm?"

"I wouldn't let _you_ choose the restaurant," Treize sniffed haughtily, shrugging off the arm. "I'm liable to end up with a mysterious case of food poisoning."

Wufei's eyebrows took an upward leap, though his eyelids remained at half-mast. "Ah...so you'll be dining at home, then?"

Still not seeing him as much of a threat, Treize merely narrowed his eyes curiously. "Why? What are you up to?"

"Just making a friendly inquiry, that's all! My goodness, don't you have a suspicious mind!" Whistling happily, Wufei turned away and walked back into traffic, effortlessly sauntering through the morass without getting so much as a scratch. When he got to the other side, Hilde looked significantly less happy than she did before.

"What was all that about?" she whined, having watched the time-wasting scene from start to finish.

Wufei was too far gone to even think about giving her answers. He was absolutely glowing from the knowledge that the immediate portion of his plan was falling neatly into place. "Never mind that now, I have to find a phone!" He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her off in another direction, laughing all the way. Hilde couldn't get a single word in edgewise as she was pulled behind him like a disobedient dog.

On the other side of the street, Treize paid no mind to the interruption, and made his way back to Lady Une's. He was already in a foul mood, for his upcoming nuptuals were constantly being delayed by his fiancée forever changing her mind. First she wanted an outdoor wedding. Then she wanted an indoor wedding with enough potted plants to make it seem like the outdoors. Then she wanted French catering, then Swiss, then Italian, then French again. Then she changed the date twice to accomodate relatives who had prior committments on the original date. Then she gained three pounds from stress-induced eating and had to have her dress altered. At that rate, they wouldn't be getting married until after the first snowfall, if they were very lucky.

As he walked in the door, the ever-snooty butler greeted him as usual, and Treize brushed him off in his normal uncaring manner. "Where's Madam?" he inquired blandly.

"Madam is answering a telegram from her Aunt Medea," said the butler. "Apparently there is a disagreement over the floral arrangements for the church."

The Count rolled his eyes selfishly. _Oh, Saints preserve us..._ He whipped the folded newspaper out from under his arm and batted it against his opposite hand, venting his frustration safely. "I'll be lunching alone, then."

"Very good, sir."

The butler trotted away to make the arrangements while Treize settled himself into the east dining room, an austentatious display of golden cherubs, red paisley wallpaper, crystal chandeliers and a long mahogany table that could easily seat twenty. He thought it a shame to let such finery go to waste in between dinner parties, so he had made it his personal luncheonette whenever his charming companion was otherwise engaged. Within minutes, the butler and one of the kitchen staff brought forth his meal on a wheeled cart of silver plate, delicately engraved with laurel leaves in the ancient Greek fashion. They laid out nut bread with seville marmalade, veal croquettes made with a delicate grating of fine imported cheese, a garden salad, lemon sponge, and white wine to wash it all down with. Once the bearers were dismissed, he inhaled the succulent aromas with immense anticipatory joy, but no sooner had he got stuck in than an argument coming from outside broke his peace.

Treize pulled a face, put down his fork, and picked up a croquette pastry, carrying it to the door and munching on it with every step. He threw open the heavy wooden slab and found the butler arguing with the house steward, apparently over whether or not to inform the Count of some minor trouble that had occurred earlier that day. He scowled them into silence, and they snapped to attention before him. "What's the matter?" he grunted, still chewing.

The butler nodded downwards in deference. "Terribly sorry, sir. There was a fracas earlier with the delivery boy from the green grocer's. A most..._unsanitary_ character. Mr. Hargreeves wishes to lodge a complaint with the firm."

"Indeed I do!" shouted the steward known as Hargreeves, a man somewhat younger than the butler but lacking nothing in the way of class and authority. "Fancy them hiring immigrants fresh off the boat like that! I can understand being short-staffed, but there's _no_ excuse for sending a greasy little Chinaman into a neighbourhood of this social standing!"

Suddenly, Treize was listening, and stopped just as he was about to take another bite. "...Chinaman?"

"Yes, sir, and I shall be having a _very_ strong word with their manager, I can promise you that!"

A greasy little Chinaman had delivered food to the house unexpectedly. For the first time in a long time, Treize began to panic as his own snarky voice echoed in his head. _"...liable to end up with a mysterious case of food poisoning!"_ He stared, horrified, at the half-eaten meat pastry in his hand, and dropped it on the floor, feeling a little queasy already. Swallowing down the taste of bile that was suddenly creeping up his throat, he wheeled on Hargreeves, his face slowly turning red with rage. "Tell me _exactly_ what happened. What did this fellow bring with him?"

Hargreeves was rather surprised at this. He himself was purported to have the worst temper in the house, not Treize. "The regular food order for the day, sir. Fruit, vegetables, meat, bread--"

"And your imported Limburger cheese as well, sir!" the butler cut in. "He very nearly dropped the lot tripping over the threshold."

Treize's eyes bugged out. "You let him _in_!?" he hollered, leaning almost right into them. Without waiting for an answer, he shoved past them both and bolted downstairs to the kitchen, clasping his neck with one hand and coughing instinctively, certain he had just been poisoned. He shouted for water, and no less than a dozen servants sprang forward to offer him some as he careened down the hall and into the main food preparation area, where the day's groceries were all laid out and being incorporated into the evening meal. It was impossible to tell which food was new and which had been there the day before. While his bumbling staff left their backs turned, Wufei could have contaminated it all with some mystery bacteria, probably smuggled out of a top-secret biological weapons lab, or at least off someone's filthy kitchen floor.

As he walked around in a slow circle, gazing with nauseating clarity at everything and everyone around him, he was just about to run upstairs and place an emergency call to Une's doctor when the butler found him again and announced that there was already an incoming telephone call for the Count. Treize stormed up the steps, shot through the halls like a big, angry bullet, grabbed the two-piece instrument out of the hands of a frightened servant, and bellowed into the receiver. "_What_!?"

There was a languid pause, and then Wufei's voice crackled over the line in sweet smugness. "You know, I just wanted to let you know that you were _so_ right about not eating out. I mean, if you go to any old place in town, you never know _who'll_ be handling your food, do you?"

Nothing on the Count moved except a single curled lip. "What...did you do?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, my lord Count," Wufei sang cheerily. Then, with no warning, he began coughing violently into the phone. Treize instinctively yanked the earpiece away from the audible spray of germs, then put it back, berating himself for his momentary stupidity, just in time to hear the boy clear his throat apologetically. "Sorry...must've picked up a little bug on the east side. I'm sure it's nothing."

Shaking with rage, Treize slammed the phone down and marched back to the kitchen. Everyone heard him coming, and some ran for cover, ducking out of sight just as he appeared in the doorway. "All of this has to go!" he shouted, pointing broadly at all the food scattered around the countertops. "Throw it away! Every last bit of it!"

Curiously apprehensive, the lowly dishwashers hastened to obey the order, while the butler and the cooks protested loudly about the unexplained waste, but Treize wasn't budging. He watched carefully as every scrap of food was chucked in the bin, then ordered that any utensils that couldn't be sterilized were to be thrown into the furnace at once. It was bedlam for several minutes as the entire culinary staff was transformed into a makeshift hazmat team, scrubbing down every surface with bleach until the fumes burned everyone's nostrils worse than the mystery disease they were trying to eradicate ever could.

On the other end of the telephone line, in the post office nearest to the spot where he confronted the Count, Wufei laughed so hard he nearly keeled over from the strain. All the bystanders in the post office had been watching curiously since the call began, some glaring at the noisy intrusion into their daily lives, and Hilde was embarassed just being there. She stared at the snickering lad and shook her head. "I can't believe you just did that." Wufei showed no signs of pulling himself together, so she hit him in the arm. "Stop laughing! There are innocent servants living in that house, not just Treize! Did you tamper with their food!?"

Still smiling, Wufei rubbed his arm and scoffed at her. "Of course not, but _he_ doesn't know that! It was just an innocent delivery..."

Hilde folded her arms sternly. "_This_ is how you spend your time instead of finding out where Heero is?"

That was when Wufei's outward behaviour dramatically changed. The smile disappeared, replaced with a disgusted expression as he grappled with the girl's utter unappreciation of his efforts. "I'm only doing this for you!!" he blared in disbelief.

Hilde gaped at the implied accusation. "When did I ever ask you to give Treize psychosomatically-induced food poisoning!?"

Silently, angrily, Wufei leaned forward, glaring through narrow slits as the girl leaned back and swallowed. It was times like this, she noticed, times when he got right up in her face for whatever reason, that she could smell something peculiar on him, a smoky perfume of burnt leaves that was both sweet and bitter at the same time. It was clinging to his clothes more than it was actually coming out of his nostrils, and his eyes were a bit glassy, now that she really looked closely. What she couldn't possibly see was the picture of the world that was presented to Wufei, through the filter of a habit he had picked up over the weeks, while his stress level rose and rose. Behind his heavy-lidded eyes, the universe looked quite different. "You think I've forgotten what he did to you...to both of us," he said with reasonable clarity to the figure of a young girl before him. She didn't look much like Hilde to him, in fact it was difficult to say whether he even knew Hilde was there. All he could see was a ghost, whose hand he took lovingly in both of his own as he shook his head sadly. "When I think back on it, I _know_ I could have done more to save you...I'm so sorry I failed, _mei jing shen_..."

His voice was softening strangely, and the incomprehensible foreign bit at the end didn't settle Hilde's nerves any. She blinked, frozen nervously in place. "No big."

Grateful that he hadn't lost either the respect or affection of the ghost, Wufei threw his arms around it and hugged it with a sigh, breathing out sweet nothings and nuzzling the apparition's neck. "_Wo ai ni_..."

By now, Hilde was totally spooked. Wufei was no longer acting rationally, by any stretch of the imagination, and over-disrupting his thought process could be dangerous. She swallowed and smiled, gently pushing him back to look directly into his slightly glazed eyes. "Would you do something else for me if it would _really_ make me happy?"

"Anything," he quickly agreed.

"Find out where Jeffrhyss' headquarters is?" she asked sweetly. Wufei looked down and away disinterestedly, and she huffed in frustration. "Don't make that face at me! If I tell you to do something, I expect it to be done!"

Wufei stared blankly, and stared, and stared...and then did something unexpected. "You're right. I'm sorry." Suddenly, he was the very picture of humility, taking her hand gingerly and cradling it in the crook of his arm as he led her further down the street, walking on the outside like a gentleman escorting his lady fair to high tea. "I might be able to think of someone if we take a walk through the park."

Hilde just walked. She was much too skittish to say anything else while he was this unpredictable. _That's it. He's lost his marbles. And I thought Duo was taking it badly!_ She spent the rest of the stroll wondering whether or not to tell Duo about the odd occurrence, for it would not only reveal that she hadn't been keeping the close eye on Wufei that she promised, but would also heap more problems on their interim leader. Feeling like a trinket on the boy's arm, she followed him here and there as he looked up old contacts, and though few of them were even remotely helpful, she noticed that Wufei introduced her to every one of them as his 'dear friend', using an affectionate tone of voice such as a wayward husband uses to get back into his wife's good graces. It further confirmed that something was seriously amiss, though she couldn't say exactly what.

********** 

Quatre quickly found that he couldn't stay in the kitchen with Duo for any length of time without getting either a headache or an upset stomach, sometimes both. The intense mixture of rage and despair was too much for his delicate senses, and so he frequently sought refuge in his garden, feeling just as helpless as Duo. The overall frustration level in the tiny group was building by the hour, as they seemed to have no recourse against the abduction of their captain.

By that evening, the emotionally-battered gardener had done and re-done everything he could possibly do in the garden, and was still looking for reasons not to go inside. There wasn't a single weed left on the property, there weren't any rocks out of place around the goldfish pond, the lawn was immaculately trimmed, and every flower had already been deadheaded. Just when he fearfully began thinking that he would have to go in and face all the negative feelings being spewed from floor to ceiling, he felt something new, a bubbling, boiling anger, acute in its onset and fiercely intense, coming from the kitchen. It was a tough decision, whether to run and hide or see what was going on, but in the end, Quatre chose to intervene out of concern for his friend. Upon dragging himself inside, he saw the source of the shouting which was easily permeating the walls and windows by then, and he sighed sadly as he took up a position on the sidelines.

Most if not all of the household had gathered in the kitchen since the ruckus started. Merlyn was present, but was trying to pretend that nothing was wrong, calmly chopping vegetables somewhere in the background. The housemaids were all there, save Hilde, and they formed a quiet little peanut gallery behind Otto, who was trying to put Duo back in his place after an act of utter defiance. "Fine, but until then, you work for _me_, and you'll do as you're told!" the bear bellowed in response to Duo's latest empty threat.

Whatever had been going on before Quatre's arrival, it left Duo fit to be tied. "What do you know about anything anyway!?" he shouted back, his voice crackling from recent overuse. "All you do is sit up in your little library and give orders like some jumbo Napoleon, and I don't have to take it anymore!"

Quatre dashed forward, not liking the tone of finality in Duo's statement. "What are you _doing_?" he begged, just as Trowa came in through the back door.

Otto pointed at the gardener with a warning in his furious eyes. "I'll deal with this, Sagheer, just step back!"

Anxious to plead his case with somebody who would listen, Duo turned to Quatre with his hands held out before him. "He wants _lobster_ for dinner when he knows _darn well_ that I refuse to cook them on moral grounds!"

Otto stood back and scrunched up his face with a twitch. "What 'moral grounds'!? It's just _food_!"

The chef scoffed, then walked around in a self-righteous little circle, snarling and glowering at everyone. "Do you _know_ what people do to lobsters!? They plunge them into boiling hot water while they're _still alive_ and cook them to _death_! No living thing on Earth deserves that, and I won't do it!"

Quatre knew this was just leftover Heero-related angst that was spilling over into culinary matters, but he couldn't really say it out loud. He didn't get the chance anyway, for Otto notched up his authoritative anger level, shaking a finger at the disobedient servant. "You're lucky to be working here at all, after the trouble you've caused! If it were up to me, you'd know your place in this house and _stay_ in it!"

"Oh, _well_, if I'm that much of a _burden_ to you, maybe I should make myself scarce!" Duo shot back sarcastically.

"And what's _that_ supposed to mean!?"

"You want me to spell it out so even an orangutan like _you_ can understand!!? _FINE!!_" With that, Duo leapt over to the stove, grabbed a spatula and a pot of seven-minute chocolate frosting that was cooling for a cake, and climbed right on top of the counter, dusty shoes and all. Then, gripping the spatula in a tightly-clenched hand, he began slapping large amounts of frosting on the overhead cupboard doors, like a mad painter flinging emulsion at a canvas. In a furious flash, he spelled out 'I Q-U-I-T' in foot-tall letters with three large exclamation points following soon after. When he was done, he threw the pan and spatula on the floor, littering the immediate area with leftover frosting as he leaned forward to scowl menacingly back at Otto. "_Got that_!?" he hollered a second or two before jumping down off the counter and pushing past everyone to the back door. He slammed his way out of the house without a look back.

Nobody moved at first. Even Merlyn stopped chopping for a moment or two as the surrealism set in. Otto stood clenching and unclenching his fists, inwardly counting to one hundred, desperately clinging to whatever dignity he had left after the exchange. The others seemed entertained yet unconcerned, but Trowa and Quatre looked at each other with great worry. The taller of the two made for the door, but was stopped by a gentle arm. "Let me," Quatre said quietly. Trowa was dubious, but hung his head and let him go, resigned to being the second-best man for the job.

Quatre jogged out back and had a good look around, but Duo had disappeared. The sun was starting its downward drift, and a reddish glow was streaming out from the front of the house, the time of day when it felt very strange not hearing Duo clattering around in the kitchen. Quatre had to put all such uncomfortable thoughts of an uncertain future aside in order to clear his mind and focus, listening for the plaintive brainwaves of a soul in anguish. Drawn directly forward, he slipped into the hedge maze and navigated by instinct, until he found himself standing over Duo in a woody dead end. The chef was sitting in a curled-up ball on the ground with his knees tucked up to his chest and his face hidden. Without a word, Quatre sat down beside him.

The sun sank quite a bit lower before Duo acknowledged his guest, and when he finally lifted his head, Quatre was surprised to see no tears on his face. The grief inside him was enormous, and yet he kept it inside successfully. "That was the last straw, obviously.......Merlyn's probably dunked that poor little lobster by now..."

Quatre swallowed. "Uh.....Duo?"

"What?"

"You just quit."

Duo stared straight ahead with much determination. "I'm aware."

Having confirmed that his friend hadn't just experience a lapse in consciousness, Quatre shrugged a bit. "Okay."

"Wufei hasn't come up with much yet, but he did tell me the exact procedure for executing a berserker," Duo continued in a drained sort of monotone. "First they lock you away, somewhere underground where there's no light, no food, and no one to talk to, and they check on you every few days to make sure you're wasting away properly. Then when it looks like you're about to die from malnutrition, they bring you back upstairs and show you off to all the young agents-in-training, and tell them, 'This is what will happen to you if you ever disobey us.' Then they give a knife to a volunteer and let them put you out of your misery in front of everyone. The volunteer gets all the retained assets of the berserker as a bonus, and then they dump your body in a field somewhere for wild animals to pick at." There was a grave-like silence after that, as Quatre didn't know how to respond, but Duo saved him the trouble. "Starving is a more painful way to die than anything else I can think of. I've seen people starve, on the streets...they get to a point where even if they had a four-course meal in front of them, they couldn't eat it without being sick. It's like your whole gut is twisting itself into knots...I even felt it a bit myself once...when I was really hard up in the middle of winter."

Quatre twiddled his thumbs for awhile, trying to think of something comforting to say. "Well, those people had probably already given up. Heero won't do that. He knows you'll be moving mountains trying to get to him, and he'll hang on for you, I'm sure of it."

Duo drew his lips tightly inward, shaking his head and picking at a loose thread on the knee of his black duty trousers. "If I thought this was only about Heero and Jeffrhyss, I might be able to believe that."

The gardener squinted. "What else could it be?"

Slowly, the chef sighed, no longer concerned about personal secrecy, since it soon wouldn't matter. "You know what he means to me?" he asked quietly.

Even though he didn't ask the whole question, Quatre understood. He and Hilde were perhaps the only ones who knew of Duo's peculiar leanings, and the way Duo and Heero had slowly come together over time. There were occasions, Quatre thought, when he could sense more than he politely should have known, but he lacked the willpower to forcibly prevent those sensual impressions from leaking through his mental wall. He himself once thought he felt that way about someone else, but lately, he wasn't so sure. He nodded vocally. "I know."

"Just out of idle curiosity, if I was in your country, with Heero, doing what we're doing, what would happen to us?"

Quatre's stomach lurched. He had been counting his blessings all along that Duo hadn't asked that question yet, and suddenly, there it was. "You would be given a chance to repent...and if not.....you'd probably both be stoned to death."

To the other boy's surprise, Duo lifted his head with a faint smile and squinted at the first of the evening's stars. "See, I like that. When you do wrong, you know _exactly_ what's going to happen to you in the short-term, so you can walk into it with your eyes wide open, instead of watching your back for the rest of your life wondering when someone's gonna drop a piano on you." Then he looked back down, shaking his head at the grass again. "I just didn't see this coming..."

Curious, Quatre uncoiled himself and twisted to his left to look at Duo more carefully. "I don't understand...you think you're being _punished_ in some way?"

"What else have I done wrong to deserve having my best friend taken away from me!? What else has _he_ done to deserve--"

"Okay, stop right there!" Quatre snapped, shifting around angrily on the lawn until he was kneeling right over the chef, pointing a finger in his face. "You and I haven't always agreed about anything to do with God, but I think it's pretty damn arrogant of you to assume he'd go to all the trouble of orchestrating Heero's past and everything in it up to this point, just to make _you_ feel bad about a little indiscretion! He has an entire _planet_ to run! I think even your priests would agree that no one person's sense of guilt is _that_ important in the grand scheme of things!"

"Then why does it happen!!?" Duo screamed back, vaulting to his feet and flailing his arms about. "Why do the worst possible things happen to the best possible people!? Why did I have to..." He stopped a few paces away, quieting down and passing his shaking hands down over his face briefly.

Quatre rose and stood slightly behind him. "Duo, _none_ of this is your fault."

"He wasn't interested in me at first...we could have gone on for _years_ just being friends, but I kept _pushing_ and _pushing_! It wasn't enough for me!" Duo wrapped his arms around himself, squeezing in anguish, but the tears still wouldn't come. "If I'd just controlled myself more, or prayed harder, or done _something_ other than _throwing_ myself at him, he'd be out here instead of in there where I can't help him!!"

"He chose you instead of his work. He _chose_. You couldn't make up his mind for him any more than Jeffrhyss could." Sensing that he wasn't getting through, Quatre walked in front of Duo and pulled his hand away from his face to stop him gnawing on his thumbnail. "As far as your..._personal_ life goes...I can't look you in the eye and tell you I approve.....but I've done my share of sinning, so I'm no one to judge. What I _do_ know is that Heero _did_ walk into this with his eyes wide open, and he knew what could happen much better than you did. You can't blame yourself for someone else's choices, not when their mind is free."

Looking away in thought, Duo began grinding his teeth slowly, and scowling at the surrounding shrubbery with what could only be categorized as a demonic glare that grew deeper by the second. "...you're right. I'm not to blame...they are. The whole, stinking bunch of them." Then, from the innermost depths of him, came a churning, smoky shadow, darker than the blackest night. It was so hideous and terrifying that Quatre actually took a step back, feeling a noose of pure hatred tightening around his throat. "As soon as Wufei comes up with the goods, we're going after him. I don't care if we have to blow their miserable compound right off the map, I'm going in there and I'm bringing Heero back...and I won't spare anyone who gets in my way."

Quatre took another step back, swallowing and shifting his eyes towards the escape route. The aura of death wafting off of Duo was unspeakably awful, and the gardener felt partly responsible for stirring it up. _Uh-oh...maybe I went too far._ "Um...maybe you ought to sleep on this for awhile...you don't want to do anything rash without thinking about it first...right?"

Duo straightened up, shoulders back and chin forward, with a distinct coldness in his eyes. "I'm gonna go talk to Arthur for awhile...then I'll get my stuff and go to Catherine's." He walked out of the hedge maze, but the dark aura lingered for several seconds after he left, and it made Quatre shiver violently. Now he feared for Duo as much as he feared for Heero--they were both becoming firmly ensnared in the clutches of death, one willingly, and one not. Later that evening, Sally and Lucrezia arrived, delayed by a ticket-takers strike on the railroad and expecting to meet with Duo about their precious cargo, but he was already gone. For Quatre's sake, it was just as well.

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Ninety-Three: Driven by grief and a thirst for revenge, Duo begins remaking himself as a harbinger of death, much to the fear and chagrin of those around him. Wufei finally comes up with some information, but his mind is far from the game._

Oi...okay, that was a hellish couple of weeks. The remaining release dates are going to be tentative, because of my family stuff, so expect Episode 93 on or about December 12th, okey dokers? Thanks for the support! I promise I'm gonna read my emails soon! =P


	93. Coming Down

**Warning:** Violence, substance abuse. 

**Disclaimer:** These characters are used and abused without permission. But they enjoy it. =^_~=

~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Episode Ninety-Three: Coming Down

_"Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts." ~Sir Winston Churchill _

September 14th, 1903

_I wonder what day it is..._

I'll bet it's Friday.....Duo always makes chocolate mousse on Friday...

Maybe I'll play that game again...count the number of water drips until I fall asleep. My record so far is four hundred and twelve...or two hundred and fourteen...not sure now...

Heero wouldn't have admitted out loud that he was losing hope, but his options were few. He was getting to know his environment a little too well now. Once he learned every dip and crag of the stone floor while he still had the strength to explore it, but now he could barely move. Once he had trained his eyes to detect even the faintest spark of light coming from the tiny door at the end of the hall, but the blackness seeped into his very blood, darkening his sight even when the guards came to check on him. Only one thought kept him drinking the odd-smelling ground water that seeped in through cracks in the ceiling and collected in pools on the floor, instead of abstaining and hastening his demise.

_Duo must be going out of his mind...I wish I'd never gotten him involved now.....he would've been better off if he'd never met me._

There's a rock sticking in my back again. How long has that been there?

Maybe Byron's just toying with me...he could still change his mind...maybe he's trying to soften me up so I'll agree to re-enlist under his command. My pledge of loyalty would go a long way if the others found out about Jeffrhyss...he could have a revolt on his hands if he's not careful...

As he laid sprawled out on the stone block floor, staring up at nothing, a drop of water flew down from above and splattered across his left cheek. Heero made not a sound but attempted to reach up with his right hand and brush it away. His whole arm felt like a bag of cement, and after lifting it a scant few inches, he had to let it drop back down again. He let out a tiny, almost imperceptible crackling sigh.

_No. He's not toying with me. This is real. Even if he did let me out, I'd be no good to anyone. I haven't any strength left at all.....only fit for the scrap heap._

...this is really it...

.....I'm going to die here.....

**********  
  


When Duo left Bridlewood, he left no trace of his presence behind except a few flavourful memories and Shadow the cat. He thought it would be better for her all around to stay in Arthur's cottage among familiar surroundings, especially since Catherine had all but banned the feline from her premises, but when Arthur sent a polite request that the chef come and remove the animal, he had to comply. Curious as he wondered what had recently gone wrong, Duo made a foray to the back wall of the property and clambered over it nimbly, with Arthur waiting patiently for him on the other side.

"Alright, what got clawed?" he said blandly after jumping to the ground and folding his arms around a new black waistcoat.

Arthur shook his head, took off his tweed cap, scratched his wispy-haired pate with the same hand, replaced the cap and turned toward Duo with his hands perched on either side of his belly. "There's summat a wee bit spooky aboot that moggie," said he, with a distrustful quiver in his voice.

Duo squinted. "I _wish_ I had time for editorials, but..."

"Three nights in a row," Arthur went on, gesticulating with one hand and then the other, "ah left that cat in the front room an' _locked_ the door, an' _ev'ry night_ she got loose!" There was a pause in which Duo thought about asking what the problem was, but it ran short. "Not only that, but the other day, there were a pack o' dogs off their leads in the park out back. That animal jumped up on the roof, and ev'ry one o' them hounds ran off whimperin' at the sight of 'er! There were a day, no' that far back, mind you, when a cat like that would be branded a witch!"

There was a longer pause. Duo looked to either side, then shrugged with his eyebrows. "Is it a crime to have a weird cat?"

"Just call it doon, laddie. Ah've no' got all day." Arthur waved vaguely at a tree next to the cottage and wandered off. Duo, thinking he only had to retrive Shadow and move on to his next destination, walked over to the tree and immediately heard that something was amiss. Dry, fallen leaves crunched under his feet, a good month ahead of schedule. He blinked, looked up, and there was his feline friend, perched on a limb that was completely devoid of leaves. The other portions of the tree were still lively and green; there was no reason for the leaves to be dropping so soon.

"Shadow!" he called impatiently, holding his arms up. "C'mere, sugarplum...you're bothering Uncle Artie now..."

Shadow looked down at Duo across a space of about six feet, bristled, and leapt up to a higher branch. As soon as she began settling down and licking her paws, a leaf fell to the ground, untouched. It was, just as Arthur described, downright spooky.

The ex-chef was still cautiously trying to coax the cat down when Hilde ran up to him, having spotted the lad from a second-floor window. "Where have you been!? I've been trying to get ahold of you for two days now!" Still in her maid's uniform, she stepped back and had a good look at what _Duo_ was wearing. He appeared to have a new shirt, slacks and waistcoat, all in midnight black, and as a quizzical finishing touch, pure white patent shoes. It wasn't at all normal for any clothier to sell black dress shirts, even for funerals, so Hilde guessed he must have had it dyed. She wasn't sure what she thought of his new look. "What happened to _you_?"

"I'm not after a fashion critique right now, if you don't mind," Duo said, though he preened while he said it. Then he stared upwards, looking for an expeditious yet non-shirt-ripping method of climbing the tree. "C'mon, Shadow, get down here! Busy day!" Shadow was having none of it, and growled softly.

The two youths stood back from the tree, looking up silently. Neither had ever seen Shadow take such a nasty attitude before. "Is...this a bad time?" Hilde asked.

Duo shook it off, opting to leave the cat there if she was really so opposed to moving. "Ain't no good times no more, hon."

"They're, um...working on the map, still," she said, nodding back at the house, "and if you've got time, I need you for something."

"Time!" the boy scoffed, pacing away. "It's not _my_ time that's at a premium."

Hilde's eyes stung at the needless reminder that Heero was growing weaker and thinner by the day. "I need you to help me bring back Wufei. I know where he's been hiding...but I don't wanna go in and get him on my own." She twisted her apron in both hands, glancing down nervously. Clearly, wherever Wufei was, it was a place she didn't want to be.

Duo looked up at Shadow one more time, and gave up. He then beckoned Hilde over to the wall, gave her a step up and over, and they were both scarce within minutes. As long as there was the faintest hope that Wufei had found out where Heero was, he was top priority. "Don't worry, I'm way ahead of you on the Wufei topic. I just want to make one quick stop first," Duo added as they took flight. "Some reinforcements are in order."

**********  
  


In the cold storage room, off the hallway to the kitchen, recently vacated by a certain staff member, there was a curious little workstation set up at a heavy wooden table. Three chairs, each on a different side of the table, the centre one with its back to the door, were occupied by Quatre, Lucrezia, and Trowa, respectively. Wanting very badly to make up for her lack of recent support, Lucrezia had conned Otto into thinking Milliardo had sent her to check up on him in order to gain free room and board, as well as close proximity to Duo and the others. Duo was grateful for her offer, and put her to work straight away.

She wired Mrs. Trimble and asked that all of Lord Jeffrhyss' unclaimed mail be forwarded to the manor, and so the pile of questioning letters grew and grew. The three of them sat around that table at least once a day with the misguided mail, three fine nib pens, a pot of red ink, and a large folding map of the world, plus a smaller map that encompassed only Britain and Europe. Piece by piece, they read the return addresses on each item of correspondence and marked the point of origin with a tiny red dot on either or both maps, depending on how close together the dots were the closer the senders got to England. Very few of the letters came from residential addresses, rather from postal depots and telegraph offices for the purposes of anonymity, but it was good enough for a general idea of where the bulk of Jeffrhyss' associates were hiding out. Duo reasoned that this was the first step to finding the primary compound in case Wufei failed.

They worked quietly for about ten minutes before Quatre slumped back in his chair and rubbed his eyes with a miniscule sigh. Lucrezia put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder after putting a dot somewhere in Panama. "Take a break if you're tired."

"It's not that," he replied. "Merlyn made that beautiful continental breakfast this morning, but I couldn't touch a bite of it."

"I only choked down half a piece of toast myself," Trowa added, taking a magnifying glass to a telegram with frayed edges.

"Well, try not to think about it," Lucrezia ordered, timidly asserting herself as the adult of the group. It hit her pretty hard when Sally told her what happened to Heero the day of the big train heist, and coming back to the group and discovering the rest of the plot didn't help. "And for heaven's sake, don't skip lunch too. You won't help Heero by trying to race him to the finish line."

"I know..." Quatre pulled himself back up to the table and resumed his work without any further complaints.

Another five minutes went by, and the distant sound of the front doorbell, still proudly belting out the first few notes of 'Rule Britannia', drifted down to the not-terribly-cold cold room. "That might be the postman," Lucrezia thought out loud, leaving her workstation swiftly. Her dark teal skirt swirled around her as she slipped through the barely opened door, and then she was gone.

Once he was certain they were alone, Trowa drained what was left in his water glass, one of two sitting on the far end of the table, and sighed slightly. "Is it too much to hope for that Duo isn't going to do something ludicrously stupid when he finds this place?"

"Probably," Quatre conceded. They had both been shaken by how badly the boy had taken recent events, but it made Quatre put down his pen and think suddenly. He squinted a bit at his friend. "If I'd been captured the same way, and if the same thing was going to happen to me...would you go nuts like that too?"

Trowa shifted uncomfortably. "Aw, c'mon..."

"No, really! I'd like to know.....would you quit your job and start an international guerrilla war to save me?"

When their eyes finally met, Trowa couldn't hold the gaze for more than a couple of seconds before he looked away with a smirk of embarassment, turning red about the ears. "...well, yeah, but we're..."

Quatre leaned forward. "But we're what?"

"We're not just plain friends like those two," Trowa stammered, hiding behind his bangs and fiddling with his pen. "We're.....y'know......._different_."

Quatre folled his eyes at the map below and muttered, "Not _that_ much different."

"...huh?"

The conversation abruptly ended as Lucrezia returned with another small stack of correspondence for Jeffrhyss. "Just a few this moring," she commented, flipping through them.

Trowa immediately grabbed his empty glass and presented it on an outstretched arm to the woman. "Um...I hate to ask, but would you mind getting me a refill?"

Not at all snobbish about doing favours for friends, Lucrezia took the glass and set down the letters. "Sure," she said blandly, turning to leave again. The boys shared a knowing glance as she vanished; some subjects were still inappropriate for a lady's ears.

"What do you mean, 'not that different'?" Trowa hissed in a gossipy strain, leaning right over the maps.

Wide-eyed, Quatre swallowed and glanced nervously from side to side. "Well...I mean...it's not that I...that is to say, it's not my place to....." He sputtered, and babbled, and worked up a real sweat over whatever it was. Finally, the combination of half-words and embarassed little squeaks and hand gestures painted an odd picture that could be seen and interpreted only by those who knew what normal people did not, and Trowa's jaw dropped.

"No...way."

Quatre gave a squicky shrug. "That's kinda why Duo's been acting the way he has...he lost more than a friend."

The very idea of Duo and Heero being secret lovers punched Trowa right in the gut, and he made a sour face. "Ew..."

"What do you mean, 'ew'? That's the pot calling the kettle black if ever I heard it!"

Trowa shook his head and shrugged innocently. "I just...I can't picture Heero that way. Duo, _maybe_, what with the hair an' all...but _Heero_? ...no, that's too weird. You must've got it wrong."

_He...he really doesn't believe me. He's never not believed me before._ Quatre was about to snap back with a witty retort, but sensed someone approaching and clammed up. In the seconds that followed, he grabbed his own half-full water glass and drank down the remainder in three big gulps, just as Lucrezia opened the door.

"Here you go," she said simply, handing Trowa his quencher.

"Um, Lucy?" Quatre wiped his mouth on his sleeve and held out his glass. "Could I please have some more water too?"

Lucrezia looked shiftily between them with mild dissatisfaction at being nominated den mother in absentia. Slowly, she took the second glass. "...alright..." She vacated the room a second time, squinting over her shoulder at the blond boy.

As soon as she was gone, Quatre scowled. "I don't see why you're so skeptical all of a sudden. They both had utterly miserable childhoods which could warp _anyone's_ personality, so it wouldn't be very nice of you to pass quick judgements."

"So you think they're..._odd_...because they were _deprived_?" Trowa scratched a spot on his neck. "So what's your excuse?"

Quatre gasped in an offended sort of way. "No need to take _that_ attitude!" he grumped, leaning back and folding his arms.

"Well, this is just silly. _Even if_ you're right, and I'm not convinced that you are, you can't compare them and us."

"I _know_, because _they've_ been at it like _rabbits_ all summer!"

The notion hung in the air, heavily laden with both envy and disgust, and while Trowa's eyes were busy expanding from innuendo overload, Lucrezia returned with a second glass of water and set it down. "That new chef says I should bring a whole pitcher next time," she said, and she began angling herself down into her chair, but didn't quite make it. Trowa grabbed something off the table and dragged it down out of sight with both hands, making hesitant noises.

"Lucy, could you..." He tensed up and strained under the table, and there was a loud snap. Then he exhaled softly and brought forth two pieces of a pen, a black shaft and a little metal arrowhead. "The nib on my pen broke. Could you bring me another one, please?"

Lucrezia was frozen at a forty-five degree angle to her chair, half up and half down. "_What_?" she spat.

Trowa held up both pieces so they could be clearly examined. "See? Broke."

She sat down and huffed. "We've still got two perfectly good pens, we can share."

While she looked down at the new stack of letters, Trowa gave Quatre a hot, piercing look indicating that he very much wanted to continue their conversation. Taking the hint, Quatre squirrelled his own fountain pen away under the table and tried to break it in a similar fashion, but he didn't seem to have the finger strength. With a tiny gasp, he took it out again and showed it to Lucrezia. "Mine's...bent." Indeed, the nib was slightly askew.

Lucrezia thought it was the worst display of subtlety she had ever seen in all her born days. She propped her elbows up on the table and massaged her temples. "If _you_ want new pens so bad, _you_ go and get them."

Both boys thought it was the best offer they were likely to get. In unison, they rose from the table, took their pieces of pens and left, briskly searching for an argument-worthy spot elsewhere in the cellar. Finding the kitchen and pantry occupied, they ended up in the scullery, where Trowa threw his hands up and launched the first attack. "Let's say, just for a minute, that I think you're right about them, which I doubt." He ignored Quatre's fervent eye-rolling. "If it's true, are you actually _jealous_ of them? I mean...is that what you _want_?"

The gardener sighed and propped himself up on a wring washer. _He's right, in a way...I only know what Duo tells me...plus the occasional vague impression seeping off him. I haven't gotten Heero's side of the story at all, and if it turns out that Duo's been a pathological liar all along, then of course I wouldn't know any different. Then again, if he's telling the truth, it's almost as if they're deliberately hiding from me, otherwise I'd know for sure...but even so...how lucky they are!_ "...I don't know exactly what I want. Maybe I'm only jealous of the idea that they might have each other to hold onto through anything."

Trowa checked in all directions, on guard against eavesdroppers, then stuck his hands in his pockets and stepped closer. "_We've_ got each other..."

Quatre folded his hands on top of the washer and rested his chin on the lot. "I _thought_ we did," he said, with an edge creeping into his voice. "So how come we don't talk anymore?"

At first, Trowa nearly said something inexcusably male-minded like 'What's to talk about?' but thought better of it and stepped away, looking down. They had plenty to talk about, plenty to sort out, but days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and somehow the subject of how their relationship had changed kept getting swept under the carpet. For his own part, Byron had a lot to answer for.

"It all happened too fast," Quatre concluded.

".....that doesn't mean it can't be fixed..."

It was a mystery to them both, how the same concept of togetherness could work so well for some people and so badly for others, but a simple fact remained--it wasn't having a positive effect. Their usual in-depth conversations had diminished severely over the months, though it was still better than the first few days after the 'pleasure den incident' when they had monstrous difficulty looking each other in the eye. On the grand relationship scale of life, they were pretty close to lukewarm.

"Listen," Trowa continued after a long silence, "...we're still practically kids, right? I mean, you see it in the newspapers all the time, people are living longer now than they did even fifty years ago, getting more time to figure things out, so...so if we don't get everything right on the first try, what's the harm?"

Quatre pondered, then looked up at him with wonder, seeing him as a young man of unseen, and rather disturbing, depths. "You've been reading the obituaries again, haven't you?"

Trowa shifted all over. "No," he lied innocently.

Shortly after, they slowly smiled at each other, and then began snickering uncontrollably. Even when Quatre was feeling at his worst, Trowa could use his peculiar philosophic outlook on life to put his problems in perspective. It was perhaps his most unusual and underappreciated talent, and if it worked that well on his friend, then perhaps they had something to hold onto after all. Once they calmed down a bit, they seemed to share a common, if not slightly telepathic, thought, that if something between them wasn't working, they had plenty of time to fix it. This, frankly, flew in the face of everything they had learned about the fragility of life lately, but it didn't seem to matter. "Heero first," said Quatre. _And maybe then...we'll see._

Trowa nodded once in satisfaction. "Heero first."

**********  
  


Hilde had a terrible time keeping up with Duo as he shot through the streets like a black and brown blur. He had become possessed by a strange and powerful new energy that made him move faster and talk smarter and laugh louder than he had the entire year previous. She chased him on and off trains in her high-heeled boots at a pace that would have made Olympic sprinters balk, and still he pressed forward tirelessly, a man on a mission. "So where _did_ you get those clothes?" she finally found breath to ask him as he paused to read a wall map in the underground.

"What, these old rags?" he purred, dragging both hands luxuriantly down his chest all the way to his thighs. "Custom-made. Nothing but the best. If I'm gonna be the catalyst of death and destruction that flattens Lord Jeffrhyss and everyone who follows him, I've at least gotta look the part, don't I?" He smiled with great confidence in his darkly pleasant magnetism. The outfit started with a black dress shirt buttoned all the way to the top with no tie, and the sleeves were just a tiny bit puffed out, enough to hide the silhouette of his arms but not enough to make him look ridiculous. Overtop of it was a slightly elongated and very form-fitting waistcoat, black with black buttons, that gave him a trim and rather shapely figure. The tailored black slacks underneath the set tapered finely down to the highly-polished white Oxfords, giving the whole ensemble a sense of richness and refinement that suggested he must have blown what was left of his wages from the manor on it in one go.

Hilde's sensibility jived with everything but the death and destruction part. "Right."

Duo reached into his back pocket and whipped out a folded pamphlet while soaking up her gaze, unfurled it, and compared the information in the typed message to the map of London on the wall. The housemaid looked over his shoulder a little at the paper, but the only word she could read on it was 'women'. "We're going to go pick up our reinforcements now," the ex-chef said in a kind of train conductor voice, "so all further inquiries about my _fabulous_ wardrobe will have to wait 'till later."

They were off again, up the steps to ground level and down the streets of a rather poor district that Duo hadn't visited for a long time. He led Hilde to an address printed on the old pamphlet, a memento of a very auspicious meeting, where he had it on good authority that a trusted friend was making an important announcement at an emergency meeting. They ended up at the Opal Room of the Barnsbury Hotel in Pentonville, where they pushed through a swinging door of frosted glass and brass trim into a forum of about a hundred and fifty ladies seated around many round tables with white table cloths and silver tea things. At the front of the room, framed by two large flower bouquets on pedestals, was an oak podium from which the keynote speaker was delivering an address. One or two heads in the crowd turned to gawk at the newcomers, but for the most part, they were riveted to the speech being given up at the front.

"...understand that I leave with no regrets, and that when my work abroad is completed, I'll be coming straight back to fulfill whatever tasks you may find for me." The woman at the podium, all done up in a fern green dress, puffy up-swept hairdo, and wide-brimmed feathered hat was Sally. She was making a brief farewell speech at the emergency meeting of her Womens' Suffrage Society, who had looked to her for guidance over the last several years in their fight for equal rights. The doctor looked a very grand lady indeed, contrasting elegantly against the warm-toned wood of the floors and furnishings, lit by traditional gas lamps. "During my leave of absence, I assure you _all_ that you'll be in excellent hands. As you know, Miss Mary Carscadden is back from her tour of Canada, and has graciously consented to take over the reins. Let's give her a big Pentonville welcome!"

Sally started the applause and stepped aside as a pretty, thirtyish brunette in a cream-coloured dress and hat rose from a table near the front and replaced her at the lectern. She smiled broadly and tapped a set of notecards on it while the crowd settled back down. "Thank yeh, Doctor Poole, an' thank yeh all for the verra kind welcome," she began in a thick Scottish accent. While she made her speech, Sally slipped out through a side door, and taking the cue, Duo pulled Hilde back out the main door and into the hallway where they all regrouped after a few moments.

"Glad that's over with," said Sally as she walked briskly towards them.

Unaware that it had all been arranged, Hilde gaped at her. "What did you just quit for!? Don't tell me you've changed your mind about getting us the vote!"

Sally smiled wistfully at her boots, adjusted the black Gladstone bag under her arm, and put a hand on Hilde's shoulder. "Assuming we can get to Heero in time and take him to a safe location, he's going to be battling severe malnutrition, decreased motor control, hypersensitivity to noise and light, ringing in the ears, spots before the eyes, tingling in his hands and feet, and the possibility of major organ failure. He's going to need a professional who knows his medical history and can watch over him full-time until we know what's what, so I'm going to quit my practice for the next little while."

Touched by the gesture, Hilde took hold of the woman's hand and squeezed it. "But...who'll take care of your _other_ patients?"

"Doctor Walsh in Redding owes me a favour for covering her maternity leave. It's all taken care of."

"We'd better get going," Duo cut in. Then he nodded at Sally's little black bag. "Have you got it?"

Sally bristled from the neck up, somewhat disapproving of whatever Duo was referring to. Hilde just stood there and looked confused. "Against my better judgement," the doctor confirmed.

Duo nodded, stepped aside, and pointed the way for the ladies with an outstretched arm. "After you," he offered. The trio left the hotel and continued on to their next destination, but Hilde remained befuddled at the way the other two seemed to know something she didn't.

**********  
  


Sutherby Hotel was quiet at last. The contractors, surveyors, landscapers, and other skilled tradesmen had all packed up and left, leaving behind a highly-polished jewel a small automobile jaunt from the English Channel. Sixty-two rooms, twenty of them with an ensuite bath, two large group dining rooms with the finest linen and silver, plus a tennis court, bowls pitch, duck pond, greenhouse, and a long list of other highly enviable features, all bankrolled by Peaceraft gold bullion. The advertising campaign was set to launch on the first of the month, in time to accept bookings from members of the new upper middle class who would have liked to spend their winters in the south but had no old country estates to go to.

At the other end of the legal activities scale, the highest-ranking members of the Cinq association were sequestered somewhere, voting off the first batch of applicants and deciding how much more they would require of the finalists. There was little to be done until notice was given as to whether the Peacecraft delegation would be advancing to the last round or not, so Relena and Milliardo were lounging in their private second-floor study overlooking the duck pond, trying to relax. They sat at opposite ends of a long Queen Anne sofa, he with the political portion of the newspaper and a suit of dull grey, and she with the remainder, her feet tucked up beside her underneath the ruffles of a white lace dress. The mood was sombre.

Relena acted bored as she flipped through the classified ads and the agony column, but there was quite a bit on her mind. "Marcus was back visiting again yesterday," she mentioned, trying to whip together a conversation.

Mired in an article about the state of South Africa, Milliardo barely heard her. "Mm."

"I would have brought him in to see you, but you seemed so busy..." The girl picked at one thumbnail with the other, noticing a little white spot that couldn't be scratched off. "He desperately wants a job here...I thought, with his personality, he'd make a nice concierge..."

"Whatever you think best," the other murmured.

Relena smiled faintly at the opposite wall. "To be honest, I don't think it's the money _or_ the position he's after."

Finally looking up, the soldier's gaze softened just a bit. "I don't mind...I've spoken with him, and he seems a very suitable young man. We must have his family over for tea."

"Yes...he's quite suitable..." Relena's voice lightened with sadness, and she secretly brought a hand up to rest just below her throat, where something small was concealed under the pristine fabric, dangling from a delicate chain. It was her golden swan pendant, given to her by Heero. The day after she had seen him snatched by the side of the railroad tracks and carted away, she placed it back around her neck and had not taken it off since. _If only I knew where he was...and if he's alright..._ Before the gnawing fear could return to the pit of her stomach, she changed the subject. "Do you think father would have approved of Marcus?"

"I'm certain of it."

Relena nodded thoughtfully, looking out the window. "You brought Lucrezia home to meet him once, I remember," she ventured daringly. "What did he think of her?"

Milliardo's grip tightened slightly around the newsprint sheaves, and he frowned. "I don't think that's an appropriate topic for discussion, do you?" he growled in a warning tone.

"I can't believe you're _still_ dragging out this stupid grudge! She was only doing what she thought was right, you can't fault her for that forever!" _And as for your suspicions,_ Relena continued silently, _you know she'd never look at another man...and for that matter...Heero would never look at her. I've accepted that now..._

"She made it perfectly clear where her loyalties lie," the young man grumped. "Now we go it alone."

Relena watched him as he shook the folds out of the newspaper and returned furiously to his reading. He could act as self-righteous and impervious to emotional hurt as he liked, but she could tell how unhappy he was. Perhaps he had come to realize that it was his own pride that drove Lucrezia away in the first place, but that same pride was keeping him from making things right. She tapped a hand to the golden swan under her dress once more and brushed back a lock of hair. "You can stay angry at someone for as long as you like...but you never know how long you have to make up with them. Someday you might want that person back...only to find that time's run out."

Milliardo had heard enough. He very calmly folded up the newspaper, set it on the coffee table, and stood. "I should have a word with our new manager, see if he's found anyone to fill those last few positions yet." And he left.

Relena sighed. _So stubborn...always has been, but this time he's going to do serious damage. If he loses her for good..._ Again she thought of her swan pendant, and how she swore all her servants to secrecy, on pain of sacking, that they should never reveal to her brother even the slightest hint that she had been briefly engaged to Heero. _I don't know why love makes us do such stupid things, but I do know that it never completely goes away. At least Milliardo has a chance of seeing Lucrezia again, if he'll just admit he could have been wrong.....but Heero..._

As she sat and began worrying again, a fairly recent memory leapt forward, from her family's trip to Morocco to meet with the Cinq officials. The old man in charge of the most powerful faction had a run-in with Heero, right in front of her, and suddenly she remembered it with startling clarity.

_"Stop talking like I belong to you!" Heero snapped with a fury she had never seen before. "I don't belong to anyone anymore!"_

Relena was still reeling from the hurtful discovery that she had been very soundly duped, but somehow she managed to stay in the moment and pay close attention. The old man with the peg legs was acting smug. "You're confused," he said. "I understand that. Overexposure to common society is creating a conflict with your default programming, but my senior advisors tell me the damage is not irreparable. You can come back."

"Are you deaf!?" Heero shouted back. "I said I'm not going anywhere with you! All I want is to be left alone!"

"Then it was a grave tactical error on your part to come here at all, was it not?" the old man snarled, visibly offended by his puppet's behaviour. "...my advisors are all of the opinion that persuasion is pointless when there is an opportunity to take by force."

Relena sat straight up on the sofa, glanced out the window at the duck pond to ground herself in her current reality, and parroted Lord Jeffrhyss' words in her mind. _...'take by force'! ...it was him!_ Suddenly it all made perfect sense, and she marvelled that she hadn't added it up sooner. Heero's abduction couldn't have been carried out by common thugs, it was the work of professionals. She saw the way he fought, and it just wasn't possible any other way. Jeffrhyss had already threatened to steal him back, and in aggravated retribution for being shot at, the details of which were still blurry to Relena, he had done it. She leaned back and exhaled.

_I wonder if I could get myself an audience with this man, or at least with one of his subordinates...without Milliardo knowing, of course. There must be something I have that His Lordship wants...something I can bargain with..._ For the rest of the day, she made it her mission to come up with a plan. She couldn't control whether or not Milliardo went chasing after his lost love, but if there was even the faintest hope of seeing hers again, she was going to grab it.

**********  
  


Hilde told Sally her story in her own words as the trio made a short train journey far into the east end, specifically, into the neighbourhood surrounding Whitechapel Road, a dreary and desolate area known and avoided for its history of savage crime. Hilde made it quite clear that semi-respectable girls such as herself would never venture there, particularly at night, except that she had followed Wufei to an underground apartment the evening before and found out where he'd been hiding.

"First I thought he was just drunk or something," the housemaid explained, "until I tried to find him at Catherine's and she said she _had_ to start renting his room out because he'd been gone so long and hadn't paid her in weeks! She's storing all his things in the cellar, and if he doesn't cough up what he owes, she might pawn some of it off..."

"And what was he like the other day?" Sally asked while they paused on a street corner to wait for a gap in the traffic. While the women talked, Duo was keenly watching everyone who was watching them, for they were three reasonably well-dressed young people in the middle of the slums, prime targets for robbers, even in daylight.

Hilde crinkled her brow as she composed her best and quickest description of what happened. "He was..._manic_. He _looked_ half asleep, but at the same time he was flitting around like a hummingbird full of brandy." She wrinkled her nose. "And he smelled like...burnt grass."

Duo and Sally shared a sidelong glance, after which the boy bent down to her ear. "How is it you spent your formative years in and out of orphanages, sleeping in back alleys, selling flowers to businessmen who were probably deliberately out looking for a bit on the side, and _still_ managed to lead a sheltered life?" he asked.

The girl made a point of sticking her nose in the air and looking offended. "I always thought in the back of my mind that I was going to be a _lady_ someday, and I had some very good older friends who didn't quite make it, so when they told me to stay out of certain neighbourhoods and not to talk to certain people, I _listened_."

"That was probably a good thing," Sally chuckled, patting her on the shoulder.

After some twists and turns down back alleys filled with all manner of grime and trash, not to mention the dregs of humanity who laid passed out from excessive drink and trying to escape reality, Hilde pointed her companions to a set of concrete steps bordered by a rusted iron rail that led below street level, ending in a peculiar door. It was of a heavy wood, with some strange designs carved into it. They were pictograms, about two inches across and arranged in a vertical line along the edge of the door that swung inward. Sally ran her hand along the carvings, squinting as she read, "Good Fortune Tavern."

Duo sneered. If they could afford the time and effort to carve their name into the door instead of just hanging up a sign, it meant the law couldn't touch them, so they feared no relocation. "Someone's luck just ran out," he muttered, and then he pushed through the door with the ladies close behind.

Inside, it looked almost convincingly like a bar, but the clientele gave it away as something more. The majority of the men inside appeared to be Chinese, or at least of Asian descent, and about eight of them sat huddled around scattered tables nursing one liquor or another. The furnishings were of poor, splintered wood, as old as some of the gray-haired customers and well-abused in their lifetime. Each table had a squatty, round, red candle for a centrepiece, sitting on a square of red cloth with a tiny yellow tassel at each corner. On the walls hung colourful tapestries depicting clouded mountainscapes and writhing green dragons chasing flaming pearls across the sky, erasing any doubt that the Chinese element of London had a firm foothold here. There was a small bar from which drinks were dispensed, but the smoky residue that pervaded the atmosphere indicated that drinks were not the main attraction. Against the far wall, Duo spotted a doorway covered by hanging strands of beads and strode boldly toward it, pushing politely past the diminuitive Chinese lady who stepped up to him, thinking he was a customer.

The trio swatted away the bead curtain and found themselves in a long hallway with many doors on either side, and another tapestry decorating the wall at the very end. Without meeting much resistance, Duo began flinging open door after door, each time letting a fresh billow of that burnt-grass smell into the hallway, and not retreating until he had looked at everyone inside. In each room there were two to four men of varied descent, and even the occasional woman, sitting on a floor covering of cushions, draping their gaunt faces over a small, circular table with short little legs. On any given table was an earthenware gaslamp and a pot of black paste, of which the patrons took sample after sample to fill the tiny stone bowls of their long-handled bamboo pipes. Duo was disappointed time after time until he came to the last door on the right-hand side, and beneath his wild eyes grew a devious grin as he finally spotted his quarry.

A braided blur shot into the room, grabbed one of two occupants, a thirtyish Chinaman in dark brown robes, and shovelled him to the door with both hands, slamming the wooden slab as soon as the two ladies were inside. They stood around the table in a semi-circle, looking down at the remaining customer with mixed feelings. The seated figure was only barely recognizable as Wufei.

Duo leapt down and crouched next to the lad, peering at his face with curious determination. Wufei seemed not to notice any of them, his pipe dangling limply from one hand and his eyes staring vacantly down at the table. His face was unnaturally pale, and his hair hung straight down in greasy strings, unfurled from the ponytail he normally wore. No other person in the building was as tanked up as he was, indicating that he must have gotten a very early start. They all crowded around, snapping their fingers in his face, calling his name, and prodding him lightly, but he wouldn't respond. Sally checked his vitals, but he was breathing just fine. He just wasn't aware of them.

Impatient for a sign of life, Duo grabbed Wufei by a handful of his hair and shook his head a bit. "Wakey wakey!" he crooned right in the boy's ear.

"Don't _hurt_ him," kvetched Hilde from afar.

"Aw, I'm not gonna hurt him, poor baby," Duo whined back self-righteously. He peered at Wufei's rapidly changing eyes, blinking and rolling, focusing and unfocusing, and then beckoned Sally over. "I don't have to hurt him to get answers out of him."

Hilde squinted, terribly confused, and noticed the way Sally frowned as she brought her little black Gladstone bag over to Wufei's other side. "I hope you realize I'm not taking any legal responsibility for cracking this stuff open again," the doctor said as she opened the bag and took out a small burlap sack, closed with a drawstring, and about the size of a bunch of grapes.

Duo gave her curt nod. "Noted. Do it."

"Somebody better tell me what's going on before I lose it," said Hilde, curling her knees up to her chest where she sat on the floor.

"Your friend here is an opium addict," Sally explained as she examined the burlap sack for holes or other recent imperfections. "It builds up in the patient's system the longer they're hooked. Judging by the way he looks, he's been at it for weeks."

Hilde eyed the little sack and got a strange feeling from it. Somehow it looked familar. "And what's that?"

Duo looked somewhere off to the side, remembering the last time they had to drag out the bag of powders. It was in a little cottage on the property of Suthery House, when Heero lost control due to withdrawl symptoms over that very mixture of powders and leaves, the instrument of Jeffrhyss' control. Ironically, the only way they could break Heero's addiction to the substance was to reintroduce it to him, during the process of which they learned a lot about Jeffrhyss' original plan for him. Duo hoped it would work just as well on Wufei. "A souvenir from Heero's past," said he.

"There's no guarantee this will work at all," Sally remarked, looking up. "It could have been formulated for Heero and no one else."

"I'm not looking for total mind control, just a little truth serum will do."

With a resigned flick of her eyebrows, Sally finished unwrapping the string that held the little sack together, and fanned out the open edges. Then from the assorted paraphernalia on the low table before them, she built an open-faced burner out of a metal trivet, the still-burning gas lamp, and a ceramic dish with gold around the rim and colourful inlays. Tipping the little sack over the dish, she sprinkled a few teaspoons of the mysterious mixture labelled with a zero, a blend of multicoloured powders, leaves, and crystals, then set the sack aside and turned up the heat. Within moments of being exposed to the flame, the pile of dried sludge began to burn, giving off a twisting, dancing plume of grayish smoke that climbed in a thin, delicate stream to a height of about eighteen inches, and then swirled away into nothing. Sally motioned for Hilde to sit back from the table, even as she did the same.

With a swift, jerky movement that made the girls jump slightly, Duo grabbed Wufei's near arm, twisted it behind his back, put his other hand on the back of his head, and pushed his face down toward the pile of smouldering material, forcing him to inhale as much of the noxious vapour as possible. Wufei's free hand dropped the bamboo pipe and flailed around a bit, but due to an overwhelming lack of awareness, he didn't even know whether to fight back or not. He coughed and gasped mightily as the smoke crawled down his nose and throat against his will, and as the new batch of chemicals wafted up to his brain, he calmed down again, sitting back as docile as a lamb.

Duo smiled slightly in satisfaction. "That oughta be enough...now let's see if this stuff is really as good as advertised." He stood up, dusted himself off lightly, and squared his shoulders as he prepared to bark out orders like a drill sergeant. "Alright! Stand up, stretch your arms out to either side, close your eyes, lean your head back, and alternate touching the tip of your nose with the first finger on either hand!"

Shaky and slow, Wufei got up from his cushion, stretched his arms out laterally, closed his eyes, leaned his head back, and made a sloppy but effective show of touching his fingertips to the tip of his nose. Sally folded her arms and snorted. "I thought you weren't looking for total mind control."

Duo threw her a toothy smirk. "I just wanted to see if he'd do it," he chuckled.

"Oh, _really_," the doctor scoffed, getting up off her cushion and traversing the room in two big strides. She clamped Wufei's arms to his sides and shoved him back down into the pile of assorted pillows beneath him. "You wanted your truth serum, so _use_ it. The mixture is _boosting_ the level of opiates in his bloodstream, so the sooner we get him off all these chemicals completely, the sooner I can rehab him back into a member of the team."

Reminded that time was short, Duo knelt back down on the floor, towering over the slumping Wufei by several inches. He looked down on him with contempt that couldn't be disguised. The ladies retreated a short distance back, and then the interrogation began. "I hope you got a good long whiff of that stuff...because I'm not letting up until I get some answers," Duo growled with a hint of a smile, leaning up to the suspect's ear. "I've gotta say, I haven't been impressed with your performance lately. You're shiftless...you're lazy...you don't show up for meetings, and you haven't fulfilled _one_ of your promises since we started trusting you more. Why d'you figure that is?"

Wufei was breathing rather heavily, perhaps a subconsious attempt to get the mind-bending smoke out of his system, but for the moment, it gripped him tightly. The double hit of narcotics coursing through his blood made him incapable of defending himself as he sat in his blurry-eyed stupor.

"Let me put it a more direct way," Duo said, settling himself down and draping an arm around his subject. "You told us about twelve times that you had some contacts who could tell you where Heero is. Surprise, surprise, _none_ of them wanna know you! So...do you have _any_ valid contacts left at _all_?"

Gradually, Wufei shook his head. "...no," came the tiny reply, the first word he had uttered since their arrival.

"Thaaat's right, no allies, no friends, so you alienate the few allies and friends you have left by _lying_ to them, very interesting..." Duo rubbed his chin and thought for a bit. "But why all the lies, Wu? I'm sure you'll agree we would've had a much easier time of it if you'd just coughed up what facts you had and told us you couldn't _get_ anymore...unless you were _afraid_ to tell us the truth...unless the truth was a lot _worse_ than we ever could have _possibly_ imagined..." All eyes were on Wufei as he swayed and stared in the vague direction of the table. After a few more thoughtful blinks, Duo tightened his grip on the spot where Wufei's shoulder met his neck, purposely trying to inflict pain. "You _know_ where Heero is...don't you?"

Wufei's head lolled to the side. "...yes....."

The girls' worried gazes turned to angry glares.

"You've _been_ to the primary compound, haven't you?"

This time, he only nodded.

"Explain it to me. Start to finish."

While Sally and Hilde crawled closer, Wufei blinked and quivered, compelled to obey the order but having a hard time forming complete sentences in his drug-saturated brain. His voice was the consistency of stale bread being dragged over coarse gravel, with little bits breaking off all the time. "They took me there...right after my transfer. Everyone goes through central processing...so they can..."

"So they can brainwash you," Duo scoffed.

"Let him finish!" Hilde snapped.

"...I saw some of the layout," Wufei continued, trance-like. "...saw some of the interior maps.....I memorized them while I was waiting to be seen by--"

"Do you know where it is!?" Duo shouted, grabbing him by both shoulders and turning him with a violent shake. "Do you know how to get in without being seen!?" The others were shocked, but dared not interfere.

"I...don't know..."

Duo's snarl intensified, and his grip tightened until he finally threw Wufei to one side and slouched in the opposite direction, hiding his face behind a clenched fist. Sally got up, walked over, and knelt behind him, using what little motherly instinct she had to comfort him. "You got what you wanted. He can't back out now, not after we all heard the truth.....let's just get him out of here, and get back to work."

The ex-chef took his time deciding. Part of him wanted to flatten the traitor right then and there, because if he'd fessed up sooner, they might have saved Heero days of torment, but as much as he hated to admit it to himself, they needed Wufei. There were many secrets locked in his mind behind a wall of drugs and hallucinations, secrets they absolutely _had_ to have. Duo slowly turned, his face on fire with rage. "Time to go," he growled. It took all three of them to drag Wufei to his feet, usher him out of the building and get him into a cab, and all along the way Sally was shoving herbs from her black bag down his throat, starting the cleansing process as soon as possible. They only had a short time to disinfect his brain enough that he would be useful, and he had been fighting against them for weeks in advance.

**********  
  


Later in the afternoon, once the second post had arrived, Lucrezia sat alone in the cold storage room, inputting the last few entries into the 'Jeffrhyss database', as it had been casually dubbed. Some of the return addresses were scrawly, or blotchy, or made difficult to read for some other reason, but she pressed on. She owed Heero at least that much. At one point, she slouched back with her hands on either side of her weary face and looked at all the red dots on the map, marvelling at how far His Lordship's tentacles had reached in only a few decades. _A few years ago, I was just a brat trying to escape an arranged marriage...how did I ever find my way into this mess??_

She contemplated it quietly, then pulled her chair back up to the table with a huff, just to finish off the last letter and have her tea. She picked up the little beige envelope, somewhat different that the others, and studied it. There was no return address. Lucrezia sighed, knowing she would have to open this one, a task she usually left to the boys, so she tore into it with an angry thumb and pulled out a single sheet of top-quality linen stationery. It was the first piece of Jeffrhyss' mail that had arrived in such an ostentatious fashion, folded and sealed at the edges with a little gold seal that was embossed with some sort of palm tree pattern.

Drawing her eyebrows down with a smirk at the odd emblem, she brought the paper momentarily up to her nose and sniffed. She could swear it smelled vaguely of the ocean and sun-kissed sands, but dismissed it as her imagination. Then she moved on to breaking the seal and unfolding the letter. The dreadfully boring week she had been complaining about bitterly was about to get a whole lot more interesting.

_"J.  
  
I told you so.  
  
- G."_

Lucrezia swallowed. She knew that handwriting.

_Giorgenson! .....but it can't be. He's dead..._

On impulse, she turned the letter over and then back again, as if she had dreamed the message, but it was still there.

_...there's no date...he could have written it before he disappeared.....but still..._

She shook her head faintly, unable to tear her eyes off it, until she squirreled the note away in the pocket of her dress and flew upstairs, somehow needing to stow it in a safe place until Duo could take a look at it. Telling herself her judgement was being clouded by the mere hope that the kindly old crackpot might have survived whatever assassination attempts Cinq had thrown at him, she shut herself away in her room for awhile, to think. There was obviously a difference between a miracle and a foolhardy wish, but at that moment, it didn't matter.

**********  
  


Heero couldn't be sure anymore if the guards were coming in at regular intervals or not. At first there were four of them checking on his status while he was still healthy enough to put up a fight, then three, and now two, as there was no longer any need for the presence of extra muscle men. They would clip-clop down the hall with a lantern and a set of keys, open his cell door, close it behind them, and tighten the shackle around his leg, lest he slip out of it as he got thinner. There would have been no place to go had he gotten out of it anyway, but it was all part of the demoralization process. Berserkers had to be humbled before their ultimate execution.

Two goons walked down the hall. Two goons entered the cell. One watched the prisoner from a distance, holding what appeared to be a croquet hoop on a long pole over Heero's neck, a warning as well as a restraint. The other tightened the shackle with a small wrench. They were under orders never to interact with the prisoner, because there was a well-documented history around the world of prisoners striking up conversation with their jailers, developing pity for them, and eventually gaining the emotional upper hand, which made them harder to break. The goons were in and out in less than a minute, speaking nary a word to each other or Heero.

_...that wasn't very sociable..._

Once they were gone, Heero's wandering mind fluttered back to the immediate problem of thirst. In this dungeon, the only thing a prisoner could control was whether or not to continue drinking the foul-smelling water. As yet, no decision had been made.

_I suppose if Duo's right, and there is an afterlife, he's going to kick my butt all up and down the celestial firmament for giving up, and that won't be pleasant._

He made a feeble attempt to roll over on his side and patted his hand around on the rocks in the dark, until he found a puddle. It gave off an aroma of minerals and algae, but it wasn't too bad. Heero exhaled strongly.

_Well...I could always imagine it's a shot of Glenfiddich with a vodka chaser..._

The prisoner dipped his cupped hand into the puddle, brought it up to his mouth, and slurped down the stagnant liquid, wincing. Then he flopped back down on his back with a raspy and elongated coughing fit.

_Mazui! Just awful! ...oh well...at least it's not likely to get worse._

I wonder what day it is...

I'll bet it's Thursday...

Beef stew day...

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Next, in Episode Ninety-Four: Duo takes his team abroad and starts planning the biggest heist of his thieving life, but Wufei still can't get his head completely in the game. Relena appeals to Byron's ambition in an attempt to bargain for Heero's safety, while a dreadful fever sends Heero into a downward spiral of eye-opening hallucinations, where some of his most private and devastating questions are answered._

Boy...one episode ago, I still had a Grandfather and most of my health. *coughs up yellow stuff* I'm truly sorry for all the delays, but...sometimes life throws you a curveball. I'm going to make a VERY conservative estimate on when Episode 94 will be out...let's say...mmm.....Feb. 11th. I'm gonna try and make it. *deep breath*


	94. Spirit Walk Through Superior Flame

**A.N.** Here's a tip for ya, kids: **IF YOU DON'T PAY THE PHONE COMPANY, THEY WILL CUT OFF YOUR SERVICE. **Sucks, but it's true. I should know. -punches pillow- Also, I have a new roommate! I have to have a roommate because apparently I can't afford this apartment on my own. Her name is Allison. She's studying for her MBA. She doesn't watch "those weird cartoons with the big eyes" that I enjoy writing about. Nice girl. Strange, but nice.

**Warning:** Mild violence & language. 

**Disclaimer:** These characters are used and abused without permission. But they enjoy it. -

----------

Episode Ninety-Four: Spirit Walk Through Superior Flame

_"A boy tries hard to be a man,  
His mother takes him by the hand,  
If he stops to think he starts to cry...  
If you walkaway, walkaway...I will follow." -U2 _

September 23rd, 1903

--- Day One ---

Sally made many humming noises and clucked her tongue a lot while she carried out her emergency examinations. "Lucky you called me when you did," she said melodramatically while poking a tongue depressor into the mouth of horse-faced Grace. "Looks like I've caught this just in time."

All the assorted housemaids, minus Hilde but plus Merlyn the cook, were assembled in a line that stretched across the kitchen, and one by one the doctor was giving them a quick test for an exotic disease of which they were all very much afraid. Three of their number had fallen prey to it already, they had been told. Otto, who stood off to the side with his arms folded sternly across his chest, reeked of skepticism, and eyed the lady with severe mistrust. "I believe I said once before, _doctor_...that I _didn't_ call you."

"Well, someone did, and a good thing too!" Sally shot back while taking Grace's pulse with her little silver pocket watch. On one side of the petrified girl were Bethany and Pearl, and on the other side were Doris, Elsie, and Merlyn, who all counted themselves very lucky that the ailment hadn't spread any farther than it did.

Otto rocked back on his heels and glanced at the ceiling in frustration. "And you say we have four confirmed cases of...the 'Swahili Flu'?" he asked dubiously.

As the doctor moved down the line to Doris and felt around her neck for swollen glands, she took on a tone of great offence and indignation. "I _hope_ you're giving this situation the seriousness it deserves, sir! Mister Barton, Miss Noin, Miss Schbeiker _and_ Mister Sagheer are all _very_ ill, and will have to be _quarantined_ until the infection is eradicated!"

Otto lowered his eyebrows, less than convinced. "Mm."

Sally stepped back and addressed all the ladies at once, going straight over the house steward's head. "Ears open, everyone!" she commanded, clapping her hands. "You all check out fine, but this _whole house_ could be riddled with germs! It's imperative that you disinfect _everything_, and boil all the laundry before one scrap of it is used again! Scour all the pots, steam the floors, clear out all the ductwork and all the furnace grates..." She went on at them for about five minutes, going into a detailed list of symptoms they had to watch for, and if any of them showed the slightest hint of illness, they had to scrub harder. Afterwards, the ladies fell all over her with breathless thanks at being saved from a fate worse than the black death.

After the lecture, the girls scrambled off while Dr. Poole calmly packed up her Gladstone bag and buttoned her fern green jacket. Otto sidled up to her, hands clasped behind him, and hovered over her shoulder as if unwilling to let her escape unchallenged. "So...this 'Swahili Flu' of yours..."

Sally had sensed from the beginning that Otto wasn't buying any of her verbal snake oil, that he vaguely suspected the whole issue was a farce to give three of his staff some unauthorized time off, but it mattered little. "Yes?" she cooed sweetly, snapping her bag closed.

"All _kidding_ aside, I'm sure I don't have to tell you that if any employee of mine is found to be off the job for _fraudulent_ reasons, that job might not _be_ there when they get back." He leaned into her slightly, all bearish and menacing. "Understood?"

The doctor looked up with a heavy-lidded smile, laughed quietly once through closed lips, and dipped a hand into the pocket of her dress. "I've never been one to brag, especially about social matters, but I _do_ have a lot of friends. One of them works at the Times." She pulled out a folded sheet of paper, which she opened up and fawned over slightly. "He's in the typesetting department, and he gave me an advanced proof of an upcoming advertisement. It's very interesting."

She passed the paper back to Otto, who knotted his eyebrows up as he read it. It was the first ad for Sutherby Hotel, the Peacecraft's new business venture, around which there was supposed to have been a tight net of security until the official opening. Unfortunately, that net didn't extend to third-party 'friends' who worked in the typesetting department. Otto glowered.

"One of my _other_ friends," Sally continued, fixing her feathered hat in place with a long pearl-headed pin, "works for the government. He's a health inspector." She turned around and looked Otto in the eye while she pulled on her white gloves, smugly. "The first few months can be absolutely _critical_ when you're starting a new business, especially in food service and hospitality, and nothing will sink a newly-opened hotel faster than an unfavourable report from the health inspector. It could be anything...a bit of spoiled meat in the kitchen...a loose guard rail on a balcony...even a tiny little mouse running down the hall," she said, miming a scurrying motion with one hand, just before narrowing her eyes. "Sometimes it just depends on how hard the inspector _inspects_."

Otto leaned back. He fought like mad to keep it from showing on his face, but somehow she had the entire Peacecraft empire over a very uncomfortable barrel. In a sudden panic, he considered tattling to Milliardo about this threat to their success, but worried that the blame would boomerang back onto his shoulders, one way or another. In the brief moment when he might have salvaged some dignity by saying something sharp and witty, he ended up saying nothing.

Sally picked up her bag, smiled, and patted him on the cheek. "Take your vitamins," she purred in a sultry rasp before walking away.

After levelling poor Otto's ego, Doctor Poole showed herself out of the house and walked around the corner where her four desperately ill Swahili Flu patients were waiting by the side of the road with their suitcases and wearing their travelling clothes. She stopped next to them, and all five shared an aura of crafty self-satisfaction before turning and heading in the direction of the nearest train station together without exchanging a single word.

----------

Duo stared deep into the mirrored door of the medicine cabinet for a long time, until he could feel the murderous rage seeping out from under the mask of pleasant confidence. It was a difficult thing to perfect, but he was finally able to exude the icy presence of death while looking sweetly amicable, an unearthly combination that he very much liked. Once he had drunk his fill of the sight, he opened the cabinet door.

The first part of their plan was all about stealing Heero back from Jeffrhyss' clutches, but when that was over, the second part would take on utmost importance. It involved securing a safe place for him to stay while he recovered, and making him as comfortable as possible. Before Duo could leave London, he had to collect everything of even the smallest value out of the room above Catherine's pub. It was a difficult task; he had been purposely avoiding looking at any of Heero's things because it was just too painful.

One by one, he gathered the meagre belongings into Heero's weathered old suitcase. A toothbrush. A small pair of scissors. A pocket-sized comb with one prong missing. A bottle of cologne, one-eighth empty. A nearly-new shaving brush and straight razor--despite their age, neither of the boys had been able to grow any substantial whiskers yet. A blue face flannel. A water glass.

He lingered awhile, then moved back into the main part of the room, adding some of Heero's clothes from the modest chest of drawers in the corner. With each article he chose, he stopped to hold it up and wonder how much it would hang off his emaciated companion.

_...if he's still alive,_ he thought reflexively. Then he scowled, balled up the shirt he was holding and threw it on the bed. _Quit doing that! You heard what Sally said...it won't be life-threatening for weeks yet._ Somehow, that wasn't much comfort. He sat down on the bed and sighed.

Almost as an afterthought, he tugged open the drawer of the bedside table. Inside were a few more items, like a small wind-up clock with an alarm, a bottle of sleeping pills, a old dog-eared issue of "Chamber's Journal", and Heero's little stuffed tiger toy. He left the pills and the magazine, but took the other things, turning the tiger over in his hands and smiling. Tucked into the toy's back was the scrap of colourful woven cloth that they still hadn't found time to have evaluated. There was always one more act of vacant, meaningless maintenance to get done every day, and never enough time for what should have been infinitely more important. Duo sighed and put the tiger and the clock into the suitcase, but when his hand brushed accidentally against the little bottle of cologne, he couldn't squelch his sudden desire to pick it up. Before he could stop himself, he had opened it up and inhaled the vapours deeply. As soon as the familiar musky scent hit his brain, he instantly regretted it, and fought back tears as he quickly replaced it.

Then he huffed out an angry breath and squared his shoulders. _What, are you a baby or somethin'!? Grow up! Crying like a little girl isn't going to accomplish anything!_

While he waited for a response from himself, the chiming of Catherine's grandfather clock one floor below shook him awake. It was ten o'clock. If he didn't get moving, he'd miss the boat.

He hurriedly finished packing and bolted downstairs with the suitcase, plus his own carpet bag filled with essentials, and grabbed Catherine by the arm while she was heavily occupied pulling pints behind the bar. After a brief whisper in her ear, the pair of them ducked into the kitchen area for a chat. "Got something for me?" the proprietress asked with gleeful anticipation.

Duo had the suitcase in one hand and the carpet bag under the same arm, leaving the other free to dig around in his pocket for an envelope. Once he found it, he handed it over. "That was as much as I could scrape together," he admitted blandly. "Should be enough for both rooms for the next few weeks...I'll wire you the rest when I get some more."

Catherine gave him a tight-lipped and very sympathetic smile as she took the envelope in one hand and rubbed his arm with the other. "There's no rush, really. You guys have been some of my best customers for a long time...I just hope it all blows over soon."

"Thanks," Duo sighed, preparing to lie just a little bit. "You know how it is with family...they've only gotta say 'boo' and off you go..."

"Well, I think it's very nice of you and Wufei to go with him," she said, sounding like a mother hen praising her chick. "He needs the support at a time like this."

Duo nodded sloppily, not liking the icky feeling that developed in his stomach as his body started to reject the lie. "Yeah." It wouldn't do to have half of London know Heero's private business, and that's exactly what would have happened had he told the absolute truth. Just as Duo looked up, Yasmeen passed by with a platter of fish and chips bound for table twelve, and shrank guiltily away from his gaze. He looked down, supposing that Quatre's sisters knew at least that Heero was in some sort of trouble, and that they felt a tiny bit responsible, as if siding with Relena meant siding _against_ him. At no point did Duo ever think of accusing them, or of laying a single ounce of blame at their feet, but the rift was still there, and they were all putting more energy into hiding it from Catherine than they were into resolving it.

"Anyway, don't let me keep you," Catherine said cheerily, patting his shoulder obliviously while she put the envelope away in her apron. "And you tell Heero for me that I hope his mother's feeling better soon."

Forcing a slight smile, Duo nodded and let her walk back to the bar to serve another customer. There was still one more piece of baggage he had to pick up, so he left the bags hidden behind the counter and jogged back upstairs to fetch it. Without knocking or accouncing his presence in any way, he marched down the hall, burst through Wufei's door, dragged the boy up out of his chair by a firm hand on the arm, and steered him downstairs, oozing more and more authority with each step. Wufei did not protest. He didn't look pleased either, but he silently obeyed, clutching his own suitcase with his free arm and staring down at the floor for much of the journey. The pair paused at the bar so Wufei could pick up an extra suitcase, and then Duo scooped up his carpet bag and led the boy out like a naughty child on his way to detention. They took the next train to the pre-arranged meeting place, and not a syllable was uttered between them the entire trip.

----------

Though Eton was a very exclusive school with a limited number of students, the headmaster wasn't expected to deal with every disobedient student personally. Every rule had its exception, of course, but the miscreant in question would have to be particularly unruly and disrespectful to merit a disciplinary meeting with the top man of the institution. Byron was just such a student.

"Well!? What have you to say for yourself!?" A grayish, balding man with round spectacles and a long black mantle leaned over his desk in the cherrywood and green carpeted office, propped up by both sets of clenched knuckles and furiously demanding answers out of the blond lad seated opposite him.

Byron looked quite smart in his neatly pressed school uniform, and didn't seem a bit bothered by the predicament he was in, having been hauled in to answer charges of cheating on tests, rampant absenteeism, and just mouthing off in general, to name a few. He had tied together the ends of a long scrap of string and was calmly playing Cat's Cradle as the headmaster railed at him. Eventually, he looked up with a blankish expression. "I'm sorry, what was the question?"

The headmaster straightened up quickly with a frustrated grunt. "You see!?" he barked. "This is _precisely_ the sort of disrespectful and lackadaisical behaviour about which your professors have _repeatedly_ complained! As if it wasn't bad enough having less than 40 attendance, you will insist on being flippant and belligerent with your superiors! Well, it won't wash, young man! Any more of it and you're out!"

Byron kept looking down at his string game as he lazily rearranged it on his slender, nimble fingers. "Sooo...you want to _expel_ me?" he said, following it with an elongated pause. "Because if I leave, so does my sponsorship money, you know that, don't you?"

The balding man bristled. Byron delighted in knowing he had perhaps the finest school in the country wrapped around his little finger. It was ludicrously easy to funnel some of Jeffrhyss' money into Eton in the form of generous under-the-table grants to the faculty, thereby ensuring him a top-quality education, at least on paper, no matter how badly he screwed up. He could be as slothful as he liked, spending the bulk of his time on his continued effort to take over Jeffrhyss' empire, and still graduate with honours without hardly ever having to set foot in a classroom or crack open a single book. It was the sweetest deal he'd made yet.

"Mark my words, Mister Schaeffer," the headmaster snarled, leaning forward again, "mere money will only get you so far in life. We _both_ know that you haven't the class _or_ the breeding to fool the rest of the world...so you'd damn well better pick your feet up!"

Just then, there was a gentle rap at the door. The headmaster seemed more than happy to answer it, rather than keep arguing with Byron and hand over the rest of his professional dignity on a silver platter. Byron paid him no mind as he stalked out from behind the massive desk, and went on with his string game, until a voice from out in the hall wafted in. "I'm so sorry to disturb you," said a soft, sweet voice like a white dove's coo, "but I'm looking for a young man named Byron, and I was told he might be taking classes here. I'm afraid I don't know his last name..."

The rest of her words bounced right off Byron's ears; they were superfluous anyway. He sat straight up, twisted around in his chair, and caught a glimpse of an angelic, fair-haired girl in a cream lace dress through the slanted window of the half-opened office door. His eyes lit up. _The Peacecraft girl!_ He studied her face in more detail during the brief conversation. _Ring-a-ding-ding! Why, Heero, you old dog...you were very naughty, keeping her all to yourself._

Having given ample audience to the girl's request, the headmaster stepped aside and pointed her into his office. "Be my guest," he crooned with cloying misery, grateful to her for taking the boy off his hands for awhile. "See if _you_ can talk some sense into him."

Sensing that she was coming in and the old fuddy-duddy was going out, Byron sprang out of his chair, untangled the string from his hands and stuffed it in his pocket, smoothed out his hair, straightened his suit, checked his breath, and finally sat on the corner of the desk with one leg slung over the other, leaning languidly on one arm. _You snooze, you lose, pal. She's mine now!_ he thought lasciviously.

Relena entered the office with moderate confusion, looking back and jumping slightly as the door was slammed shut behind her. Drawing her satin shawl a little closer from the coldness of the headmaster's departure, she turned to the desk and stopped suddenly again, fighting to keep any visible evidence of surprise from showing. _That face...I know it from Morocco! He made a speech about Lord Jeffrhyss' accomplishments...I can't let on that I've seen him before._ She tried to look indifferent. "You're the infamous Byron, then?" she supposed out loud.

"Well, I wouldn't say _infamous_," Byron said with a toss of his head and a flattered chuckle. _At least, not yet._ He slid off the desk, reached out for the girl's lily white hand and bent down to kiss it gallantly. "Enchanté, mademoiselle. Byron Schaeffer, _esquire_, at your esteemed service. It's not every day I get a gorgeous blonde hot on my trail...to what do I owe the honour?"

Relena ignored the crass and innuendo-laced compliment and took back her hand. "I've been trying to track down Lord Jeffrhyss," she said. "People tell me you're his right-hand man."

"And why would the baby sister of young Master Peacecraft want to talk to a wrinkly old codger like him?" Byron purred back in a husky tone, raising an eyebrow.

At first, the girl blinked at being recognized, but soon it made sense. She was a target from the very beginning, when Heero was sent to cozy up to her, so obviously she had a file with the organization. Folding her hands and glancing to the side, she steeled herself for the opening volley of negotiation. "I'll come straight to the point, Mr. Schaeffer. I _know_ that a young man named Heero Yuy was kidnapped by Lord Jeffrhyss. He used to work for His Lordship, and I believe he was...repatriated recently." That was a bit of a bluff, as it was just an educated guess on her part.

Byron scrunched up his pale, thin eyebrows and folded his arms. _Now, how did she find out? I hope I haven't got a leak already..._ "Go on."

Relena involuntarily wrung her hands a little. _Once I start this, I can't take it back. I just pray that Milliardo never finds out._ "I've come to bargain for his safe return."

A multitude of negative emotions fluttered around Byron's head. He frowned a bit and shifted his stance. _Alright...he's still got some kind of hold over her, but I'm sure it's nothing a steak dinner and a bottle of Cabernet won't fix..._ "I wouldn't put too much credence in _wild rumours_ like that," he suggested, attempting to throw her off the scent. "And if there _had_ been such a kidnapping, I'm certain I would've heard of it by now."

"Don't be so quick to assume I'm wrong," she answered, half smiling and half scowling. "Maybe, just _maybe_, your employer knows something you don't."

Byron grinned slightly and swivelled his eyes upward, tapping his upturned mouth with one finger. , yes, I suppose he does," he mused out loud, revelling once again in a private joke. "So let's suppose my employer _does_ have this..._Yuy_ person in his custody. What precisely do you expect _me_ to do about it? Subordinates like myself don't have much say in these matters."

Relena took a deep breath and slowly let it out again. "I...can't offer very much in exchange...I'm sure His Lordship is very wealthy, and couldn't possibly benefit from any monetary compensation...all I really have to offer is information."

"...such as?"

".......the name of the anonymous applicant whom my brother represents."

Byron's eyes lit up. "Now _that_...might be worth something," he said, stepping back to lean against the massive desk again. _And I'll have to make a good offer on it._ "Unfortunately, His Lordship's schedule is rather difficult to squeeze into at the moment, so I couldn't possibly say when you could have an audience with him.....but if you were to tell _me_ the name, I would relay it to him as soon as I was able."

"And then he'd let Heero go?" the girl begged anxiously.

"My dear," Byron sighed, "these matters are very complicated. Releasing a prisoner without official correction involves ratifications, formalizations, reprobations, declassifications and immunizations." The stream of nonsensical double-talk worked a treat, leaving Relena totally bewildered and open to the very fiendish idea he'd just had. He smiled thoughtfully. "Unless..."

Relena nearly leapt on him. "_What_?"

"Oh, nothing, just a thought.....it occurred to me that it might be easier to simply hand you Mr. Yuy's papers of ownership and have done with it, assuming of course that this person is _actually_ in custody. I could take your information back to headquarters, and you could have his contract in a matter of days. It would save a small mountain of paperwork for us, which is _always_ a good thing." He ended the speech with another snakelike smirk, knowing that in a few weeks' time, Heero would be dead, and his ownership papers would be worthless.

Relena naively thought this was the best solution. "Oh, if you could do that for me, I'd be _eternally_ grateful!"

The lad continued to smile cattily and re-folded his arms. "I'll have to have the name _first_, of course," he prodded after a short silence.

At last, Relena balked, stopping to consider exactly what she was about to do. She imagined that everyone with even a little clout in the Cinq Association was chomping at the bit for the name of Milliardo's mysterious master. Whoever found out that person's identity first would be made doubly powerful, and might even have the power to influence the voting, when the time came. Giving the name away up front, to one of Jeffrhyss' lackeys, based solely on the promise that better things would come, was a highly risky move of which her brother would never approve, but the more she worried about Heero, the more she was convinced it was the right thing to do. Clutching bunches of her shawl in both hands, held tensly up to her waist, she took a step forward, leaned in close, and whispered the name into Byron's ear.

When she stepped back, the boy appeared lost and frustrated. "You can't be serious."

Relena looked down. "On my father's grave, I swear it's the truth."

"Well. That _is_ interesting." Byron looked to his right and gnawed on the inside of his cheek while he thought it over. _Eh...I suppose that does deserve me keeping my end of the bargain. At least I'll still look like the gracious one in her exquisite blue eyes._ He nodded slowly. "I'll get you your ownership papers..."

The girl inhaled with an excited shudder. The deed was done. Out of a delicate beaded handbag hanging off her shoulder from a thin silvery strap, she took a little embossed linen business card and held it out. "Please have them sent to this address, marked 'Personal'," she said. "And no _copies_, understand? The originals."

Byron took the card and flicked up an eyebrow at it. "But of course." She would likely have to make do with the originals anyway, as the copies had previously been stolen from the archives.

There seemed to be little more to say. Relena nervously untangled a few strands of hair from her ear and gave a quick "Good day to you" before letting herself out solemnly.

_Poor lovesick creature,_ Byron chuckled inwardly. _Never mind, dear...you'll forget all about him in time...with a bit of help, naturally._ For the next little while, he amused himself with his lewd imagination, daydreaming about what it would be like to slowly break down her starchy Victorian defenses and ultimately possess her, a pretty new toy to add to his collection of wenches. It could also prove to be a very clever move, strategically. _Sun Tzu was right,_ he chuckled inwardly as he left the room, twiddling her card between his fingers. _Keep your friends close, and your enemies even closer._

----------

Wasting no time, the various members of Duo's newly-adopted team followed a strictly-laid-out schedule for leaving London, heading into the Southlands, and catching the ferry to France. It was a spot in the mountains, partway between the borders with Italy and Switzerland, that Wufei eventually pointed out on the map, once he was sobered up and shamed into doing so. Not willing to take any chances, Duo checked in on him hourly until it was time to leave to ensure that he never left his room unaccompanied. In spite of all his slacking off and backtalk in the past, Wufei had somehow become the most critical member of the team.

The trip to the shoreline of England was uneventful, and very little was said amongst the seven young men and women even as they had their passports checked before boarding the ferry. On the boat itself, a lumbering bi-level beast about thirty years past its prime, they scattered themselves on the various rows of benches provided for those passengers who weren't interested in leaning over the siderails and enjoying the scenery, such as it was. The exception was Trowa, who sat outside the area enclosed in wood-framed windows, perched on a wooden crate. The rest kept to themselves, blending in among the other passengers so they could be alone with their thoughts.

After the first fifteen minutes of pacing around at one end of the sitting area to avoid two businessmen smoking cigars at the other, Lucrezia got bored and wandered over to a random bench where Duo had slung his feet up on the back of the bench in front, ignoring the disapproving glares of the other passengers. She dat down next to him, slumping backward. "Not really how I imagined my life turning out by this point," she grumbled, half to herself after awhile, "twenty-something with no husband, no prospects, no home...sat freezing out on the open water on a boat to France to do battle against organized crime..."

"Yeah, funny how things work out," Duo replied with thinly-veiled sarcasm. "By now I thought _I'd_ be lying dead in a ditch somewhere. I'm just _kicking_ myself now!"

Lucrezia glowered. "None of what's happened to you, or Heero, or anyone else prevents me from having problems of my own!" From the dark teal bag on her arm that matched her favourite dress, she took two small envelopes, one open and one sealed. She swapped the sealed one to the front and stared at it. "I wrote my family a letter...the first one in three years...and now I can't get up the gumption to mail it. If I do, they could start looking for me again, and if they find me.....I don't know..."

Duo swung his feet guiltily off the bench in front of him. "...sorry." He fully understood her underlying anxiety that her overly-possessive brothers would 'persuade' her to return home if they knew where she was.

"I don't really know _why_ I wrote it at all," she went on. "Maybe...maybe finishing with Milliardo left more of a gaping hole than I expected." The corners of her mouth turned up with a quirky twitch, and she tapped Duo lightly on the shoulder. "But I shouldn't be burdening you with my troubles."

The boy shrugged. "What's one more?"

Lucrezia nodded with resignation while swapping the positions of the envelopes again, so that the opened one was visible, and then took out of it the cryptic note she had found earlier. "Well, no matter how bad things get, I'm clinging to this for dear life," she declared, unfolding the note and running an eye over it yet again. It was the short 'I told you so' sort of thing that was addressed to Jeffrhyss and signed simply 'G'. "I know I've got a father of my own, but...Giorgenson felt like a father too, for awhile. If there's one chance in a million that he wrote this note--"

"Look, I don't wanna see you get your hopes up," warned Duo. "That 'G' could stand for anything, and _nobody_ would love to find the old coot alive and well more than me, but I'm not betting money on it." Suddenly depressed, he shoved himself up off the bench and raised both arms over his head. "Gonna go for a stretch," he muttered before wandering off. He didn't look back to see what Lucrezia thought of his comments.

She let him go just as blithely, having worries of her own with which she didn't want to burden him at this stage. Ever since she got up that morning, and all the way to the docks, she had the innate feeling that she was being followed, but not once when she turned around to look could she see the source of her anxiety. Even then, as she sat on the boat surrounded by only her closest allies, she still felt eyes upon her, upon them all. She shivered and rubbed one arm vigorously, vainly trying to put the nervous thoughts out of her mind for the rest of the journey.

Off to the side a short distance, Duo ambled around the seating area, about thirty feet by fifty feet with a wooden plank floor completely saturated with the surrounding salty atmosphere, until he landed at a window and peered out at the English Channel. It was a dull, lonely place to him, even though there was ample sunshine, brisk sea air, and plenty of other boats passing by. He had the sense that he'd feel completely alone in a mob of ten thousand well-wishers. Without Heero, it would be meaningless. He leaned his head against the window and sighed with his whole body, silently.

"Have you _got_ change for a penny?" Sally's voice crooned sarcastically from behind him. "Because I'm not paying full price for thoughts that do _that_ to a person."

Duo slouched around in a circle until he was facing a bench behind him and slightly to his left. Sally's eyes were diverted down to a piece of needlework fixed into a set of wooden embroidery rings, and she was slowly and calmly pulling a needle laden with pale blue floss through the taut fabric. A small sewing basket sat next to her, containing all the supplies she needed for a dozen cross stitch samplers, to keep her occupied during dull moments. Duo stuck his hands in his pockets and walked a few steps closer, but did not sit down. "Can I pay _you_ to take 'em away?"

The quip left Sally's face unchanged. "Sit."

"I don't feel like sitting."

"You don't have to feel like it, you just have to do it." Unexpectedly, she leaned sharply to her right, grabbed him by the braid, and yanked on it. Duo went down with a little yelp of pain, but sat as instructed. Then the doctor returned to her needlepoint. "There is absolutely nothing else you can do that hasn't been done, not until we get there, and _certainly_ not in the middle of the Channel. So just sit."

Duo sat and sighed, but before long, his right knee began to bob up and down like a bubble on the rolling surf as his foot twitched impatiently. "I _hate_ sitting. I hate not accomplishing anything. I haven't been able to _really_ relax since..." He closed his eyes, exhaled with great discomfort, and shook his head. "Don't tell the others...but I haven't got a plan at all. I'm just making this up as I go along, and once we get there, I don't know if I'll have the _faintest_ idea of what to do next. It seems so stupid to be in a hurry to screw up, but I just wanna get it over with! I wanna get in there and smash everything I see, and cut every last one of them to ribbons!"

With a thoughtful look, Sally put down her project. "You know what I think a certain someone would say if he were here now?" she asked. "He'd say, 'Don't jeopardize the mission by letting your emotions cloud your judgement. Try to separate what _you_ think the enemy deserves from the bare minimum of what needs to be done to get what you want.' Otherwise...mistakes happen." She paused to let the first bit sink in. "And the second thing he'd say would be 'Sit down and shut up before I tie your hair around your mouth and dangle you overboard by the feet'."

That got a light chuckle out of him. "_Yes_, he'd want me to concentrate, _yes_, he'd want me to relax...I'm just not sure if I can do it."

Struck by a glimmer of inspiration, Sally opened up her sewing basket and fished out some supplies. "Well, if you _really_ can't relax on your own, maybe you'd like to try some embroidery instead!" she cooed with sugary sweetness as she sifted through her cross stitch patterns. "Here's one of a country cottage, here's one of Baroque cherubs, here's one with frolicking bunnies..."

Duo squirmed.

"Oh, _this_ is the one for you!" Sally exclaimed, holding up a magazine page with stitch counts and a black-and-white drawing of the finished product. She smiled. "Kittens in a basket."

Her icky femininity had exactly the desired effect on Duo, who backpedalled like his brakes had failed on a downward slope towards a pool of pirahnas. He put on his cheery face. "Y'know what? I'm feeling a _lot_ more relaxed all of a sudden! Matter'fact, I feel great! Tremendously super! Boy howdy! I'm just going to go over here now..." Then he leapt up and practically ran to the exact opposite corner of the seating area, farthest away from the needlepoint. Sally smirked to herself, and returned to her craft.

Quatre, who was in the opposite corner to which Duo ran, had heard a little patch of the boy's raised voice but couldn't tell what he was saying. The cloud of frustration that swirled around the ex-chef grew stronger as he approached, and struck Quatre with a slight wave of nausea as he sat down. It wasn't helping the already-seasick lad, and he curled up into an even tighter ball, bent over his knees and holding a little vial of peppermint oil to his nose, inhaling the vapours in short spurts. Duo frowned sympathetically and gave him a little pat on the back. "Y'okay?"

Looking slightly green, Quatre's head swayed a bit to the side before tilting ambiguously. "I've never.....been a very good sailor," he managed, pausing in the middle to swallow down something bitterly unpleasant that crept suddenly up his throat.

"Aw, well...only about fifteen miles to go."

The blond boy just nodded, rocked backwards with a little belch that he trapped in his handkerchief, quickly replaced the peppermint vial, then glanced out the window. It was just outside this spot where Trowa was sitting on a crate on the outdoor portion of the observation deck. Quatre was never quite sure what to say to Duo lately, as he didn't know what to make of him anymore. They twiddled their thumbs in complete silence until Duo leap-frogged around Quatre on the bench so that he was wedged in between the gardener and the window. Most of the windows at that level were meant to open, though few of them did due to their frames absorbing years of excess moisture and swelling shut, but Duo managed to force the nearest one open, yanking the sash from left to right and poking his head outside. "How's the cargo?" he asked.

Trowa had been lost in his enjoyment of the seascape, but turned around when he heard the window open. "It's resting comfortably," he said, rapping his knuckles on the crate beneath him.

"So since you're the only one who knows how to hook it up, you and Hilde will be on the same team, right?"

"Right," Trowa agreed with a quick nod. Then, seeing Duo and Quatre sitting so close together, he got an idea. Convinced that his friend still had a spot of lingering paranoia about Duo and Heero, he set out to gather evidence to the contrary. "Say, um...as soon as Heero's well enough," he said with a cagey smile after making pointed eye contact with Quatre, "what d'you think you'll do to celebrate his freedom?"

Duo blinked innocently. "Dunno. Haven't thought about it."

Trowa shrugged. "Go for a few drinks maybe, hit some of those posh places in the west end, meet some unattached girls..."

The second Quatre realized what was happening, he leaned forward and sank his head into both hands.

"You know, I heard about this one place," Trowa barreled on, leaning closer to the window and upping the excitement level in his voice as if he was sharing a dynamite secret, "it's a snooker club with a saloon, and while all the men are in the back room playing each other for penny bets, all their widows sit out on the terrace and get plastered! I bet they'd _love_ to meet you two and let you entertain them for an evening..."

To Quatre's utter shock, Duo and Trowa grinned at each other and then started a locker room snicker that built up to a moderate crescendo and then calmed down again, leaving behind a residue of toothy smirks and knowing glances. "That's, um...that's a thought," Duo admitted.

"Sure it is!" cawed Trowa. "I can see the pair of you there right now, with a blonde on one arm and a redhead on the other..."

Maybe it was the stress talking, but it actually sounded good to Duo. "Well, we just might take you up on that," he said just before the pair on either side of him locked eyes intensely. Then Duo slung an arm around Quatre's shoulders, dragging him up and forcing him to smile weakly. "Maybe we could _all_ go, the four of us!"

Seeming satisfied with his detective work, Trowa went right on smiling. "Sounds great."

"_Only_ the four of us?" Quatre pointed out, glancing uncomfortably to his right.

Duo followed his gaze, and his eyes landed on Wufei, who was on the far opposite side of the same row of benches, hunched over a drawing pad and scribbling with a pencil. "Let's see if he comes through for us before making out the guest list," he grumbled. "Which reminds me...I'd better see how our resident artist is doing." His mood dampened, he stood and walked away, leaving the other two to clear up a little disagreement.

Before Quatre could express how embarassing the last five minutes had been, Trowa leaned his head right through the open window, gripping the bottom of the sill with his left hand. "Well?"

".....well what?"

"Did you _get_ anything?"

Quatre slumped. "I wasn't _trying_ to get anything off him...unlike _you_."

"I went to a lot of trouble thinking that up!" whined the stable hand. "You're still hung up on this wacky idea that him and Heero are a couple of weirdos, and I wanted you to see how ridiculous it is! All that talk about getting drunk in a bar full of semi-detached women who _wish_ they were single...I just said that so you could judge his reaction! If he really _was_...'odd'...then it would've been a total turn-off, right?" He waited just a moment. "So, what did he think?"

It was all too ludicrous for words, but Quatre didn't see an easy way out of it. He slumped a little more and looked away in defeat. "I think he liked it."

Trowa was triumphant and it showed. "There. You see? There's absolutely nothing wrong with him. You and your dumb ideas..."

Quatre reached over and shoved Trowa's head back out the window, then shut it, then locked it. _Hypocrite..._

Blissfully unaware of how deeply he was being discussed, Duo had prowled over to Wufei's bench and sat down a couple of feet away, close enough to look over his shoulder, but not 'chummy' close. Wufei turned his head slightly to see who it was, but then quickly returned to his work. Through several bouts of intense questioning, the group was able to slowly extricate from his drug-addled mind some very precise details about Jeffrhyss' primary headquarters. To atone for his past sins, he was given a pad of paper, a set of pencils, and a sharpener, and was told to draw as much as he could remember of the layout in the form of sketchy maps. A short pile of papers sat between the two boys on the bench; Duo picked up the top sheet and looked it over carefully.

"Wow...you're quite the little artist, aren't ya?" he said humourlessly, but with definite scorn. "You know there's a bunch of doors on here and nothing behind them, right?"

Wufei's eyes gave a mighty roll. "I wasn't given the grand tour," he sneered, concentrating on his current masterpiece. "You're lucky I can remember as much as I have. I was only there for a few weeks."

Duo looked up, eyes blazing. "Well, these had better not be semi-educated guesses!" he said in a commanding tone. "I'm staking the lives of my whole team on knowing where to be and when, and if you can't give me accurate layouts, somebody might get hurt!"

"_Might_ get hurt?" Wufei said with obvious sarcasm, finally lifting his head to look the other in the eye. "What does it matter? You're all dead anyway."

Sensing another of his self-important tirades coming, Duo folded his arms and leaned forward menacingly. Somewhat threatened, Wufei backed off a little, looking back down at his sketch pad, but the damage was already done, and Duo wanted to draw him out of his cave and beat him for it. "Oh no, please, I'd _love_ to hear your childish whines of negativity! Do continue!"

Wufei's head bobbed back up tiredly, and he gave him a snide glare, hanging his arm off the back of the bench. "Once I hand over these maps, I'm considering my debt paid _and_ getting the hell away from all of you. This whole mission is a death-trap. You're all going to be killed in action because this is the most reckless, foolhardy, egotistical thing you could ever _possibly_ do. Nobody carries out a head-on assault of a base this size without bringing along their own coffins."

The ex-chef squinted. "Oh, I get it. 'If Heero was here,' we'd all be a lot better off, because you don't think I'm up to the job!"

"I don't think either _one_ of you are up to the job!" Wufei laughed bitterly. "This is _suicide_, don't you _get_ it!? It doesn't matter who's in charge, the whole team's gonna be carried out feet first! Hope you can sleep at night if you survive!"

"There's no way I'm letting you off that easy. You're coming with us. You're going to do what you're told, or I'll put your ass in a sling _so_ fast--"

"Oooh, you think you and the other Merry Men can catch me without Robin Hood giving the orders?"

If Wufei had left that alone instead of waggling a limp-wristed hand at Duo while saying it in a scared little chipmunk voice, the unpleasantness that followed could have been avoided. Duo lashed out and cuffed him sharply about the ear, causing him to drop his sketch book and let both fists fly. A simple verbal skirmish soon escalated into a fierce brawl that had heads turning all over the ship. While they both managed to stay on their feet, they each had their arms locked in a death grip around the other's neck as they tried to wrestle each other to the ground. Within seconds, they were pulled apart by a mish-mash of passengers and team members amidst much shouting and commotion. The combatants were less than satisfied, but several strong words from Sally in particular convinced them to go to their separate corners and stay there for the remainder of the trip. It was all over in the blink of an eye.

Lucrezia watched with a bored sigh from her perch several benches away. _This is a disaster in the making, I can feel it._ She tried briefly to dstract herself with her letters, but it didn't last long, and she turned her gaze to the windows instead.

And there, just barely poking out behind some wood panelling, was a face, looking in the window to see what all the ruckus was about, and then tilting to accidentally peer directly at her. As soon as eye contact was made, the face quickly disappeared, but not before Lucrezia got a good long look. She rose slowly from the bench, clutching her letters closely. It had been a man's face, clean-shaven, underneath a navy blue sort of brimmed cap, like part of a military uniform. She had seen that cap before.

Losing no time, she hitched up her skirts and shoved her way past a couple of passengers to get to the glass enclosure door, and flew through it, nearly pulling it off the hinge. Outside was decking that wrapped all the way around the enclosure, and at the four corners were staircases down to the next level of decking, at water level. Here she bumped into members of the crew and more passengers, and looked in every corner she could get to without going through doors marked "Crew Only", but couldn't find the man in the blue cap. She stopped at the railing to think and catch her breath, peering over the edge at the water rushing by.

_...I could swear that was the same uniform worn by the men chasing after Heero.....they're here, on the ferry. They're following us._

Lucrezia turned around, curled one hand around the railing, and thought. Then, for reasons she would keep to herself, she went quietly back upstairs to the enclosure and sat down, never mentioning anything to Duo about the men in blue uniforms. Perhaps she feared looking foolish if it turned out to be a coincidence, but there was no way to know for sure.

The rest of the journey to France was made without incident.

--- Day Two ---

As the seat-of-the-pants plan developed, Sally practically begged for the opportunity to provide a key distraction for a select group of guards at the mountain fortress' front gate, but wouldn't say what the distraction would be, keeping it locked behind a tight-lipped smile. She did manage to reveal that she needed some very specific materials to do her job, so a brief supply mission was planned.

The group had spent the night in a cheap boarding house outside Versailles, just west of Paris, but for the supply run, they logically had to re-enter the city. Far beneath the thick layer of ever-building battle-madness, Duo was a bit disappointed that on his second trip through France, he _still_ wasn't able to see any sights or really experience the famous town at all, but without Heero, he wouldn't have enjoyed himself anyway. Because several of them needed to make separate purchases of their own, Duo, Trowa, and Quatre went with the doctor to one of the few carriage houses remaining in the area, further proof that the horse and buggy were slowly going the way of the dinosaur.

Sally did all the communicating with the carriage driver, surprising her travel-mates with a previously undemonstrated fluency in French. They made several stops picking up various items that would hopefully be of use to them--dark clothing to reduce nighttime visibility, implements of first aid in case of injury, and a few non-lethal but still black-market weapons, including a quarterstaff and a sling made of coarse netting. Few of the team had ever handled firearms before, and if they really wanted to kill anyone that badly, Wufei offered to lend out some of his less valuable daggers, though he didn't expect anyone would have the nerve.

"I can't stand the suspense much longer!" exclaimed Quatre as the four of them carried bundles of second-hand clothes, all black or very dark blue, from a consignment store back to the carriage. "What's your distraction going to be?"

"I'd better not get your hopes up," Sally said slyly. "We don't even know if we can actually _use_ it yet."

Duo opened the carriage door for her as he offered his two cents. "Hey, if you think you can keep a whole gatehouse full of guards occupied for ten minutes, I'm all for it."

Smiling adorably, Sally leaned to her left and shouted out a destination to the francophone driver. "Le Chat Noir, s'il vois plaît!"

The driver, a pudgy-faced, poorly shaven, grumbly fellow with a limp and a sour expression, gave the command only a moment's consideration before growling out a raspy reply. "C'est fermé, Madame."

"Ohhh..." Sally pouted and slouched.

"What's wrong?" Duo asked.

"I needed to borrow some clothes from the girls I used to work with, but the place I would've gone to get them is closed..." Her voice trailed off and her eyes glazed over as she was momentarily transported to another time and place. Inside a little bubble that separated her from the noisy flow of carts, horses, people, and motorcars filling the rest of the street with life, she seemed very sad. "...never thought I'd see that place go..." A second or two later, she lifted her face to the sunshine and thought up the next place to start looking for her past friends. "Bien sûr...'Au Lapin Agile'?"

This time, the driver nodded. "Oui, Madame."

They all piled back in with their purchases and off they went to another part of the sparkling city. By now, the boys were monstrously curious about Sally's plan. Sitting directly opposite her, Trowa folded his arms and arched his visible eyebrow. "So what was 'The Black Cat'?" he inquired, using his own limited French to translate the first destination she had asked for, the one that was turned down flat.

The doctor blushed slightly at the six eyes now focused on her like long-range telescopes, desperate to know her secret. She smiled again and leaned back, carefully weighing how much to reveal and how much to keep hidden. "It was...a kind of club...a centre for the arts, in the eyes of some," she began delicately. "I worked my way through medical school there...best years of my life."

"What kind of club was it?" Quatre asked innocently. "Sports? Or card games? What did you do there?"

The redhead laughed softly, turning her head to hide the pearly smile that followed. "...I..." She paused, but never continued. The boys would simply have to wait until they arrived.

Gradually their carriage rolled through the bohemian district of Montmartre as the sun climbed higher in the sky. They could sense a change in the atmosphere almost the very second they crossed the border into this highly artistic and philosophical neighbourhood. A touch of mystery was added to every little sidestreet by groups of free-thinking citizens in unconventional clothes, sitting at wrought iron patio tables in open-air cafés, drinking peculiar liqueurs and discussing the meaning of life and other high-brow topics. Unless they were merely trying to inebriate themselves well in advance of lunch.

The roads seemed narrower, and the buildings taller, but the effect was cozy rather than claustrophobic; the very ground they rode on tended to dip and slope like a roller coaster, giving the impression that the whole quarter was an elaborate fun house built to confound the senses and leave uninitiated visitors reeling from the shock of having all their starchy Victorian values stripped away. Art salons, dance halls, theatres and havens of haute cuisine lined the boulevards up and down, creating lush breeding ground for radical new ideas that the rest of the world may not have been ready for. As the boys hung their heads out the carriage windows, they breathed deeply to saturate themselves with this strange new land, where the colours were brighter, the music more sensuous, and the air more thickly-laden with exotic scents and conversations as deep as the sea. Never had the three youngsters ever been exposed to such a cosmopolitan fantasy land, driven hour after hour by its own rhythm of life...and they liked it.

It seemed odd when Sally gave a shout up to the driver that made him turn down an alleyway after rounding a corner where an earthy stucco building with a low, sloping roof attached to what looked like a small travellers' inn sat, with trees and shrubs giving shade and colour, towered over by a street lamp on a tall pole. The quartet disembarked in the alley, whereupon Sally knocked on a rear door marked 'Priv'. As they waited, Quatre took a moment to marvel at a violinist standing on the opposite street corner. He stood in a relaxed pose, singing through his instrument about love and beauty and other fine French virtues, but what was remarkable was that he asked for no money. There was no upturned cap sitting on the pavement to collect coins. He played his music for the music's sake.

When the door eventually opened a crack, the doctor smiled at the sliver of a pretty young lady's face and spoke to her in French. The two had never met before, but Sally only had to mention a few other girls' names, and the door was flung open with enthusiastic, if indecipherable, words of welcome. Sally and the tawny brown-haired girl clasped each other by the forearms and exchanged a very continental double-kiss as if they had been old friends separated by a thousand miles of ocean for twenty years. Sally seemed to ask a question while the girl peered at the three young men stood isolated on the door stoop. Then, to their surprise and moderate delight, she nodded and spoke to them in heavily-accented English. "Zees way, zees way!" she chirped pleasantly, waving them inside.

The boys half-smirked to themselves and followed the women into an odd, cavernous space that was all unfinished wooden walls, stacked with various painted cut-outs and backdrops, like scenery for a play. Only then did they notice that the brown-haired girl was actually in the middle of a fitting for some sort of costume. It started with ballet slippers on her feet, rose through a nearly floor-length skirt of chiffon in wispy, ragged layers of green, auburn and gold up to a bodice of dark green velvet decorated with real ivy leaves, and topped with a headdress of more chiffon held in place by twisted vines, giving her the appearance of a woodland nymph. A wardrobe woman stuck pins into the back and sides of the outfit while the wearer continued to talk animatedly with Sally. Then a young stage hand pressed past the boys with a coil of rope on one arm and a rolled-up canvas painted with an Egyptian motif in the other. Then they heard far-off music, a twenty-odd-piece orchestra. Then the stamping of feet and the shouts of a man completely in charge of something enticingly hidden.

"Where _are_ we?" Quatre whispered with spiritual fear. Something about this place unsettled him. The other two simply couldn't answer.

"Okay, I've just go to go talk to some people," Sally interrupted, stepping back over to them, "so you three are going to sit and wait in the manager's office, alright?" She shoved the lot of them into a little room with a bureau completely obscured by piles of paper, and shut the door in their faces before any of them could protest.

They stared at the door for several seconds. "...maybe I'm paranoid," said Duo, "but I'm getting the distinct impression that she doesn't want us around for this part."

Trowa folded his arms and pouted just a little bit. "I think you're right."

Just then, from beyond the office door came the faint shouts and squeals of glee belonging to a whole pack of young French ladies, howling like jubilant little banshees. Duo raced up to the door, pressed his ear against it, then wheeled on the others with a scowl. "She's having fun _without us_!"

Trowa clomped to the door militantly. "Well, we're not _having_ that, are we?"

"We most certainly are not. And I think it's our duty to investigate."

"I couldn't agree more."

They both turned to Quatre, who was being quietly obedient in his own understated way. The blond boy blinked at the pair of them. "...but Sally asked us to stay here..."

Duo shook his head at Trowa. "Terrible. No backbone whatsoever."

"Oh, he has his moments," the other replied. "Just not _now_."

Quatre swallowed. He was then grasped firmly on either side, by the arms, and marched straight to the office door. Together they opened the wooden slab just a sliver, then a bit more as they saw no one was about. Creeping into the hall, the trio tiptoed further into the catacombs until they could take turns peeking around the corner at the giggly commotion that had their collective curiosity and jealously whipped up into a little green tornado. Sally was surrounded by women about her age, six or seven altogether, all thinly dressed and smiling as they clutched and cooed over the foreigner they had befriended years ago. There was a joyful discussion in French about what had been going on in their lives since they parted, but none of the boys could follow it properly, so they slunk away to explore elsewhere.

While they glanced questioningly at each other, wondering where to creep to next, the far-off music kicked up to a new fervour, and was accompanied by rhythmic stomping and commands barked out by a man's voice. Intrigued, they followed the sounds through the wood-lined labyrinth as far as it would take them, and what they found at the end of the trail left them irreversably astounded.

The halls they had travelled made up the backstage area of a kind of dinner theatre, with a stage overlooking a large but cozy room dotted with round wooden tables and round-backed chairs, each ensemble adorned with a Tiffany lamp and red satin placemats. The centre portion of the stage jutted out several feet, and on either side was a split orchestra pit, where about two dozen musicians in plain clothes were plying their bows and reeds with spirited vigor, according to the direction of a balding man in a blue cardigan who stood before the stage alone. Still, as fanciful as all this was, it paled in comparison to what was actually _on_ the stage.

Girls. Twelve pretty girls in ruffled dresses with tight-fitting bodices of black, white, and scarlet. Girls in short ankle boots, kicking their legs in the air to the beat of lively music. Girls smiling, laughing, hooting, and snapping their heads from side to side so that the long red feathers in their headdresses caught maximum air and fluttered prettily. Girls tumbling and doing cartwheels, displaying enormous acrobatic prowess through their precisely choreographed routine. Girls deliberately lifting their skirts and showing off their shapely gams without shame. Girls gone wild.

Suddenly, the director shouted and clapped his hands twice, and the girls stopped and stood casually as he pointed out the minute things they hadn't done quite right. It was a dress rehearsal.

The boys quickly darted away from their hiding place before they could be noticed. They pressed their backs against the most convenient wall and stood frozen, staring, unable to make eye contact. If what they had just seen had occurred in broad daylight on a busy street in London, they would all be arrested and hauled away for indecent exposure. After several seconds, only Duo could make a sound. ".........woah."

The next sound, that of Sally wrapping up her conversation, sent them scrambling back to the office, half-crouched over and praying not to be seen by anyone, least of all her. They ran in and slammed the door, then stood around huffing and puffing for awhile. Trowa ran a hand through his hair, so the others could see his eyes were as big as dinner plates. "What.....was _that_?"

Quatre pointed nervously at the door. "...s-she wouldn't...have anything to do with..._that_ sort of thing.....would she?"

"Well...we shouldn't assume that the place where she used to work was even remotely like this," Duo ventured, adjusting his black waistcoat self-consciously.

Trowa nodded out of desperation. "Yeah, and...even if it was, she was probably about our age at the time, so she might have been...a waitress or...something."

"Or a hat check girl."

"Or a cleaning lady."

"Or a kitchen helper."

"Yeah, any of those."

"Yeah."

They froze like little stone gargoyles, staring at the floor with their hands in their pockets, until someone rapped lightly on the door. They jumped in unison. "Boys?" Sally called from without.

"Ye-es?" squeaked Quatre, his voice crackling into the soprano range briefly.

"I want to show you something the girls loaned me," she said, muffled by the door, "and I want you to tell me if you think it's distracting enough."

After glancing at each other and asking with their eyes if they had anything to worry about, Duo answered for all of them. "Sure."

The door opened and in walked Doctor Poole; in doing so, she permanently seared the eyeballs fixated on her. Sally's outfit made the twelve dancing girls look like outright prudes. It was a bright blue concoction with silver sparkles and clear white gems adorning it in strategic places. It was low-cut at the top, where her bosoms were moulded into a more appealing position, and high-cut at the bottom, showing off long, slender legs in bejewelled silk stockings, that were beige at the top and blended smoothly into a rich brown, disappearing behind a pair of short brown ankle boots. Her hair hung in loose red curls, with a bounce and shine found only in high-society color plate fashion magazines. Draping down from the small of her back was a tumbling cascade of blue ostrich feathers that just brushed the tops of her boots, and the hand that wasn't busy closing the door held two large feather fans of the same bright blue. Topping the ensemble was a hair clip at the back of her head that held a spray of smaller feathers sprouting from a large false diamond, crowning her obvious eroticism with tasteful elegance. "Well?" she asked expectantly.

Things were going from bad to worse for the poor boys, all three of them clearly going red in the face. Duo had never seen that much female leg in all his life, and he wasn't able to ignore it as easily as he might have thought. The other two had seen plenty of legs before, but not of their own volition, and Sally's display brought about a mixture of bad memories and good intangibles that were best not described. It was terribly confusing.

Sally smirked. _A bit too much for them, now that I think about it. Poor dears._ "I should explain."

"No no!" Duo blurted, holding up a hand to stop her. "Really. We don't need to know. Do we, fellas?" The other two couldn't tear their gaze away long enough to acknowledge this, but they made some passive little grunts to serve as their agreement.

The redhead sighed slightly and pressed on anyway. "My parents were always supportive of me becoming a doctor, but I wanted to prove I could do it all by myself. No matter how often they offered me money for tuition, or room and board, I wouldn't take a penny of it. I finally found a school in Paris willing to take women on as students, and my academic record got me in the door easily...I just had to figure out a way to pay for it.

"I already had some training in ballet, so I looked around for jobs in dance halls. The 'Chat Noir' was absolutely _perfect_ for me! Full of artists, poets, musicians, philosophers, intellectuals...my very first week dancing, Claude Debussy _himself_ came to the show and asked to meet me afterwards. We had a _marvelous_ conversation about cross-medium impressionism." She smiled and blushed. "And he promised to write a sonata for me." The following silence was heavy and dense, like one of Duo's own chocolate cakes before he learned the subtle difference between baking powder and baking soda.

Quatre suddenly seemed to ignore the 'bare legs' issue, and was swept up in the glamour of the bohemian lifestyle, something he only could have read about in books back home. "Did you ever dance at the 'Moulin Rouge'?" he asked, wide-eyed.

Sally frowned snarkily at him, perching her hands on her hips and shifting her weight around. "Do you know how many kickline girls have to fall into the orchestra pit and _die_ before I make it to the 'Moulin Rouge'?" she kvetched. "Anyway...our place was nothing like that gaudy dive. We were a clean, _nicely_ run establishment, and management never required us to sleep with the clientele," she finished with obvious distaste.

She thought she had put them in their place until Trowa, arms casually crossed as he was getting used to the sight of her, piped up with, "But you could if you _wanted_ to, right?"

The doctor huffed over and slapped him with a blue feather fan. "Why am I even _discussing_ this with you!? I only brought you here for your opinion on the outfit, not an editorial on cabaret lifestyle!" She pouted and wandered to the other side of the room. "I should've waited until Lucy was over her migraine..."

"There's something I don't understand," said Duo, turning to follow. "The day we met, you were standing on a street corner, making fun of men in general and handing out leaflets on women getting the vote...you're the only lady doctor we know and you just land with _both feet_ on anyone who _dares_ doubt your credentials.....and all that time, you used to be a _showgirl_? Isn't that a bit...hypocritical?"

Trowa and Quatre each took one giant step backwards.

"The two things aren't mutually exclusive," Sally replied with shocking calm. "Being a feminist doesn't necessarily mean you don't accept your own beauty, you know...we don't all wrap ourselves perpetually in bulky gray dresses and run to the nearest policeman when some fellow whistles at us. The whole idea of women's rights is that we should be able to _choose_ how to live without some _man_ telling us what to do." Then she smiled sweetly, and gracefully took a fan in each hand, spreading them in front of her lower half like a crinoline-lined skirt. "Now...shall we get off this subject which I regret bringing up and talk diversionary tactics instead?"

The boys relaxed a little bit after that. "Can we see your routine?" Quatre asked excitedly, anxious to experience a foreign art form. He took a chair in the middle of the room, and Trowa availed himself of the small sofa after moving a pile of papers to the floor, but Duo remained standing.

"There's not really enough room in here," Sally mused while glancing around, "but I can give you the gist of it." She staked out a patch of unused floor and demonstrated a small snippet of her fan dancing technique, holding one fan over her nose down to her waist, and keeping the other over her legs, slithering around to expose them in miniscule increments. Since there was no music, she added her own matter-of-fact commentary. "I didn't usually do this routine, it was a bit racy for day-to-day use...this is actually the same outfit I wore, though...they saved it for me. Still fits, too. I was the 'Proud Peacock' in the late-night show...waving my wings around...teasing them with a bit of leg and then taking it right back.....and of course if we had a V.I.P. in the audience, I was supposed to prance over to his table and drape my tail feathers in his lap." Then she put the fans down and shifted her weight to one foot, looking at the boys for signs of understanding. "...like that, basically. It's a lot more dramatic with full stage makeup, but you get the idea."

Duo stood thinking with his arms folded while the other two applauded the impromptu performance. Trowa even threw in a whistle. When the commotion died down, Sally turned toward Duo, who still hadn't provided a response. He gnawed on the side of his thumb for a bit, then stood quietly awhile longer. "And you plan on doing that in front of a whole gaggle of enemy guards in the gatehouse?"

Sally blinked. "That _was_ the idea..."

Duo shook his head at her. "I don't think so."

"What's the matter _now_?" whined Quatre. "Weren't you watching? That was really good!"

"Yeah!" Duo barked back. "A little _too_ good!" He shrugged off all the glares of dissatisfaction and stood firm. "Half a dozen big, burly guys, possibly armed, locked in a gatehouse with her, alone, looking like that? I _don't_ think so."

"Awww," Sally cooed lovingly, and she stepped closer to squeeze the boy's shoulders and kiss him on the cheek. He grimaced and wiped it off quickly. "You're such a sweet, considerate angel."

"Ew. Knock it off."

"...but just the same, if you pair someone up with me, like Wufei, I'm sure he could handle them if they got out of control."

"Look! ...I'm sure you've dealt with your fair share of drunks and perverts in your short time, but this is different! It's murderous cutthroats with guns, knives, and what-have-you, and since _I'm_ in charge of this mission, I'd..." He paused, then shrank a bit, with apologetic eyes. "I'd never forgive myself if something went wrong."

That pretty much scuttled it right there. If the mission leader determined that a risk was unacceptable, that risk would not be taken. His word was final. Sally resigned herself to it with a disappointed upward flick of her eyebrows, and Quatre slumped in his chair a bit. There had been some wheels turning inside Trowa's head, however, and he only took a few moments more to pull together his own take on the matter. "What if we found someone _else_ to sic her on?" he wondered out loud.

They all gazed at him curiously. "Like who?" Duo asked.

"Like..." Trowa took a few seconds to stare at Quatre, as if preparing him for something unpleasant. "...someone in a position of power...someone so slimy and lustful that no force on Earth could make him refuse a gift-wrapped dancing girl left on his doorstep."

Quatre's eyes widened slightly. _Could he mean Byron? Oh, for pity's sake, Tro, be careful! Don't make Duo wonder how you know so much about his character or we could both be found out!_

Intrigued, Sally brushed off another chair, swung her tailfeathers off to the side and sat down, leaning forward as if she had forgotten how low-cut her bodice was. "What do you have in mind?" she purred, sensing an even better plan was on the horizon.

Trowa told them his idea, which was quite a bit more involved than simple distraction, but somewhat less central to the rescue effort. Seemingly reading his fair-haired friend's mind, he kept to himself the details of how he knew Sally's alternate target was a leering, drooling wolfhound with a surplus of hormones and a deficiency of morals, for revealing what happened in Byron's secret den wouldn't have been good for anybody. The other three listened intently, hearing new possibilities they hadn't even considered, and soon it became the one part of the master plan in which they all felt confident. It was liberating at first, but soon it reminded them all of just how much farther they had to go.

----------

Heero could only get away with drinking filthy water off a scummy stone floor for so long before it began to catch up with him. Though he was in too much agony to notice, as his internal organs screamed out in pain for blessed nutrients, an infection was rapidly spreading through his system. The most prominent symptom of that infection was a fever.

He'd suffered a similar fever once before, as a child, when he was too young to remember it. Then, he was well cared for, and recovered quickly, but this time he was not so fortunate. His temperature climbed. The dingy rags he wore clung to his thinning frame, dampened by a mixture of ground water and sweat. He laid slightly curled up on his side with both hands pulled above his head, as if tied to an invisible bedpost, but even in his exhaustion and dreams of being restrained, he was not perfectly still. The rising fever shook and swayed him, and the blinding heat cascading down his brow cast a cloud of delerium over his mind, and he began to slowly slip away...

When Heero next opened his eyes, he was mildly surprised to find himself standing upright. Looking around, he saw his cell, dark but clearly visible. It seemed at least twice it's normal size, and the walls appeared to be bowing in and out faintly like a giant bellows. Odd as this behaviour was, it didn't command Heero's attention as much as the lack of steel bars that had previously caged him. With a blink, he stepped away from his cell.

Something about the renewed strength of his legs and the soundness of his body set off a little alarm in the back of his mind, calmly suggesting that what he was experiencing wasn't real, but it was ignored. He was content to walk barefoot down the stone-walled hallway, and took a moment to notice when the scenery changed. After a smooth transition, he was walking down a cement corridor of a training base, not unlike the Isle of Wight. It was an identical likeness, from the electric lamps caged in thick wire and spaced at regular intervals down the hall, to the seams in the concrete left behind by the foundation's pouring moulds.

_Still haven't fixed that,_ Heero thought as he passed by a flickering light bulb.

Around the corner, the hallway changed again. There were doorways without doors on either side, stretching a hundred yards in front of him. As he swivelled his head from side to side, peering into the rooms, he saw the same sight over and over--a blackened room with an empty chair turned directly away from the door. Over each chair was a hanging electric lamp, with a shade that guided the light down, letting none escape to the sides.

Room after room he passed, and coming from each one he heard a strange sound...the cry of a young boy being whipped and beaten, screaming in pain and whimpering for mercy in some foreign tongue. It was faint, but with each room he walked past, a fresh copy of the same unintelligible yowling was added, overlapping and blending into a tumult of white noise.

_I wonder what he did wrong,_ Heero thought with a mental shrug, not recognizing the tiny child's cries.

Eventually, he became mildly annoyed by the ruckus, and coldly wished it would stop. One step further, and he froze, noting to his left a sign held up on a gilded iron stand and painted with a tasteful leaf motif in black on white. The sign read, in large serif letters, "Shhhh!"

As soon as Heero read the sign, the screaming stopped.

Two new lines of text appeared on the lower half of the sign, as if they had always been there. They read "Choir practice in progress." When Heero looked up from the sign, there was a wooden door. He opened it.

When the door swung inward, a brilliant light streamed out, and it took a moment for Heero's eyes to adjust, but before they did, he took note of a new sound. Many different voices this time, but hardly shouting in pain. He reached up to rub his eyes and then focused on a peculiar sight. Standing on three tiers that made a semi-circle around a podium was a fifty-voice Southern Baptist choir, men and women, young and old, with varying shades of dark skin and gleaming white teeth, dressed in long gowns of purple trimmed with gold. They swayed slowly from side to side in time with music they made themselves, an _a cappella_ anthem in four-part harmony, slow and mournful yet filled with determination.

_"Soon I will be done with the troubles of the world,  
Troubles of the world, Lord, the troubles of the world.  
Soon I will be done with the troubles of the world,  
Goin' home to live with God..."_

This was not the strangest part of the scene. That award went to the conductor of the choir, who stood on the podium with his back to the door, gracefully waving his arms to shape the notes and phrases coming forth from his flock. His face was hidden, but the long brown braid was a fine piece of identification.

_Duo?_

Heero attempted to enter the room, but his feet felt like lead. He couldn't cross the threshold into the glowing golden room that had no walls. Then he tried calling out to Duo, but found that he was mute, and became a bit frightened at the feeling of helplessness and confusion. While he struggled to make a sound, the choir continued their song passed down from their ancestors for two hundred years, about how wonderful it would be to depart their wretched earthly existence and meet the loved ones they had never known...their fathers, mothers, brothers and sisters, and their blessed Lord Jesus. They exuded the feeling of being together yet alone, so alone. The fact that Duo wouldn't turn around and acknowledge Heero's presence wasn't helping.

Annoyed and untouched by the experience, he found the power to turn away, and the door vanished as soon as it was ignored, taking the choir with it.

From there, he walked on down the same hall, but became increasingly aware that the whole structure was sloping upwards, making each step more tiring than the last. There were no more doorways on either side, and no more electric lights, but light still came from somewhere. By the time Heero could see an end to the ever-sloping hallway, the grade had become so steep that he was crawling up it on his hands and knees, fighting to adhere to the cement floor lest he tumble backwards down to certain injury. At the top of the slope was another wooden door, identical to the last. Sensing that he _had_ to reach it, Heero dragged himself closer, inch by inch, scraping his hands against the nearly vertical concrete until he could just barely reach out and brush the door with his fingertips. It swung open slightly. With every ounce of strength he had, he managed to pull himself up over the precipice and roll onto his back at the finish line, panting with exhaustion.

He laid flat for a few moments to catch his breath, then glanced over and saw that someone had closed the door.

"Oooh, you're late," a familiar voice said scoldingly. "I'd just about given up on you."

Heero looked up and saw a hand being extended to him, to help him off the floor, but he couldn't see past it. He clasped the hand, felt a pull on his harm, and was suddenly upright, wearing his old black pinstriped suit from his butler days. He patted himself down to see if it was real, then seemed to accept it.

"Still, there's always room on my calendar for an old friend," the voice continued.

Squinting, Heero followed the direction of the voice until he found the source, a fair-haired young man turned the other way, wearing a brown tweed suit. The surroundings had changed radically; they both stood in a warm but formal-looking office, with lavish Persian rugs overlapping on the hardwood floor, a large desk with a green-shaded accountant's lamp appearing to grow out of it, a red plush chaise longue, and a few little assorted tables with knick-knacks such as a world globe, which was nothing but ocean, and a crystal liquor service. The room was perfectly round, about forty feet in diameter, and the one circular wall was nothing but one solid bookshelf, stuffed to capacity with brainy-looking books. There was no ceiling to the office--the wall stretched straight up to the blackness of infinity.

The fair-haired lad in the brown tweed suit turned around once Heero had seen the full scope of his haven. It was Quatre...but he didn't look quite right. Not only was the suit a bad match for him overall, but he wore a pair of tiny half-moon spectacles on the end of his turned-up nose, and he was sporting a moustache and goatee that were blatantly and absurdly drawn onto his face with a ladies' eyebrow pencil. The effect was highly comical, though Heero was in no fit state to laugh. "...where am I?" he managed finally, surprised to have a voice again.

"This is my office!" the phantom Quatre replied proudly. "While you were away, I went to Harvard and became a psychiatrist!"

"Oh." Heero knew on some level that this wasn't quite right either, but he couldn't pinpoint why. "Well, um.....good for you."

The pleasantries concluded, Quatre pointed him to the chaise longue. "Now, if you wouldn't mind taking a seat, we'll get on with our session," he said, pulling the green leather tilt n' swivel from behind the desk and sitting.

"What session?"

"The one you're paying _me_ for, of course! And it's lucky you're my only patient, or I would've had to reschedule. You really ought to work on showing up on time for these things."

As one does in a dream-like state, Heero failed to ponder that thoroughly, but walked over to the chaise longue and made himself sit down. The ridiculous-looking Quatre-shaped apparition looked up, cleared his throat in a disapproving way, and made hand gestures to the effect that Heero should lie down properly with his feet up, so the scene would look like a psychiatric session as illustrated in layman's periodicals.

With a faint scowl, Heero laid back, put his feet up, folded his hands on his chest, and stared up at nothing.

"Now then," Quatre began, already scribbling notes in his coil-top notebook, "I believe the problem that initially brought you to my office was that you were missing something. Let's go on from there. Tell me about missing something."

Silence followed. Heero didn't have a clue what was going on, and it showed on his face when he finally turned his head and glanced at the 'doctor'. "I...don't remember losing anything."

Quatre tapped the end of his pen against his lips thoughtfully. "Why don't we start with a general description of what it is you're missing? Give me some abstract word associations that make you think about it."

Heero scowled again, made an exasperated little noise, and spread his hands out in front of him slightly. "I already _told_ you, I'm not _missing_ anything."

Nodding, Quatre wrote something down, then sat the notebook on his lap and steepled his fingers. "What's your _earliest_ memory of having lost this thing of value? How old were you? What were you feeling at the ti--"

"Are you _thick_ or something!?" Heero snapped, unleashing his ordinarily-repressed temper as he sat up quickly to face him. "I'm _not_ missing anything! You're not listening to me, and you're not making any kind of sense by talking in bloody circles!"

There was another pause while they locked eyes, then Quatre swung one leg over the other and leaned back. "If the thing you lost could be any animal on earth, what animal would it be?" he asked sweetly.

Heero shoved himself up off the chaise with a grunt and began pacing back and forth angrily. "This is nuts," he muttered.

Quatre clucked his tongue with pity. "Tch-tch-tch...denial." Sensing a road block on the path to progress, he then reached behind him and to the right where a small pad of white paper sat on the desk. "I'd like to start you on some pills that have just come out on the market," he said matter-of-factly, scribbling out a prescription. "They're highly potent, somewhat experimental, and may cause you to feel worse than you did before you came in, but they've been given token approval by a figurehead government health agency and for every prescription I write, I get a nice, fat kickback towards my yachting tour of the Caribbean. I want you to take this to the first door on the _right_, and take one tablet three times a day half an hour before you wake up and an hour after you've gone to sleep. If you don't feel an improvement, come back and see me again." He tore off the top sheet and held it out. Heero hesitated, but eventually took the paper and looked at it. It was blank.

Quatre had already gone firmly back to scribbling in his notebook, so there seemed little point in pressing the issue. Heero walked to the door, cautiously opened it, and found a tidy hallway running parallel to the door frame, and quite normal-looking too. The first door on the right was about an inch and a half away from the office door. Reaffirming his grip on the nonexistent prescription, he twisted the knob of the second door and stepped inside.

The atmosphere changed.

It was colder, and the room was a paradox of being very tall with a very low ceiling, a product of delerium-based spatial sense. Against the far wall was a tall judge's bench, and sitting at the top of it, complete with a black gown and a gavel, was Lord Jeffrhyss. Guards were scattered around; two of them stood on either side of His Lordship behind the giant desk. Heero's mind was tossed four years back in time, and suddenly he knew no other existence. He stood straight and proud before his master, anxiously awaiting his orders.

"Your instructors tell me you are ready to begin your first mission," boomed Jeffrhyss from the bench, a tiny, far-off figure in dark spectacles. "You must retrieve the marked package and deliver it to your contact at the checkpoint by the pre-appointed time. Return to me when you have completed this task."

The door behind Heero opened, revealing a dimly-lit gray cement hallway, but he wasn't ready to leave the room yet. He knit his brow in confusion and took a step forward. "Master...may I speak?" he entreated.

Jeffrhyss waved the gavel regally. "You may."

Heero's throat tightened as the embarassment of showing up to work unprepared sank in. "Forgive me, but...from where am I to retrieve the package? And how is the package marked?"

The guards looked at each other, murmuring, and Jeffrhyss looked displeased. "You have already been given all the information necessary to complete your mission," he stated crossly.

As the faceless mob hiding in the dark whispered amongst themselves, Heero squinted, looking down and touching a hand to his head. Nowhere in his cranial memory bank was the pertinent information, and since he didn't just forget things, it must never have been given to him. "With respect, sir," he said, lifting his head with a touch of meekness, "no I haven't."

The ambient buzz grew louder.

"I don't know who my contact is either...or the location of the checkpoint, or my expected time of arrival." He looked up with innocent eyes at his master, expecting a connection.

Jeffrhyss became enraged without warning. "I have given you _everything_ you need, you ungrateful whelp!"

Heero recoiled, then became irate himself. "No you haven't, or I wouldn't be in this position now! I _don't_ have enough information! Why can't you admit your mistake for once!?"

The unseen mob began shouting angrily.

Jeffrhyss banged the gavel a few times and pointed at the accused. "Take him away and discipline him!" came the horrid judgement, and Heero was seized by four faceless guards who slapped, punched, kicked, and otherwise abused him on his way out the door. The treatment was grossly disproportionate to what normally went on in the compound, but it was magnified by the fever, along with everything else. After a thirty-second free-for-all, the four guards picked Heero up by a limb apiece and marched out the door and down the hall with him, and all the while he protested loudly, struggling and hurling epithets in raspy Japanese. He was unconscionably livid, but oddly unharmed.

Out the door they went, clomping towards a door some distance away, then threw the door open and threw Heero in. He yelped and tumbled to a stop, on his back atop several layers of Persian rug.

As he stared up at nothing again, Quatre's cosmetically-altered face popped into view, upside-down. "Oh, there you are! How are the pills working out?"

Disoriented, Heero blinked to the side and placed himself in the round room again, then held the hand in front of his face that still held the clean, uncreased prescription paper. He let it fall back down with a sigh. "I didn't much care for the side-effects."

Smirking, Quatre reached down with his right hand, and almost instantly Heero was seated upright on the red couch, half-facing the doctor in his leather chair, which was now a deep blue. "Well, if that didn't work, perhaps we ought to consider some alternate diagnoses," he suggested, leaning his elbows on the arm rests and steepling his fingers again. "How do _you_ think the missing elements in your life have failed to create the opposite of what didn't occur through omission?"

Quadruple and quintuple negatives were difficult enough to follow when one _wasn't_ delerious and sickly. Heero swallowed, his throat tightening. "I...I don't know."

"Of _course_ you don't know," Quatre chided with an air of superiority and an overly-patient schoolteacher's smile. "That's your whole issue. You don't know who you are or what you want, only that time is slipping rapidly through your fingers, which causes you to flounder around in the murkiness of indecision and eventually make poor choices out of haste and desperation. It's classic." The notebook suddenly appeared in his lap again, and he jotted down some notes, looking down. "How else could you have ended up with Duo?"

Heero's head snapped up to glare viciously at the insinuation. "What?" he growled as the walls of the office began to ripple.

Quatre shrugged innocently and blinked his teal eyes several times in rapid succession. "Considering your past circumstances, it's hardly surprising...I wouldn't even say it's your fault."

Needing clarification on that part, Heero scooted right to the edge of the couch in an angry, jerky motion and wrapped both hands tightly around it. "_What_ isn't my fault?" he hissed.

"That you have a problem with women."

The walls rippled again.

Heero breathed out a stale laugh at the accusation. "I do _not_ have a _problem_ with _women_."

"You do."

"I don't!"

"Do."

"_Don't!!_"

"...do, times infinity, plus one."

It took every drop of Heero's self-control to keep from slamming Quatre's head in one of his desk drawers, whether it fit or not. "You really have gone bonkers."

Quatre smiled sympathetically. "Scoff all you like, but you know it's true. You can't stand women in general. You can barely tolerate the ones you work with."

Heero folded his arms and turned aside in silent protest.

"You think Grace and Elsie are a waste of good oxygen," Quatre prodded.

"I don't work with them anymore, remember?"

"You think Sally takes her professional detachment too far, even though _you're_ the one unfairly transferring your feelings of abandonment onto her."

Heero opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. He had to think about that one.

"You think Kamal is a crackpot spiritualist, and that if Adeela turned sideways, the wind would whistle through her empty head like the Westminster pipe organ."

"Now, _wait_ just a min--"

"You think Lucrezia waffles around with her loyalties, and because you don't see a clear committment to either side, you can't _really_ trust her."

This began to get insulting fairly quickly, causing Heero to actually leap up and point an angry finger squarely at Quatre's nose. "_That_ is a _damn lie!_" he shouted. "Lucy's a fast learner and a hard worker, and if she hadn't risked her own freedom against Jeffrhyss' ego, I'd _still_ be hooked on his home-brewed obedience drugs!"

The outburst had no obvious effect on Quatre. "But do you _trust_ her?"

Eventually, Heero stopped to consider that having respect for someone's abilities and actually trusting them implicitly were not necessarily the same thing, and that perhaps he had been unconsciously confusing them. Perhaps he really didn't trust the female of the species, but why? It really wasn't as if any of his lady acquaintances had ever given him cause to doubt them, he just thought he had a perfectly healthy dislike for the minute ways in which they tended to annoy him occasionally. And since he kept such thoughts to himself and squelched them out of existence within seconds, he also couldn't imagine why they would suddenly be a problem now.

After a short, blinkless pause, Quatre continued unfazed. "In your head, you quietly called Lady Une the 'Bitch Goddess from Hades'." At that point, Heero dropped his hands and wandered away with a sigh. "And Hilde is, in your opinion, a flaky, whiny, unmotivated, indecisive twerp who is _really_ going to have to pull her socks up if she ever hopes to be considered for vital mission components."

Heero paused a few paces away and half-turned around with his hands in his pockets. "Can't really argue with that..."

Quatre shrugged. "Neither can I." He stopped to glance at a nonexistent wristwatch. "And since we're running low on time, I'm not even going to get _started_ on Relena."

"...thank you."

"But that still leaves you with a very serious problem," Quatre continued in a clinical tone that made the walls start bowing in and out again. "You have all these negative feelings about women, but you're _far_ too polite to ever bring them up in conversation, so they get wadded up inside you like crumpled newspaper, unconfronted, unresolved, and fermenting in the pit of your stomach."

A peculiar aura descended upon the office, one that made Heero fidgety and uncomfortable. Something made him look up at the ceiling that wasn't there, at the infinite blackness above.

"What do you suppose Duo will say when he finds out?" the doctor went on, his calm tones turning to vicious taunts as he strolled in a small circle around his patient.

Heero narrowed his eyes at him, his fury slowly building. "Finds out what?"

"That he's your second choice," Quatre spat hurtfully. "That he's a victim of your own deep-seated psychosis.....that the only reason you've handed yourself, body and soul, over to a _boy_ is because you can't stand the alternative!?"

"I don't have to listen to this!" Heero snarled, and he pushed past Quatre and made for the door, but when he reached it, he found the doorknob had disappeared. He slapped the wooden barrier all over with both hands, thinking the knob really _was_ there and that he just couldn't see it, but to no avail.

"Something wrong, Heero?" mocked the phony psychiatrist. "Something _missing_?"

The ceiling of infinity seemed to be closing down on the office, impossibly. Panic shot through Heero's veins. Pressure built up in the room until his ears popped and started ringing unbearably. As a last resort, he hauled back and landed a high kick in the centre of the door. The first one merely jostled it slightly off its hinges, but the second kick broke it. He brought his arms up protectively around his head and burst through the splintered mess as if it was tissue paper, just as the ceiling would have collapsed and crushed him.

On the other side of the door, the dream switched tracks again. The office was forgotten a second time, and Heero suddenly knew himself as a boy of nine, quite a bit shorter and not as muscular as he would someday be. The scene was a bland little room in a brick building with a chair and a small wooden desk with an inkwell. The windows were tightly boarded up, but it mattered little. Heero knew that after his lessons, there would be sparring practice on the roof, in full view of the sun so he could develop a fetching tan. If his instructors were especially lax today, he thought to himself, he might even be able to glance over the side of the building and watch the people milling about in the street. He enjoyed those infrequent treats.

Also in the bland room, with its plank floor, water-stained stucco ceiling, and single shaded lightbulb hanging directly over the desk, was a black-clad instructor. He stood in the shadow, his nondescript features difficult to discern, and clutched a wooden ruler in the crook of his folded arms. Without prompting, Heero took a seat at the desk, under the lightbulb, and awaited his lesson.

"Latin today," the man said in a blah, weary, 'I could have been a university professor instead of this' voice, and he removed the first portion of the day's lesson from a small bureau in the corner. It was a hand-written set of Latin exercises on a sheet of cheaply-made newsprint. He set it on the desk before Heero, next to the sharpened #2 pencil. "Translate the following into English, and provide two Latin synonyms for each verb while maintaining the original context. You have fifteen minutes."

Child's play, it was. Young Heero picked up the pencil in his right hand to complete the assignment, but the instructor stepped swiftly forward and gave the boy's hand a little smack with the ruler. Wordlessly, Heero transferred the pencil to his left hand.

"What do I keep telling you?" the instructor demanded with quiet annoyance. "If you don't use each hand evenly, they won't develop evenly."

Duly chastised, Heero dropped his nose toward the newsprint sheaf and attempted to do his schoolwork, but there was a problem. It was subtle at first, but the more he stared at the paper, the more pronounced the error became. There was supposed to be a series of neatly-written Latin phrases, but here and there, letters were missing. In other places, entire words were missing. The more he stared, the more it all shifted around, misplacing bit after bit of indelible ink. Within seconds, there was insufficient information to complete the assignment.

Young Heero crinkled his brow. He looked up. "Sir?"

The instructor stepped out of the shadows with a puzzled expression, for this student was the quietest he had ever known. Heero could see him more clearly now; he had dark hair and a closely-cropped beard that made him look more like a riverboat captain than a language tutor. Upon seeing that his pupil wasn't working, he frowned. "What is it?"

"...I can't understand this," said the pitiful child in gray slave's rags, holding the paper out with his right hand. The wispy, high-pitched voice bore just the faintest trace of an accent from the far east, yet to be removed by his vocal coach. "There are too many words missing."

Squinting, the gruff American took the paper, shook his head at it, and handed it back. "It's fine, there's nothing wrong with it. Get on with your work."

Heero earnestly studied his assignment, fearfully wondering if it was some sort of test, but it looked worse by the second. In fact, there was hardly any handwriting left. "Forgive me," he said nervously, "but I swear, I _can't_ do it. It's impossible."

"You are _really_ pushing your luck today," the instructor grumped, stepping forward to tower over little Heero while he shook an impatient finger in his face. "Do you want me to call the proctor in here to straighten you out?"

"N-no," the boy whimpered, shrinking in his chair and trembling a little. A call to the proctor at this point would mean a severe beating.

The ogre leaned down and planted both sets of knuckles on the puny desk for maximum intimidation. "Then smarten up and do what I tell you," he growled.

When the instructor walked away, Heero was left to struggle with a lose-lose scenario. He absolutely could not obey his orders, but dreaded the horror and pain that would be visited upon him if he did not. He wished he could just weep from the hopelessness of it all, but he had no tears left to cry, as they had long since been beaten right out of him. Frozen by indecision, Heero wrapped his thin arms around himself, trying to appear as small and insignificant as possible, and hopefully disappear.

It didn't work. The instructor lost his temper, ran shouting out into the cracked plaster hall, and called for backup. In anticipation of what was to come, Heero fell suddenly ill with a panic attack, shakily gasping for air while his fingers and toes went unpleasantly tingly. Guards rushed in, seized the boy and relocated him, but he was barely aware of it, as his conscious mind displaced itself to oblivion for protection from the sting of the lash. Time and space were warped beyond recognition, and large chunks of both flew by until he became aware of his own presence again, and also aware of being forcibly crumpled up and stuffed into a little cage of steel bars with a stout lock on the door.

Inside the cage, which was less of a tangible memory and more of a metaphor, for no actual cages had been used on him in real life, he was all grown up again, and back in his black pinstriped suit. There was just enough room to sit up in the cage with a couple of inches above his head to spare. Blackness was all around him, though he could see his hand in front of his face quite clearly.

"Comfy?"

The sudden interjection of a softer voice startled Heero so badly that he jumped and slammed his head into the bars. A snarl of pain and a clutch of naughty words soon followed.

A light chuckle was heard. Heero twisted around properly and saw Quatre standing a few paces from the cage with his hands in his pockets. Gone was the ridiculous psychiatrist's costume--he was just plain old Quatre now.

"Quick, get me out of here," Heero ordered calmly, gripping the bar right in front of him with one hand.

Quatre shook his head. "Sorry. Only the person who put you in there can truly get you out."

Heero sighed and slumped tiredly. "Well, who put me here, then?"

Rather than answer what seemed to be a perfectly reasonable question, Quatre stepped back and sat down on what must have been a tall box so black that it couldn't be seen. He tucked his legs underneath him and looked like a Maharishi floating serenely. "I was hoping to ask whether you found what it was you were missing earlier," said he.

_Not back to this again..._ "I'm not playing anymore. Either open this box or get the hell out."

The phantom Quatre gasped mockingly. "What a way to behave! Were you born in a barn!?"

That did it. One more absurdity thrown on the pile and the whole stack came tumbling down at once. Heero turned away, leaned back, perched his wrists up on his knees, and started to laugh. It was just a long, rambling, moderate chuckle, but there was something unnatural about it. "I've finally done it," he concluded with eerie cheerfulness. "I've snapped. I _must_ have snapped. Only took about eighteen years, too...funny, I thought insanity would be more colourful than this."

"I'm glad you're so happy about it," barked Quatre all of a sudden, "but we're not done here. I keep going _over_ it and _over_ it, but you will insist on missing the point repeatedly."

From the boy's mechanical and almost mocking tone, it became clear that he had a very prominent hand in Heero's current predicament. Then, it suddenly got worse. From out of the shadows, one by one, came bodiless arms in white coat sleeves and cotton gloves, each one reaching into the cage with a syringe at the ready. Heero's eyes bulged at the familiar but ghostly sight. Jeffrhyss had used him as a pin cushion most of his life, testing new methods of strength enhancement and mind control on him until the crooks of both arms were bruised purple from multiple piercings. The arms were stretching out to him, but couldn't quite reach him. All the same, he pulled his legs in closer and scrunched himself hard against the nearest wall of bars, glaring angrily up at Quatre. "What did you do!?"

Quatre looked quite sympathetic, and slouched forward a big, dropping his head slightly. "Heero...I want you to pay attention. You're not here by accident, and it's time you faced up to that. Someone _put_ you in that cage, and you're not escaping until you come to terms with who it was."

As if it couldn't get any worse, the cage began constricting around Heero, shrinking slowly so that the arms with the needles attached were getting closer and closer to him. The mental barriers that kept counter-productive emotions such as pure fright at bay were cracking. "What are you doing just _sitting_ there!?" he shouted, fearfully watching the unattached apendages become more numerous, and more pushy. "Get them away from me!!"

"I'll give you a hint...it wasn't Jeffrhyss. He just happened to be there at the time." The phantom propped his chin up casually with one hand. "Who did you know _before_ you met Jeffrhyss?"

"Do we have to do this _now_!?" Heero shouted, slapping away the hands in a panic.

"Who did you know before Jeffrhyss?"

Desperate, he pressed a hand flat on the underside of the cage roof and pushed up with all his strength, hoping to rip it off its hinge, but it wouldn't budge, and all the while, the needles were reaching closer. They didn't just mean a brief prickling pain, they meant the momentary death of the self, the crushing of one's will, a kind of non-violent mental rape from which one never fully recovered. "I don't know! I was too young to remember!"

"It's there...in your memory. It hasn't left you." Quatre watched his patient's struggles with quiet pity. The cage was growing ever smaller, and the gloved hands were too much to handle now. "Who brought you to Jeffrhyss?" he prodded, expecting the attacks on Heero's body to leave his mind unguarded. One of the hands dropped its syringe and clamped onto one of the boy's ankles, trying to pull him down flat . "It was a woman, wasn't it? Think hard..."

"Shut up and _help_ me!!" the prisoner bellowed.

Quatre stared, tight-lipped. "Who was she, Heero?"

At that precise moment, Heero was too busy to answer, for the disembodied arms were getting the better of him. The cage was now so small that his head was bent down by the roof, and he was being squashed in at the sides. There wasn't enough room to fight the needles, and the first of many little spikes plunged into the side of his neck just below the ear without resistance. After the stinging pinch came the injection itself, an unwelcome surge of liquid metal, burning and crackling through unprotected flesh. Suddenly swimming in the exaggerated sensation of being electrocuted from the inside out, he gave up the struggle and slumped downward with a pathetic groan, head lolling back tiredly. That gave license to all the other gloved hands to stab him all over with at least a dozen different needles, impaling him right through his suit. He felt defeated in a most powerful way, and instinctively longed that someone would pick him up and carry him away from that awful place. As Quatre's last question squeaked through the haze, he realized there should have been someone there to guard him, to take him away the second it became too dangerous. Perhaps that was the thing he had been missing all along, and from the darkest depths of his memory came a vision of the first person to ever have that job, and the first woman who ever betrayed him.

"...my.....my mother..."

"And how do you feel about that?"

Heero's arms were hanging outside the cage. The gloved hands took full advantage of his surrendering posture, stabbing him in slow motion, and he could do nothing but watch, drained of all strength. It angered him. _How do I feel about it!?_ he screamed silently. _Go on,_ he told himself, watching the needles dart in and out of his limbs, filling him with poison. _Tell him what you really think of the traitor who threw you away. Go ahead...what's the harm? Nobody's around to hear how weak and pathetic you've become, since none of this was ever supposed to matter. You weren't supposed to care. You weren't even supposed to know. But go ahead and whine about it, if it makes you feel better._ His energy renewed slightly by rage, he lifted his head in a wobbly fashion and turned it just enough to send a hate-filled gaze at Quatre. "...mothers are supposed to _protect_ their children, not draft them into a madman's army!"

Finally appearing satisfied, the phantom nodded. "Good..." Silently, the gloved hands withdrew.

As soon as it struck him, what he had said and why, Heero felt sick. Just then he had taken a giant step backward, from being a steadfast warrior who appreciated all the magnificent tools he had been given to rise above ordinary men, to being a pitiful victim, neglected and abused like a spoiled prince's lap dog. He fought to turn over onto his knees, gripping the bars and leaning against them weakly. Sweat poured down his brow as he desperately pled his case. "I didn't have a chance, I--"

"How do you _feel_ about her?" Quatre prodded.

Heero shook his head tiredly. "...I...I don't know...I've never even met her..." The cage was still constricting; it now threatened to crush him completely. "You _have_ to get me out of here, _please_!" he begged. "_Do something_!!"

"She abandoned you...doesn't that make you angry?"

"Of _course_ I'm angry!"

Quatre's tone turned sugary sweet with sarcasm. "But I thought you _liked_ your life the way it was. All that expertise, always knowing what to do, never being afraid of anything..."

"Don't you tell me what I like!!" Heero snarled, shaking a furious finger at his adversary as the roof of the cage pushed him into an even tighter ball. "You don't know a _thing_ about the way I lived! Jeffrhyss might have poured every resource he had into me, but inside I was _empty_!!"

"Don't keep bringing Jeffrhyss into this, he only _made_ the cage," Quatre snapped back. "Your own flesh and blood locked you inside." He hopped down from his perch and knelt next to the cage, which was only about two feet long on each side now. "Don't you see? It's no wonder you have such venom inside you for all of womankind. How could you possibly trust one after what your own mother did to you?"

Struggling to draw breath, Heero shut his eyes, gritted his teeth, and tightened his death grip on the bars. As the cage squashed him farther down, the pressure on his ribcage was so great that he thought his chest would cave in. He began hyperventilating. "Can't breathe!" he gasped in a feather-light tone.

"The first step towards recovery is admitting you have a problem," Quatre cooed gently. "Now tell me...what do you feel right...this...minute?"

Pressure was building up inside Heero, almost as strong as the pressure being exerted on him by the cage. It was the long-suppressed need to scream, to vent frustration, to express dissatisfaction and ingratitude for the life he had been given. To admit that even the tiniest actions could have governed by fierce emotions all his life was the greatest indignity, but it was begging to be done. He fought the force of the shrinking metal trap enough to take one last deep breath, shuddering with pain and clutching the bars tighter and tighter, until fourteen years of pent-up fury exploded from his battered form. "_I HATE HER!!_"

As soon as he let it out, the environment around him imploded. There was a tremendous noise like the shattering of glass, and indeed, broken shards of glass rained down all about the tiny cage, bouncing up and scratching his hands and face. They were fragments of the wall keeping parts of himself hidden from the world; never had he realized how very fragile it was. When the last shard of glass had fallen, with a delicate tinkle that echoed over and over before dying in the darkness, Heero realized he was now lying on his left side on the stones, with one arm pinned underneath him and the other slung out in front, back in his prisoner's rags...but for some reason, he wasn't entirely back in reality yet. Rather, he was in the twilight world between sleep and wakefulness, and there, he had one last vision to experience.

The cell around him was not yet visible, but at least the cage was gone. In its place was a fuzzy picture, like a badly developed photograph. Slowly it came into focus, in shades of black, white, and gray; moments later, natural colour returned to the scene, but it was already quite clear. There was a room, small and stark, with a table in the centre. Two guards stood at the only exit, a closed door that locked from the outside. There were some papers on the table, and a quill pen in a pot of ink. It was already bleak, but the hazy, dreamlike state made it seem even bleaker.

The door opened a bit, and someone outside spoke to one of the guards, who stepped out of the way to let them in. First came a man slightly past middle age, balancing easily on two peg legs without a cane. He looked old beyond his years, grizzled and gray, hiding securely behind dark round spectacles. Behind him came what looked like a young, small family, with a mother, a father, and a toddler. From his vantage point on the floor, made worse by his ever-shifting sense of perspective, the grown-ups all appeared as giants to Heero. Only the toddler seemed of normal size. None of the phantasms seemed to notice the scrawny prisoner lying on the floor.

After the door was closed again, the old man began speaking in a slow, deliberate gibberish, but Heero had no interest in deciphering it. The family of three were far more interesting. They wore colourful garments embroidered along the edges in geometric patterns, and very worn sandals. Their feet were blistered and their faces tired, but it was easy to identify them as strangers from the far east, by their tanned skin, narrow eyes, and straight, dark hair. Even more entrancing was the child with them, a small boy of three or four years, dressed in a tunic of blues and golds, and matching short pants. While the adults had some business to discuss, the child's father opened up his travelling sack, took out a toy, and gave it to him to play with.

The toy was a small stuffed tiger.

_...that's.....me,_ Heero thought obviously. It no longer mattered that he couldn't move or speak. This was something he had to watch quietly, for whatever reason fate had in mind. _I don't remember ever being in this room...but I must have been. Are mite! I can hardly believe I was ever that tiny._ He actually managed a smile.

_Then...those must be my parents._ The smile faded as he focused on his mother first and his father second. He had never really given much thought to his father, as his vaguest memories of childhood only involved his mother. _I'd almost convinced myself that they never existed. But still...he does look a bit like me. They can't have been much older than I am now. If they didn't think they could handle being parents, they should've stayed away from each other. Selfish pair of..._ Determined not to be in any way touched by the traitorous scene, he began to break everything down into measurable chunks to be analyzed clinically. Even his long-surpressed hatred of the mother who abandoned him was locked back behind the fragmented wall, where it belonged.

The old man seemed to be explaining the documents on the table to the young couple, but even though Heero logically knew he was speaking in slow, simple English, he couldn't understand it himself. His parents had slightly less difficulty, but they still squinted a lot and consulted a little book frequently when they heard a word they hadn't learned yet. When he explained as much as he felt necessary, the old man took the quill from the pot, daubed some excess ink off on the rim, and held it out to them. It was just then that the little boy in the azure tunic sat on the floor with his tiger toy and looked expectantly upwards at his mama.

Heero's anger came boiling back to the surface. _Why do I have to watch this!? Wasn't once enough!? Everything was fine the way it was, when I didn't remember any of it! They didn't want me, so they gave me away, end of story! If I could only close my eyes, or turn my head, or something...I don't want to see this! I don't want to know!!_

Forced to watch the replay of his first and most terrible disgrace, Heero witnessed something he hadn't expected at all. His parents, realizing that the hour of action they had anticipated for years had finally come, looked down at their blue-eyed boy with dreadful sadness. The young father finally looked away, putting both hands on his wife's shoulders, to steady her as she began trembling. Her eyes welled up with tears, forcing her to bury her face in her husband's chest and shudder slightly. This was not something they wanted to do, but something, for whatever reason, they _had_ to do. Finally, they both composed themselves enough to make their marks on the dotted line at the bottom of the contract, two tidy sets of ideograms scratched out in unfamiliar pen. Within seconds, the deed was done.

The old man looked quietly pleased with himself as he picked up the papers and folded them up along pre-existing creases. Heero's distraught mother whirled around and crouched before her baby, hastily brushing away tears. Her sad face was pretty, but unremarkably so, and seemed to lack detail at being viewed through such young eyes. She forced a smile, and spoke to him. The grown-up Heero struggled to hear the soft, dove-like whispers, and though he wasn't certain that he caught every word, it sounded something like, "Sensei wa takusan keiko...yoko kio tsukete okiki nasai."

Inside Heero's mind, the garbled words came into focus. His eyes widened slightly. _What is she saying? Something about...paying attention to the lessons? ...'listen well...and mind your teacher'?_

Next, his father, who looked equally unremarkable in his close-cropped hair underneath a plain, cylindrical black cap, reached down with one hand to tousle his first-born son's hair playfully, also holding back tears. "Tokidoki sampo ya undo o suru ho ga ii desu...amari benkyo bakari suru no wa karada ni warui desu."

Still lying mostly paralyzed on the floor, Heero's foot twitched in confusion, and his brow crinkled. _...'get plenty of exercise...too much studying is.....bad for your health?' I...I don't....._

It didn't compute. They sounded like they were sending him to boarding school, not selling him into slavery. Heero looked up at the old man, stroking his beard and clutching his precious papers of ownership while he looked down on the poor peasant family through those tiny black spectacles, and suddenly it all made sense. It was monstrous to think that he had never even considered the possibility before, but now it was perfectly plain to him.

The rage returned once more, but this time it was aimed at the right target. Heero fought the paralysis enough to clench one fist into a white-knuckled ball, digging his fingernails painfully into his palms. _.....you sick bastard, Jeffrhyss!! You lied to them! You stole me from them!!_

Unable to contain herself any longer, the young mother threw her arms around the child and clutched him close. "Kio tsukete! Itte irasshimase!" She didn't want to upset the boy, who didn't seem to understand what was going on, but she couldn't help nuzzling him in the neck and whispering a few more things that grown Heero could barely hear. Then she knew it was time to let go. She stood shakily, and Jeffrhyss showed them quickly out the door, barely allowing them time for one last farewell glance at their son.

And then they were gone.

Heero's eyes grew dim, and the room around him slowly dissolved as his mother's last intelligible words to him echoed gently. _"Please be careful...and hurry home."_ Then it was quiet again. It took a few moments to re-orient himself, but he soon realized he was lying flat on his back on an uncomfortable stone floor. His eyes met nothing but blackness, and the only sound was the slow dripping of water. When he finally had the courage to ask himself if this was reality or the world of nightmares, he tried to move something, anything, and found that he didn't have the strength to lift even a finger. Then he shifted his leg slightly and felt the cold iron shackle around his ankle, and knew he had returned. Slowly, he let out a sigh.

The fever had shown him many things he hadn't ever known about himself, and it was greatly disturbing. _I must have been hallucinating...that means I must be pretty sick._ He inhaled sharply to test something, and as he suspected, the breath caught on something in his throat and made him cough weakly. There was a low, ghastly rattling in his chest, not a good sign. He winced as the coughing fit passed. _If this place doesn't get me, that will,_ he decided. Then the immediacy of death became very real.

_...and now I have to spend my last days on earth worrying about my.....family. Worrying about what lies Jeffrhyss told them.....and whether I really care for Duo or not..._

He shut his eyes tightly, and they stung. The wrenching pain of finding and losing his parents so quickly was just a drop in the ocean. He didn't want to believe that Duo was some kind of unwitting surrogate for his feelings, but the hallucination made a compelling case. For the next several minutes he struggled with it fiercely, desperate to prove the nightmare wrong, but he just didn't have enough to go on, not while the very memory of the outside world was slipping away from his mind.

A revelation struck him.

_I have to get out of here. If what I just saw was true...then I have a real family out there, somewhere...and they're waiting for me. They're expecting me back home. And...and I have to know if it was real with Duo...or if....._

_Get ahold of yourself. You're going to prove that quack inside your head wrong, and you're going to think your way out of this mess, just like you would any other. It's the same as the timed escape drills...don't think about getting all the way to the surface, start with getting out of the cage. Take it one step at a time. Just start with the cage._

Fired up with fresh determination, his mind worked furiously on possible scenarios. As part of his training, he spent hours developing strategies to implement after capture, or during a crisis when quick decisions were needed to avert death or injury. When a scenario got complicated, it was better to break the problem into chunks rather than deal with it as a whole. If you're at the top of a tall building about to burn down and the only way out of the fire is to jump out the window, then jump out the window. You can worry about what to do next on the way down.

There was a low clunk and a squeak far down the hall. Someone was coming. It was probably about time for a pair of dullard guards to come waddling up to the cell to check on Heero's progress in dying. He quickly summed up the predicament in three points: One, he wasn't going to be brought to the surface until he was almost dead; two, the guards would be the primary decision-makers who determined when that would be; and three, they weren't the brightest bulbs in the chandelier. Suddenly, like a brilliant flash of white-hot lightning, an idea came to him, one that would take every ounce of physical and mental stamina he had left, but one that absolutely _had_ to be carried out perfectly if he had any hope of ever being free again. As the footsteps approached, Heero closed his eyes gently and mustered all his agent's powers of precise concentration, and waited.

Down the dusky hall came the two guards, stocky figures in bland, tailored uniforms, one carrying a lantern and the other carrying a heavy baton, which wasn't really necessary for subduing the prisoner at this point, but regulations were regulations. As per usual, they methodically stopped at the cell door, unlocked it, entered one at a time while keeping a close eye on the captive, who was still in the 'deadly damage' category of prisoners and was not to be treated carelessly, and set about their work.

The lantern was set down a safe distance away, close enough to give light but not so close that the prisoner could grab it and use it as a weapon. The larger of the two hatless French guards stood just out of arm's reach, watching Heero intently. He had a firearm in addition to the baton, but the firearm wasn't to be drawn unless it was an emergency; Byron didn't want his plaything expiring ahead of schedule because some hired goon got trigger-happy. The other guard, who had very minor training in the field of first-aid, did the actual examination, gauging how long it would be before the prisoner could be taken to the surface for his final judgement. The timing was critical in order to balance maximum suffering with the jailer's perverse delight in watching the captive's final seconds of life drain away. It didn't take long, however, for the guard to notice that something wasn't quite right when checking Heero's vital signs--the boy didn't appear to be breathing.

The hulking, moustached guard noticed a strange pause below. "Quoi?"

"...j'ne sais pas," said the smaller with a puzzled shake of his head and both hands hovering over the boy's chest fearfully. If anything had happened to him, it would be their fault. "Je pense qu'il ne respire pas." He pulled Heero's head upright and leaned in closer, listening for sounds of life.

Covering his worry with a thin layer of bravado, the larger guard sneered at the prospect. "Il feint!" he scoffed, thinking it a very well-acted farce. He crouched down, grabbed a clump of the boy's hair, and gave his head a tug to one side, shouting in his ear, "Attention! Reveillez-vous, Monsieur Traître! C'est un beau jour au-dehors!"

There was no response from the lad. Beginning to panic, the lesser of the two guards straightened the boy's head up again and put his ear close to his face, and indeed heard a very faint wheezy whistle, ebbing and flowing in a frighteningly slow rhythm. "Merde," he breathed, sitting back on his heels. "Il ne feint pas, Henri! Il est presque de la mort! Nous sommes _finis_!"

"Bah!" The moustached guard set the baton down and got down on his knees behind the boy's head. "Je vous montrai qu'il prétend." It was time to test the prisoner, to see if he was really ailing or just playing dead as part of some ill-conceived escape plan. The guard reached down and clamped both hands over Heero's nose and mouth, sealing off his air supply. If he was faking, they would soon know it.

Heero knew it was coming, and had slowly inhaled in preparation for it. The first thirty seconds without air were easy. Seconds thirty-one through sixty weren't too bad either, but he could already feel his lungs starting to strain. Up above him, the moustached guard still wasn't buying the act, and was actually taking wicked pleasure in inflicting suffocation on his victim. "Dépêche-toi," he said in a sing-song voice, toying with his prey, "ne te moque pas de nous..."

One and a half minutes passed. It was getting very difficult now, but to be totally convincing, Heero couldn't wince, squint, moan, struggle, or give any indication that he was even awake, or the effort would be for nothing. Inside the shell of his body, adrenalin-fueled panic set in. There was choking pain, instinctual fear, and a level of intense physical stress beyond anything he had ever felt before, even while learning how to hold his breath under water. He suddenly was afraid that this wasn't such a good idea after all, that the guard wouldn't stop in time, and he would truly die of asphyxiation before having his 'day in court', yet even with so much pressure exerted from within to fight back, he amassed all his training and every last ounce of strength to remain perfectly still.

After two minutes, the lesser guard feared just as much for his own life. "Ça suffit!" he gasped nervously, prodding the other guard in the arm. Then his lower lip started to tremble, and he shoved harder. "Henri, ça _suffit_!"

Henri pulled his hands off Heero's face, and they were shaking slightly. Then he bent down quickly to listen for either gasps and coughs, or the silence of death. He could hear the air slowly leaking out of the boy's lungs, unassisted, followed by a slow, ponderous inhalation. Hardly the sounds of someone aware of being on the brink of suffocating. For Heero, in spite of his inner relief that he wasn't necessarily about to expire, this was the most difficult and crucial part of the plan, _not_ taking the oxygen offered to him as quickly as he would have liked. Beads of sweat clung to his brow, and came off on the tormenter's hands, but the shocked guard still didn't realize what was going on. He was suddenly thinking about what Byron would do to him if Heero wound up dead.

The guards were in a terrible dither. At first they began blaming each other for nearly killing the boy, then decided they would have to get their story straight before telling Byron. Everything was moving faster than expected, and it left the two men in a very definite panic as they all but ran with their gear out of the cell and down the hall, barely remembering to lock the cell door behind them.

When they were safely gone, Heero indulged in several loud, sharp gasps, followed quickly by a coughing fit that left him in excruciating pain from the throat down. He had just accomplished the hardest thing he had ever needed to do, and brilliantly so. Whatever happened next was out of his hands, but at least he had cracked the door open an inch to let fate in. The guards would be running for the surface to confer with their superiors. Their superiors would deem it more than all their jobs were worth not to notify Byron of the change in Heero's condition. Byron would have to cut his time in England short and race back now that his plaything was at death's door, and Heero would be brought to the surface for judgement. If anything or anyone was to intervene on his behalf, that would be the time.

_...Duo...that was the best I could do. I hope it was enough._

His work completed, he slipped into a deep and well-deserved sleep, free from hallucinations and regurgitated traumas, where he was back at Bridlewood, polishing silverware and listening to Duo banging pots and pans around in the kitchen.

----------

Late that night, Trowa unpacked the big wooden crate he had been guarding so carefully on the ferry. Inside was the peculiar black market contraption purported to steal telegraph signals during their transmission. The entire group left the boarding house in Versailles and transferred everything to another hostel outside Grenoble, which according to Wufei, was one of the closest towns to Jeffrhyss' mountain fortress. Their funds were running dangerously low, even with the costs split seven ways, but poverty had never stopped them before.

Trowa and Hilde were paired together for reconnaissance purposes, Trowa being the only one who knew how to run the telegraph machine, and Hilde being the clerical gem who had memorized Morse Code. Following Wufei's maps, they located the telegraph office which the group had generally decided was most likely to conduct business with Jeffrhyss' organization, based on its location. It was a moderate bicycle ride from there to the foothills leading up to the mountains, so it was there that the two youngsters set up their workstation.

Being something of a stealthy acrobat, Trowa used the cover of darkness on the cloudy night to take the long wire coming out of the telegraph decive and attach it to a metal eyelet touching the wire that stretched from the side exterior brick wall of the office to a series of poles that vanished into the dimly-lit town. Hilde hid in the bushes with the device itself, a good fifty feet or so from the unimposing building, well out of sight.

"Try it now," Trowa whispered to her upon his return. He sat down on the rough gray blanket spread on the grass, in his black turtleneck and slacks. Hilde's dress was darkest blue with all white trimmings removed, and she shifted her skirts around comfortably before giving the small hand crank poking out of the wooden box several sharp turns, like winding up a jack-in-the-box. They stared at it for a moment as the glass vacuum bulbs hummed to life, and a small lamp on top glowed with just enough light to read and write by, at least until the machine needed to be cranked up again. Amidst the switches, dials and knobs was an ordinary telegraph key, its hammer hovering at the ready, prepared to accept input from the wiretap or a human operator. The recon operation could begin at any time.

"...what happens now?" whispered Hilde.

They had already gone over the procedure several times, but Trowa humoured her and repeated it all from the beginning, sensing her nervousness. "As soon as a message comes through, you decode it, I read it, and if it looks suspicious, I'll follow whoever sent it as they're leaving the office. With any luck, they'll head for the mountains, and I'll trail them as long as I can."

Hilde drew her knees up to her chest and stared at the unmoving machine. "So what you're _really_ saying is that I could be stuck in these bushes for _weeks_ waiting for something suspicious to come along. I'm going to _have_ to powder my nose a _few_ times until then..."

Trowa sighed. "You won't be here _all_ the time...sixteen hour shifts, at the most, then someone will take over so you can get some sleep, but you've got to be here most of the time because you're the best decoder we've got. Tonight is just for practice so you can get used to the long hours, but Wufei says they're sending and receiving messages all the time, so it shouldn't take more than a few days for something juicy to come along. I'm in the same boat, don't forget."

Somewhat deflated, Hilde turned her head away and pressed her ear to one knee, feeling very put-upon. It was all very well for the rest of them to carry out these long, complicated mission segments--they were all so much stronger and more grown-up than she was--but the housemaid was beginning to feel that the rest of the team was expecting an awful lot of her. Granted, she volunteered, but because she was the youngest, and a girl to boot, she had secretly hoped they would giver her all the easy jobs, like 'lookout' or 'equipment manager'. It wasn't that she didn't think their cause was just, far from it; she simply felt helplessly over-relied-upon, and the strain of it was terribly unpleasant.

"You know..." Trowa began after watching her sulk for a few minutes, "it's alright if you want to quit."

Hilde straightened up slowly and gave him a wide-eyed glare of bewilderment. "What?"

Trowa shrugged innocently. "I know you've got a lot more responsibility on your shoulders now, and if you feel it's too much for you, I'm sure Duo would buy you a ticket back home."

Something was quite surreal about this whole line of conversation. He sounded so serious that she couldn't tell whether he was being sarcastic or not. Suddenly she felt awfully guilty, the way she always did when she fanatasized about quitting the team and running away, which was often. "I can't do that! I'd be letting everyone down!"

"How badly would you be letting them down if you were only half here?"

Hilde didn't understand. She squinted and shook her head faintly.

"Now, I _know_ you're not afraid of hard work, after watching you go over eight hundred feet if wooden baseboard with furniture polish on your hands and knees," he continued. "So...must be something else bothering you."

The housemaid pulled her hands up to her waist and wrung them frantically. It was time to acknowledge those nagging doubts that had never been given a voice. "...it's just.....nobody really _cares_ if the baseboards are shiny and lint-free. There's no government inspector checking to see if I really darned a hole in a bedsheet or just slapped a patch over it. No one's going to start a war over the quality of my tile floor scrubbing, and the whole world isn't going to fall apart if I don't put the feather duster back on the exact same peg in the cupboard every time I use it! None of it matters!"

Trowa put a finger to his lips to remind her that they were trying to stay quiet, but didn't interrupt.

Hilde dropped her hands to her sides and fought the tiny whimpers trying to crawl up her throat. "If I make a mistake at work, there aren't any _real_ consequences...but if I make a mistake _here_.....somebody could get killed..."

Nodding at the perfectly reasonable and rational anxiety, Trowa scooted closer and put her hand on his arm, squeezing it. "We've _all_ thought about that...even Duo."

She looked up and sniffled. "Really?"

Again the boy nodded. "...the only difference is, the rest of us made a conscious decision to suck it up and get on with it. If mistakes are gonna happen, they're gonna happen. Whatever comes about from what we do, boo-boos included, it's gotta be better than doing nothing." He saw that he was getting through to her when she began gazing hypnotically at the telegraph device. "I can't tell you what to do, obviously...but the way I see it, you can toddle off back to England and be a housemaid all your life, or you can suck it up, stick with the team, and find out how much more you're really capable of."

In the back of her mind, Hilde had always known this day was on the horizon, when she would have to grow up or be left in the world's dust. She knew in her heart that she could do better in life than being a hired hand, just like she knew she could do better than being a street urchin before Relena gave her 'her big break', but pushing herself beyond the Hilde she was used to was a scary prospect. _I don't have very much to pick from...stay and possibly fail big, or go home and fail forever by default. Can it really be as hard as I think it is? The others have all changed, and they're alright...but they're used to taking risks, and I'm not! Ew...just look at yourself, all jelly-kneed like a little girl. What would Heero say?_

Out of nowhere, the telegraph key sprang to life, tapping out a message that was either being transmitted or received by the telegraph office. They both looked at the machine, whereupon Trowa elbowed the girl gently. "You gonna get that?"

Her decision-making time cut short, Hilde stared sharply at the device and thought quickly. _What would Heero say if I gave up on him because I was terrified of failing?_ No matter what the answer was, she concluded that she wouldn't like it one bit. She rose up on her knees and crawled over to her workstation, picked up the pencil and the clipboard with a few sheets of plain paper attached, and scribbled out letters and numbers corresponding to the dots and dashes coming through in rapid clicks of the telegraph key. Because she couldn't read French any better than she could read English, the letters all butted up against each other without any spaces or punctuation. Several seconds after the clicking stopped, she handed the clipboard over to Trowa, who did his level best to figure out where each word began and ended.

The first telegram was a dud, a birth announcement sent to the baby's new relatives. A boy, nine pounds, three ounces, named Louis-Antoine. About half an hour passed before another message was received, which boiled down to 'Hi Mom, miss you, love you, please send money'. After that, there was nothing.

It was getting to be midnight when the pair started to wonder. Arbitrarily, Trowa stood up, crept carefully out of the bushes, and tiptoed around to the front of the building. He was back in less than a minute. "The operator must've locked up and gone home! It's empty."

"What? I thought these places were supposed to stay open all the time! What happens if there's an emergency in the middle of the night?"

"I thought the same thing..." He shrugged. "Maybe they're a little more laid-back out here in the boonies."

Hilde looked relieved. "Maybe I won't have to sit here till dawn after all."

Just when it appeared as though their efforts had stalled out badly, but before they could pack up and leave, Trowa heard something. He silenced his partner with a shake of one hand, while angling his ears toward the approaching sound. It was rather like wheels crinkling along a dirt road, light and fast. The pair ducked below the cover of the bushes just in time before a young man in dark gray casual clothes rode past on a bicycle, coming from the direction of the mountains. Quietly pushing aside branches, they watched a peculiar scene unfold, with the rider as the star player.

The plain-faced gentleman, who looked barely older than the hidden observers, pulled his vehicle up to the _back_ of the telegraph office and leaned it against the brick wall, well out of sight in case anyone passed by. Then, from his bkack leather belt he took a large metal ring full of keys, at least two dozen of them. When he looked down at the keys and squinted in the low light, Hilde panicked momentarily and threw her skirt over the glass lamp on the telegraph machine, but thankfully the young man didn't seem to notice the sound, or the eerie glowing greenery. He felt his way around the ring until he found the correct key, unlocked the back door to the office, and slipped stealthily inside.

The youngsters held their breath. Without warning, the telegraph device started clicking away madly, and it startled them. Hilde collected her wits quickly and started jotting, and Trowa hurried to her side, looking over her shoulder at the badly-formed characters, already supposing that the stranger was sent by Jeffrhyss. The break-and-enter was so easy, so flawless, that it must have been happening every night for several years.

"It's in English! ...'storeroom...overstocked'," he read slowly at just above a whisper. "...'offload excess...to...'" He shook his head. "Can't make out the sender's name...but he's got to be one of them, he's just got to be."

"Shhh!" Hilde admonished as she wrote furiously. There were several different messages being sent, one after another, a whole day's worth of communication saved up until it was safe to transmit without discovery. They spoke of matters such as employee transfers, injury reports, eyewitness accounts of target movements from scouting agents in the field...all of which had to be relayed to someone, somewhere, but since several clicks went by before Hilde began copying the letters out, they missed the critical information about where the messages were bound, and for whom.

There was a pause in the clicking, possibly while the intruder shuffled his papers around to separate sent memos from pending memos, and then started transmitting again, having to repeat the name and location of the recipient, a brilliant stroke of luck for the eavesdroppers. Trowa leaned even harder into Hilde's left shoulder, and the shared nervous tension made them both shake slightly. After only a short time on surveilance duty, they cracked the case. "...Byron!" Trowa breathed hastily as soon as the letters fell into place. "...'Schaeffer.....Eton College'..." Jeffrhyss' messenger was quite a bit faster with the telegraph key than the daytime operator, and Hilde had a job keeping up, causing her to write badly. Trowa quickly became frustrated. "You're scribbling! I can't rea--"

"Alright! Alright! Shhh!" she snapped, swallowing with a small gasp as her hand started to cramp up painfully.

He leaned in closer, squinting at the rapidly filling page. "...'prisoner....._dying_...stop. Request...your immediate...return...stop. Execution...plans.....underway'..." Drawing a slow, deep breath, he sat back and gnawed on his lower lip, worrying and shaking his head. "It must be Heero...why else would Jeffrhyss call Byron all the way back from England?"

At the sound of the word 'dying', Hilde felt as though someone had punched her hard in the stomach, but she dutifully kept writing even though she wanted to cry. _You're a big girl now,_ she told herself. _Suck it up._ Then the stream of dots and dashes came to an end. "That's all there is." With that brief comment, she handed over the page for examination and rubbed her sore hand. "What does it mean?" she asked needlessly, with pain in her voice.

Trowa took the page with the sloppy lines of text and seemed to look straight through it to the dry ground underneath. "It means they're ahead of schedule, and we're nowhere near ready." _...we're going to have to be ready, or he's a goner._

It should have been obvious from the sudden stoppage of transmission, but they both jumped a bit when the light inside the office went out. Hilde fumbled for the machine's off switch, dousing the electric lamp and the noise of the gears for good, and they both huddled low behind the hedge, clutching papers and pencils that threatened to fly away on an unexpected breeze.The back door to the building opened, and out came the messenger, drawing his bicycle away from the wall and trotting it over to the road before mounting it and pedalling back the way he came. Without a word, Trowa took off like a shot, running after him at a distance that was precariously balanced between discreetness and failure to keep up. Back in the bushes, Hilde was left to assume that she was to pack up the equipment and await his return, so that was precisely what she did. Soon the pair of lads disappeared completely into the countryside, on a winding course toward the mountains.

A bicycle being driven by a sleep-deprived soldier, slightly uphill, was little match for Trowa's natural sprinting pace, once he got up to speed. The team suddenly had far less time than they thought to discover the hidden route to Jeffrhyss' lair, and for this reason, he was determined to follow the messenger as far as he could. Once outside the town, they took a sharp turn into the woods and followed a snakelike trail specifically designed to throw off the innocently curious, as well as the deliberate infiltrators. Every hundred feet or so, another trail split off, appearing to lead in enticing new directions, but Trowa stayed on target, marking each red herring as he passed, huffing and puffing.

Suddenly, the messenger looked back. Trowa was startled, but kept running. Finally sensing that he was being followed, the boy on the bicycle stood on the pedals and leaned heavily against them, dragging his machine up the ever-increasing slope at a rate that was too quick to catch. Once he was beaten, Trowa felt the full extent of his exhaustion, which he had been heartily ignoring for the last hundred yards, and ground to a halt, leaning forward with his hands on his knees and taking great gulps of air. The bicycle vanished into the dark woods, and since there had been no rain in the area lately, it left no trail to follow. Trowa straightened up a little, leaned against a tree, and cursed his big, clomping feet and the unwanted noise they made, even at a distance.

_...now, where the hell am I?_

He turned around, stared at the trail for awhile, and began slowly picking his way back down the hill, trying to remember the correct path. _Not so bad on the way back, all roads lead down...but I'd better get this right the first time._

The night ended uneventfully, but the next day started early with a grim-faced Duo receiving the intercepted message with less than full-on enthusiasm. Sally couldn't seem to do anything but bite one particular hangnail and repeat over and over that Heero shouldn't have been hanging by a proverbial thread yet, according to everything she knew about human physiology. It didn't add up, no matter how many times she went over it, but Duo was quick to remind her that it didn't matter. Heero's time was running out; that was the bottom line.

As soon as Byron stepped off the boat from England, they would tip over the hourglass for perhaps the last time.

----------  
  
_Next, in Episode Ninety-Five: As Duo leads his team to the Mountain Fortress, about to attempt a gutsy rescue effort, they all begin to feel that they may have bitten off more than they can chew. The first cracks appear in Byron's hold over his own troops, as doubt spreads amongst the higher echelons of power._

I have some advice for anyone in their mid-twenties struggling with family and career (and by family, I mean parents and grandparents) without losing their mind: Do NOT allow yourself to be ruled by guilt. It will only erode your sense of self until you're an empty shell carrying around a cold, unfeeling brain. Bad mojo. So anyway! I'm back! I'm in business! And I'm ready to atone for the terrible sin of leaving you all hanging for, oh...four months. xX I sent a letter last month at about this time to as many email addresses as I had on file (some were dead inboxes, but oh well...), but I couldn't possibly have emailed everybody, I'm sure, so if you didn't hear from me in May, this is what I had to say to you all:

An apologetic yet hope-filled note from Mitsugi about Bridlewood and stuffies.

-sheepishly steps up to microphone with hands behind back-

Hi there.....remember me? oo If you don't, well...just delete this, maybe I got your email by accident. P

This is sorta gonna be a "email-everybody-at-once-through-the-magic-of-blind-carbon-copy" sort of thing, and I scraped together as many email addys as I could find from people who had contacted me over the last, what...three years? Holy crap, has it been three years already? Well...anywho, if I goofed on the BCC-ing, you might get more than one copy of this. If I REALLY f-cked up, you'll get two or three. I don't want to speculate past that, I'm just gonna address this to everybody and get on with it.

To everybody:

First, I wanna offer my humblest apologies for letting Bridlewood Manor languish in unfinished fic land for the last 12 weeks...believe me, it wasn't my first choice, but 2004 has turned out to be a really shitty year. -leans away from microphone to talk to Rachel- Can I say shitty on the air? ...I can? Oh, good. -leans back in- It's been four months of utter hell...screaming fights with my Mom, screaming fights between Mom and Dad, Grandpa dying, screaming fights between me and my bro, screaming fights between bro and Dad, moving out and getting an apartment, and looking after Grandma who's really sweet but a little deranged, so it's really hard to spend more than an afternoon with her. But enough of my excuses.

Bridlewood lives! Rachel and I are sorting out details for the new website (which has been coming since before Christmas), and you can see it starting to take shape at our current address (which will change but not without due notice) and if you can't remember it because it's been so long since there was anything new there to look at, it's (Now watch, I'll have typed that wrong and it won't work. Bleh.) We shall have a domain name! We shall finish Chibiland! (Yes, Virginia, there IS a Chibiland.) And we shall check in on Heero who has, at last reckoning, been locked away in a cold, dank dungeon by his arch nemesis Byron since, erm...probably also before Christmas. Honestly, I'd hoped to be starting a totally new portion of Bridlewood by now, but what with all the delays...well, there you are.

Umm, lemmie see, have I forgotten anything? 99 Well, maybe just to say that...you guys...you awesome readers out there.....you are my oxygen. When everything else in my life has been falling apart, I've never been short of a friend, even though I've never met any of you face-to-face. -passes out hugs to all who will accept them- I hope you can forgive me for being so...so Mitsugi.

So! To recap:

1. Sorry.  
2. Episode 94 soon!  
3. Sorry.  
4. New website!  
5. Chibiland!  
6. Sorry, sorry, sorry.  
7. Acknowledgement of fanart that's been sitting on a zip disk for far too long!  
8. Sorreeeeeeeee! -throws self at your collective feet-  
9. And golf, Leafs, golf. Thank you.

Ever yours,  
Mitsugi  
->->-


End file.
